Chapter Text
Robin Buckley was royally screwed.
It was her own fault, honestly. She had done the same thing she always did— put off extremely important tasks until the very last second.
This task was a doozy. Memorizing music. It should have been easy for her; she'd marched in her school's marching band since eighth grade. This would be her fourth year.
The problem lied in the fact that she had three days until band camp.
And she just so happened to be the brass section captain.
Robin was a procrastinator. She would put things off until the very last second and then magically pull them off. Combined with her busy summer schedule, she spent her downtime relaxing or hanging out with her friends rather than practicing her music. God, Robin! You always do this! Her mind screamed at her.
“No, Steve, you don't understand! I'm so fucked,” Robin groaned into the phone, staring down at her untouched music folder with a grimace.
“Robin, calm down. You don't have to know it perfectly, you just have to know it. It's going to be fine,” he assured her. His words did nothing to slow Robin's racing thoughts.
A section captain not knowing her music on the first day of band camp when she had all summer to learn it. God, I'm going to get destroyed. Hey, who knows, maybe there's still time. Maybe I can save this.
“I'm going to have to learn it. Until I get it. I'll do the first two movements today, the third tomorrow, and drill them nonstop the day before camp. I'm going to get jumped by Mr. Hopper if Lucas knows his music better than me!” She wailed, collapsing onto her pillow with a resounding thump.
Steve just sighed. She could practically hear him shaking his head.
“Do you know yours?” Robin questioned. “Your music, I mean. I'm not alone, am I?” She could feel tears brimming in her eyes. Why didn't I just practice that week I had off from camp counselor-ing?
There was a beat of silence. Robin let out a cry of despair.
“No, no, Robin! Jeez, man, calm down. I have my shit done, sure, but it's not clean. If it makes you feel better, I don't have the weird tuba runs in the ballad memorized…”
Robin's heart was sinking further and further with every word. She had responsibilities, and she'd blown it. She knew one thing was for sure, though— she needed to get to work.
—————
Just throw it higher, Nancy. Captains don't drop.
Nancy was losing her mind in her front yard, staring down at the colorguard rifle in her hands with disdain and anger. She continually dropped it, seemingly over and over again. She reverted back to basic warm ups every time she did to calm herself down.
“That was a triple. A triple!” Nancy shrieked as the rifle clattered to the ground once more. Mike's insistent drumming bleeding out from the basement wasn't helping with her mental state, either. Sometimes I wish this rifle was a real rifle. Then I could just shoot myself in the arm to have an excuse for dropping.
Nancy Wheeler was a perfectionist. Perfect grades, perfect tosses, perfect life. If anything was out of place, it had to be fixed or eradicated immediately.
I'm dropping easy tosses. Band camp starts in three days and I'm dropping triples! As guard captain! I can toss so much higher than that. So much higher. My fourth year. Fourth! I'm so cut.
Nancy's eye twitched. She took exactly four deep breaths and picked her rifle back up. She clenched her jaw and began to count.
Five, six, five, six, seven, push, and out, out… catch!
The rifle came down into her hands with a satisfying hit, causing Nancy to release the breath she didn't know she was holding. Great. I caught a triple. God, I'm so thirsty.
She cast a look at her door, deciding that once she successfully caught a five then she could retire inside for a quick break. No pain, no gain. Do it for Holly.
It would be her younger sister's first year in colorguard, and needless to say, Nancy was extremely excited. She wanted Holly to have someone to look up to, someone Holly would want to impress. She was so young, only going into the sixth grade, but she wanted to give it a try. Once Holly got a taste at their starter camp back in June, she was absolutely ecstatic. Nancy tried to picture her face when she caught her very first toss.
Keep pushing.
So she did. After a few more deep breaths, she tossed a quad. Successfully. It wasn't the cleanest, but she caught it. Okay, now a five. I can do this.
She didn't fully believe herself until she let go.
As the rifle went in the air, Nancy held her breath, but it returned to her hands perfectly, just as she had planned.
“Good,” she muttered, “good.”
When she turned around to make her way inside for a much-needed break, she made eye contact with Holly standing in the doorway.
“That was so cool,” Holly squealed, grinning from ear to ear. Nancy's heart melted at that moment.
“Thanks, Holly. Have you been practicing?” Nancy asked. Holly nodded, turning around and reaching for something. A moment later, she revealed that her flag bag was right next to her.
“I was going to now, but you were in the yard so I was just watching you for a minute.” Holly skipped out of the doorframe, setting her bag down on the grass in front of the house. She smiled at Nancy expectantly, a curious look in her eyes that Nancy recognized from her own first year.
Maybe a break can wait.
—————
Classical music droned in the background of a musician's kitchen as she baked. Brownies. Everyone had to like brownies.
Vickie mixed the batter, humming along to the tune engulfing her. She adored all types of music, how it could suck someone in and keep them there for as long as the song went on. At least, that's how it went for her.
Ever since she became captain, Vickie Dunne had turned into a kind of older sister— no, a mother— to the woodwind section. She looked forward to seeing her younger friends again, and she looked forward to meeting that year's rookies even more.
She was sure her section was well-prepared for camp. The majority of them usually were, besides a few stray cats along the way that needed an extra push to finish memorizing their music.
“Cats,” Vickie remarked to herself, “yep, they're a lot like cats. Especially Will.”
As she put the brownie pan into the oven, she giggled at the thought. Will Byers did remind her of a cat. Silly, fairly quiet, and precise. She was glad to have him in the section. He was a nice flute player, too.
She reckoned Dustin was a cat as well, just a completely different kind. He was more like a ginger cat who would get himself into trouble often, but would pull through his mistakes with his quick thinking. The saxophone player had an attitude, but he sure could play.
He sure isn't the only one with an attitude. Jesus, I need to prepare myself to get absolutely demolished by Erica. And every word she says will be 100% correct.
Erica was possibly the funniest person in the band, at least to Vickie. She suspected her sass and witty remarks were a result of her audience being mostly teenage boys or authority figures she despised listening to. She could be a real sweetheart when she wanted to, Vickie knew it.
Before she could reflect on more members of her section, she realized the brownies had probably burned in the oven. “Crap,” she squeaked, grabbing her oven mitts and taking the brownies out at once.
They look somewhat salvagable… oh, please, who am I kidding? These kids will eat them in two minutes. I'll give it to them after practice so that they don't vomit on the field.
Vickie cringed at the thought. She remembered her first season.
She'd been marching in the hot summer sun for hours, a relentless day of band camp nearing the end. She could distinctly remember her chapped lips, her dry throat, and her will to live slowly draining out of her. On her water break, she ran to the bathroom and vomited immediately.
Gross. Gross. Gross. That will not happen to my kids this year.
She remembered who had been there for her when that happened. The same someone she'd been looking forward to seeing all summer.
I'm getting ahead of myself. Focus on the brownies.
Carefully wrapping up the sweet treats, she wrote a quick note on top of the foil.
For the woodwinds. Percussion, do not eat these or I will find you all.
– Vickie
She could already tell that this was going to be a great season.