"We"re watching recordings of yesterday"s performance." Ms. Cortez turns on the TVs, and the drum major dims the lights.
She’s starting Tuesday morning with a downer. My chest tightens as my foot bounces on the ground.
The seniors marched so well that I can see the outlines of the formations on the screen, even with the reduced numbers. The sound isn’t as loud as when everyone plays together, but they’re definitely a tight-knit musical group.
The sophomores — not so much.
We look and sound like a herd of cattle wandering on the field. It’s only half the song but still painful.
The recording goes off, and the lights come back on. There’s silence, except my heart thudding in my ears.
Ms. Cortez scans the room, her face pinched. "We found the weak link."
Ouch.
"We want everyone t
