Theresa stopped rushing around the band room, placing her mallets on the drum in front of her. Her ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail in preparation for playing.
She, unlike the current drum major, always wanted to be very prepared. She arrived as early as she could, made sure the rest of the section showed up, and kept track of all the little details so if a stick broke or a drum went out of tune, she was always the girl to find.
Sal on the other hand, had found his way back into the chair in the ensemble room. He kept an eye on the door, waiting for their conductor. In the meantime, he had one earbud in and was slowly scrolling through his phone. Every once in a while it would buzz with a message from someone, but he didn't move much from his spot.
When the conductor got there, she would poke her head into the room to tell him that it was time. She moved to her podium and started the instrumental warm-ups while Sal slowly made his way to the back of the room and pulled on his snare. By the time he got there, he could call off the first song and seem just as prepared.
The conductor was a small old lady. She seemed frail, but as soon as she got onto the podium, she was filled with an unknown energy and conducted with a fierce determination. As long as you were on her good side, things would go well. If you forgot your music binder in the band room, she would hide it, some with forgotten sticks. She could be harsh, but she did it for a reason.
Until then, he stayed in his place.
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