"Goddamn, am I glad
over..." Neal muttered, tugging sharply at the collar of the band uniform to loosen it. The shit he put up with, just to play music...
"Hey, dude -- go relax, eh?" Chavez clapped Neal lightly on the back, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "Mr. Franklin's orders, Upperclassman.
" He flashed Neal a bright grin, and Neal smiled slowly back.
The band director wasn't a fool -- it was difficult enough to get Neal out marching on the football field without a fight, and he knew how much Neal loathed pep band duty.
"Cool, man," Neal replied, shifting his trombone case to his other hand as he scanned the home bleachers for any sign of Andy. "I'm gonna go get somethin' t'drink, all right? Later..."
Chavez grabbed Neal's trombone case from his hand.
"I got this for you, man," he said, wearing the typical ingratiating smile he always seemed to have around his First Chair counterpart these days. "Bring me a Coke?"
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