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It was Friday. Most seniors at Carroll High School were excited for the weekend. Most seniors were pumped up for the upcoming football game tonight. Most seniors were glad that they got to skip first period for this pep rally.

Bob Bryar was miserable. There were many reasons for this.

First and foremost, he was injured. A tendon in his leg had snapped, ever since some fucker thought it was a good idea to tackle Bob from behind. So for at least two more months, Bob was on crutches and had this itchy cast on his ankle.

Second, the disability that came with his injury caused him even more grief when he couldn't perform at the pep rally today.

Bob was the best drummer at Carroll High. He was in varsity marching band, Jazz band, and was even in this half-assed garage band that his brother started. So when his band buddy Chase proposed a pep squad for percussionists, he made Bob join because he wanted the best on his group.

Of course, Bob put up quite a fight (think heated argument, flying drumsticks, and eyes that barely escape being poked out). But it turned out that Chase's brainchild was brilliant. Because the school colors were green and black, they were called the Green Men. They painted their faces all green and wore black janitor suits and did Blue Man Group-esque drum performances. It was rad.

Bob had put a lot of time into practicing for his performance today. But because of the physical stunts it required and Bob's obvious injury, he was sitting on the bleachers, right in front of the band, and watching the Green Men get ready to get on the court.

He was bitter. But anyone would feel the same.

/That should be me/, Bob thought as he looked at the four green-faced guys prepping their instruments. Specifically, his replacement for today, his friend Marcus. Marcus was good, but not like Bob was.

But there was also another reason. It didn't make Bob feel miserable and unhappy, but it ticked him off a little. He knew it was unreasonable to feel that way, but he did.

It was the Masked Men. Or specifically, who was in the Masked Men.

Two weeks before the pep rally (and one week before the injury), Bob's girlfriend had given him exciting news.

"I'm starting a new percussion squad," Jennifer had told him excitedly.

"What?"

Jennifer was Bob's girlfriend. She had moved to Chicago from New York the year before. They had become friends immediately, both being percussionists in Jazz band, and of course they had mutual crushes on each other. They were both too shy to do anything about it, though, until a month ago, after about a year of all of their friends telling them /YOU GUYS LIKE EACH OTHER, DAMMIT, JUST MAKE BABIES ALREADY/.

"Yeah, it'll be like yours, but with all girls. And we'll wear masks and black sweats with hoods and cool basketball shoes and we can play with the Green Men!"

"But... that was my thing..." Bob muttered. This was kind of a psychological thing for him.

Jennifer was tough. She was beautiful and sweet and smart and definitely a girl (wink wink) but she was also the most badass motherfucker that Bob had ever met. She could beat him at arm wrestling, and if anyone gave her shit, she mauled them. Among other factors.

Sometimes he wondered who was really the man in the relationship.

So Bob's ego shrank a little bit after Jennifer mentioned her new project. She was probably going to make it better, and cooler, and do more awesome stunts!

"It's kinda just a thing for me and the guys," Bob restated. Wrong move.

Jennifer had just looked at him blankly. Then her eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and her face turned a little red.

"Did you just say that? Is this YOUR thing now? Because from what I remember, drumming isn't just for boys! And, oh yeah, THIS ISN'T THE FUCKING 1920s!" Jennifer was a very spicy Mexican girl, so temper was kind of on the down low.

"And if you need more reassurance for your goddamn MAN'S SPORT, then I'll have you know that no one will even know we're girls! We're called the Masked Men! I'm going ahead with this Bob, and I'll see you later." Jennifer stormed off, got into her car, and drove angrily away. Bob could tell because she kept swerving and was definitely pushing the speed limit.

That was their first official fight.

So all in all, Bob felt truly crappy this glorious Friday. He was huddled near the bottom of the bleachers in front of the band, wearing a hoodie and old jeans covering his cast, hood up and glaring at everyone who was smiling.

The student council president, (peppy preppy) Paige walked out onto the basketball court, holding a microphone and looking at a schedule. The comedy crew was running around obnoxiously, throwing candy at students.

"Now," Paige said into the mic, "Please welcome, the Green Men!"

People clapped. Bob smirked. The Green Men were pretty popular.

They shuffled out onto center court, holding all their equipment. Mostly large drums, but also this cool tone-shifting one that Parker had built, a few snare drums, a chair, and a hat with a small cymbal duct taped to it.

Their green faces were stoic. Bob overheard one of the trombone players whisper to another, "I think they're trained by the Russian military to not have any emotion." Bob smiled.

The performance went well. Parker and Chase each had a tone-shifting drum and were on the ground, each hitting the same beat. Marcus started complementing it on the bass drum, while Ryan sat in front of Parker and Chase, adjusting the tones as they played so it sounded awesome. The principal came out and sat on the chair, and Parker got up, strapped the hat to Mr. Terry's head, then as Marcus started beating the bass drum deliberately, Parker would hit the small cymbal. (Mr. Terry's reactions were priceless.)

Eventually, Mr. Terry got up, and Parker started playing a beat on the chair, using the seat and metal legs. Marcus got up, grabbed the multiple drum kit, and hooked one end to a support, so it was upside down, held on one end by Marcus and the other by the stand. Chase and Ryan stopped, went to Parker, and picked him up, each holding one of his legs on their shoulder. They walked him over to Marcus, and then Parker started playing the drum kit upside down. The crowd started cheering.

That was basically how it went for the next ten minutes. By then, the Green Men had left their instruments and had started breakdancing closer to the bleachers. It was pretty awesome- there was a four man worm, connected hands to ankles. Bob thought evil thoughts.

While the Green Men breakdanced, the Masked Men were supposed to "sneak up" behind them and start playing. The Green Men would stop, get up, and act macho and territorial, making wild arm gestures, like, "Come at me, bro!" It was all part of the act. (Bob really felt like that, though.)

Three of the girls started playing a fast beat on snare drums and the bass drum, and the other rotated between the two. The Green Men stopped dancing and commenced the arm gestures.

The Masked Men stopped, then got all up in the guys' faces, almost challenging them. Bob couldn't tell who was who because, as agreed upon, all the girls were wearing white masks and black baggy sweats.

"Who are they?" one of the flute players whispered behind Bob.

"I dunno," another replied. "They must be new."

Some music started playing, and the two groups fell into formation and started dancing. Pretty standard.

"Well," the flute player said, "I think they're girls. Guys can't move their butts like that."

Bob whipped his attention to the girls.

They were, indeed, doing some sort of gyrating dance and moving their butts in a way that should be illegal.

Bob's eyes popped out of his head.

As it progressed, it became apparent that the Masked Men would specialize in dancing. They breakdanced with the Green Men for about 5 more minutes (which Bob admitted was badass) and even Gangnam Style (which, somehow, was also badass) and eventually they all joined hands, bowed, and left the court, the Green Men carrying the instruments.

A small, dark-haired girl with weird glasses sitting near Bob was squealing. "OMG, that was so awesome! And cute! God. I SHIP THEM, I SO SHIP THEM!!!" She was hyperventilating now.

Oh my god. Some people.

---------

After the pep rally, everyone went to second period. Bob had European History.

With Jennifer.

As he entered, he saw her sitting in her usual spot. Bob ungracefully slid into the desk next to her. A note landed on his desk.

So?

He tossed it back.

Jennifer opened it.

It was fine.

She smiled smugly at him. He gave her the evil eye.

They didn't talk again until lunch.

"Bob."

He had to grudgingly admit, "You guys were good. But the Green Men played drums better." He crossed his arms in a huff, leaning back into his chair and staring at his food.

Jennifer replied, "But we're better at dancing."

Bob smiled a tiny smile. "Yeah, that was pretty hot."

She kissed him on the cheek, and they held hands under the table.

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