Frigid Brigid the Majorette

And one of the hardest, especially for the flutes. Fortunately the trombone part was not that hard. As he pumped away on his slide he smiled, watching Brigid twirl, at first slowly, but then her body went from purple to red, and her smile once again became the smile of a living person.

But --

Now she stumbled! The heels of one of her flip-flops sank into the mud.

..................

Brigid stumbled, but only for a second. She didn't seem upset about it. In fact she seemed to expect it. Then, to his astonishment, hardly missing a beat she kicked the heeled flip-flop off to the side, where it landed on the 40-yard line, and on the next beat kicked off the other. And she continued her routine like nothing had happened.

Rod's eyes widened as he pumped his trombone. So did the other trombone guys. Brigid was strutting and twirling barefoot! Yuck! The sleety mud was up almost to her ankles, oozing up between her toes, as she spun and kicked. On her kicks to the side and front, little bits of mud flew out from her toes. Within seconds the school colors on her toenails were totally obscured by brown muck.

Yuck! What a violation of the rule about what Sarge always called "neat and proper presentation"! Yet Sarge, on the sidelines, was actually smiling. And talking to people to his side, as if answering their comments. Rod realized this was what Sarge had been mentioning to Brigid before halftime, when he had pulled her away from chatting with her uncle the cop. "If it gets too muddy, dispense with the footwear."

Now the showy part, and the trombones swung to the left and then to the right, in perfect sync. This was the beginning of the "trio" section, the main tune, and as they broke into it the crowd cheered. Nothing like your folks and your family cheering you on. It was a great feeling. The TV cameras were eating it up, scanning the field, each line of the band kicking and high-stepping, all the way back to the percussion line at the rear. But most of all the cameras trained on the barefoot majorette slopping around in the cold mud.

Brigid was having a great time. As she spun and twirled and threw the baton up, it looked like a different type of dancing. Looser-limbed, more relaxed. More African. She was so stiff and formal sometimes, it seemed like she had a second baton up her butt. But not now! It stood to reason that without having to totter on those heels, having to grip her toes to keep those backless sandals on, she could move around more freely. It also just was the sensible thing to kick off the sandals when twirling on a muddy surface. He wondered when she had practiced majoretting barefoot. Certainly each time he had seen her, doing twirls on that grassy patch during recess, she had worn shoes.

Her face was flushed, not with cold now but with exertion. Imagine! Not two minutes ago she was shivering and miserable and battling hypothermia. Now she was alive and hot. He realized for the first time what twirling meant to her, what a thrill it was for her. Nobody would suspect it, seeing her around school in her regular clothes, mostly a quiet normal girl, talking with her friends in the hall... Now, dancing around barefoot and nearly naked in the mud in front of the crowd and the cameras.

And now as she swung around, her jiggling breasts leading the way as she threw them just so, she looked back at him and smiled. Just for him. His heart leapt. Yes!! She wasn't mad at him for confronting her about running off the field to put on that nice warm coat. He could see now that she had made the right decision to tough it out. How much would have been lost if at this moment the band's majorette was huddled on the sidelines.

But she was smiling at him -- remembering that he had said "I care about you Brigid"! He didn't know what the future would bring, but right now it looked promising.

With the sleet no longer hitting their ponchos, the band really rang out. Now on the final few bars they hit fortissimo. The drum guard's beats sounded like cannons. The big climax to the tune, the show, the season! Now Brigid threw an incredibly high throw, the baton going up what looked like a hundred feet, and she spun around and spun around like five times as it took seemingly half an hour to come down.

Holy ----! She was really going to do it! A split! Brigid turned to the side and her left leg went forward and her right leg back -- and as her bare butt hit the mud, her muddy toes spread and extended in front, kicking out mud, she caught the baton on the final cymbal crash. The trombone players thrust their instruments up to the sky in unison.

A pregnant second, and then the crowd let loose with a big roar. He thought he could detect a chanting undercurrent in there, some guys in the back rows maybe, "Frigid Brigid Frigid Brigid Frigid Brigid Frigid Brigid -- "

Sarge ran out and helped Brigid up. The insides of her legs were coated with mud but she didn't care. On his prompting everyone took a bow. Then Sarge playfully waved to the camera guy who was now within ten feet of them. Brigid waved too, with a big smile and a wink, her other hand tucking the baton next to her bare hip.

Rod smiled, looking at her flushed butt, her total nakedness from behind, interrupted only by the splatters of mud on her back, her buns, her legs, and the tiny horizontal string just above her crack, and he thought of her lovely hidden brown eye. Maybe it was winking at him now. It was corny but he decided to wink back.

Halftime show over, the band broke formation and trotted off the field as the football players, now assembled at the sidelines, waited to charge onto it. Brigid ran to retrieve her sandals; then zigzagged back to the fence, her toes kicking up bits of mud behind her. He watched her go.

She ran to the gate where her three little sisters and two little brothers were waiting along with her parents too, all cheering and laughing, and ready with warm washable boots, a big fluffy blanket to wrap herself in while they watched the second half, and a huge thermos full of hot chocolate!

IV: T--- High School Board Meeting

Minutes taken 10/1/09.

"Next order of business, Ms. Kleinfelter's proposal for a modification to the Tunemasters Uniform."

"My proposal," she said, untying the accordion folder and fishing out a stack of papers, "is to modify the lower half of the majorette uniform. This is called the 'Petra Red String', though of course it will be in the school colors, white on the right side and black on the left."

The papers, drawings of the proposal, were passed around. After they had studied them for a moment, Board President Jones said, "What are the advantages of this modification?"

"Threefold. First, there has always been a question of pubic hair showing, which as you know is in violation of specs." By "specs" she meant the local public decency law, a copy of which was provided to each year's majorette so that she could guard against accidental exposure. "Currently the majorette shaves so much of her pubic hair as to not show, but there is always the chance of exposure during a vigorous twirl or jump. With this modification, she will have to shave entirely. If she has no pubic hair, none can show.

"Secondly, it is more secure. It lodges between the girl's vaginal lips, instead of drifting precariously over them."

Board V.P. Charlton, an old guy in a business suit who was nearsighted, had taken off his glasses and was holding up the drawing to his eyes dispassionately. "Are you sure this is compliant?"

"Yes. I spoke to the mayor's assistant. The genitals must be covered, but the area AROUND the lips, as opposed to the inner lips, is not part of the genitals.

"The third reason is, not to put too fine a point on it, but having the string inside her vagina and -- other parts of her -- provides stimulation that will help her keep warm during parades and other events when the weather is inclement. Also, because it sits closer to her body, it impacts more closely to her anus, with similar results."

They sat around the table, littered with empty coffee cups and stacks of memos, and contemplated the proposal.

"How fast can this modification be made."

"It already HAS been made," Ms. Kleinfelter said. She unthreaded the string from the staple that held it to the accordion folder and held it up. "This, gentlemen, is it."

She extended the tiny black and white string between her hands. They were impressed.

Jones looked around and sensed agreement. He didn't have to ask. "It has been decided," he said, leaning over to the secretary taking minutes. "The majorette will get the new lower half at the next cleaning.

"Next order of business . . . Advertising the new bond issue . . ."

V: Brigid at the Winter Carnival

They were in between songs in the big practice room and Sarge, up on his stool, looking down at his stand, itched behind his ear with his baton as he read from the papers in front of him. Rod sat in the trombone section, looking across the sea of black faces and the occasional white one, especially Brigid in the clarinet section, trying to catch her eye. She was very fetching today, no jean jacket, but a purple sweater over a white collared shirt. Some girls looked good no matter what they wore. The strands of Brigid's red hair, long and loose, played over the shoulders of the fluffy sweater.

Alas, Brigid wasn't looking at him. Her attention was fixed on Sarge as he went over the new invitation. "Now, this is a big step for us, the Winter Carnival at Killington. We've never been at an event like that before. We'll be doing straight marching, but the affair is kind of, how shall I say it, glitzy. You notice the uniforms are gone," he said, motioning to the empty coat racks around the perimeter of the room. "Some shiny piping is being put in. But we won't be doing any different moves, just what we did basically at the Patriots pregame in Foxboro.

"Now, this is at night, the middle of winter, up in Vermont. It will be cold. The thermal underwear that some of you were wearing in Foxboro, well some of it was too bulky. A couple of you looked like you were about to explode." There was some laughter; everyone knew exactly the kids he was talking about. "So the school has decided to spring for streamlined thermals, made especially for marching bands. We have to get the orders in right away. Let me know now. Who is going to be wearing thermals?"

He looked up and saw almost everyone raising their hands. He counted. Now Brigid's hand slowly rose to join the others. Sarge laughed. "Not you!!", and good-naturedly waved her hand down with his baton. Brigid put her hand on her lap and stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

After he had taken the count, Sarge said, "OK, enough talk. Let's get to 'National Emblem'." He raised his baton and waited for the shuffling of sheet music until everyone was ready.

His baton still up, Sarge covered his eyes and said, "Sorry, I just had a vision of our band being led by a majorette in long johns." He shook the thought out of his head as some of the kids laughed. Then he looked at Brigid. "Don't worry, it won't be a long march. And not like that last game. No standing still in the freezing rain while some old guy gives an endless speech."

Brigid, remembering, momentarily dropped the clarinet from her mouth to say, "Zhhhh!" and shudder. Debra and Virginia and some of her other girlfriends giggled in sympathy.

Baton still up, Sarge said, "By the way, we'll be marching on packed snow, so the majorette's footwear is being revised to be more secure. Also, some other uniform changes."

Tentatively, Brigid said, "Like what?"

"Well I understand they're doing away with the circlets. Okay, let's go!"

His baton went down for the first beat.

"Thhhhbbbvvvvssshhhzzz!!!"

It was a spectacular flub, from the suddenly dry lips of the trombone section.

The room burst out with laughter as if it had been the world's loudest fart.

"Goodness that was horrible," Sarge said, cutting off the tune. "Let's try again." He raised his baton. "Let's go!"

..................

Rod straightened his sleeve and looked down with mixed feelings at his new uniform. He glanced around and saw that he was in a big room. Tunemasters uniforms were milling all around. Playing with the slide of his trombone, he decided to sit down at one of the long tables near the sodas.

He looked around for Brigid. She was not hard to pick out.

...................

He wondered why he was fiddling with his trombone. Everyone else almost, had their instruments over on those cabinets on the side of the room. It was a pretty big place, maybe a cafeteria or something for this big ski resort, whose Winter Carnival the Tunemasters were marching in. Converted to a kind of waiting room for the marchers.

He was still not sure about these new uniforms. Sarge had explained that the effect was to be a bit more glitzy, so they had been jazzed up a little. There were now ruffles along the buttons and on the cuffs, and extra piping up and down. He supposed it made them look taller. The piping, though, was gold. Weren't the school colors supposed to be black and white?

"I'm not quite down with it either," his friend Jared said. Jared had wisely put his cymbals on the cabinets and was carefully sipping a soda he had gotten from the little serving table, which had sodas and pretty much nothing else. Just something to wet everyone's lips, he supposed, to get ready for playing. Jared and Rod looked down their uniforms, at their jackets with the big "T" over the right breast, the cummerbund, the long braided trousers with the now-gold piping, down to the long black boots.

He shifted a bit. This new thermal underwear, necessary because of the intense cold outside, was a bit itchy.

"Good thing it's not too hot," Jared said, reading Rod's thoughts. Their own thermals had gotten them hot while they were inside. These special-order ones didn't.

"Yeah... " He looked up at the TV screen mounted from the ceiling. A Vermont station, from Burlington, a brief news break. "And we will have live coverage of this year's Killington Winter Carnival, starting next." And now a long view of the route they would be marching, pure white, plowed snow, with ropes marking off the "street". Maybe there really was a street there in warm weather, but you couldn't tell now. Just to the side, a stand of skis and other equipment, then a kiosk that led to a path to the ski lifts, with a few people carrying skis to it. A big contraption that looked like a tractor, with a pile of snow behind it -- a snow making machine and a salt water tank, someone said. A little silo which contained a gift shop. And Christmas-style string lights hung over the route at intervals, held up by poles on each side. It was almost sundown -- for some reason this parade was at night -- but it was still hard for the camera to adjust to the sunlit whiteness. The camera got a little better adjusted and now one could see the orange electrical wires strewn along the sides of the packed snow "street". Lots of lights up.

He looked around. The room was mostly full of Tunemasters kids but also there were some grown-ups. Some important-looking guys in top hats and white gloves, maybe the Grand Marshals or something, talking to Sarge, who was in his usual bland business suit. Also some soldiers, a couple of old American Legion guys in their boy scout-style caps. Ladies' Auxiliary folks. But mostly Tunemasters. About forty of them were able to make this trip and they outnumbered the rest.

He licked his lips and looked at the soda table. Jamal's lips didn't need wetting, he was percussion, but Rod wondered what it would be like to blow into a trombone in such cold. Yes, there was that last game when it sleeted for a while, and that big parade before the Patriots game, but this parade was actually below freezing. As in, his lips might freeze to his mouthpiece! They had never marched outside in January before. It was already maybe 25 degrees and the temperature was sure to drop once it got dark. Fortunately there didn't seem to be any wind.

On the TV, two guys in ski outfits were talking in the foreground. In the background you could see people filling up behind the ropes.

He decided on soda, but it had to be clear so as not to make a stain on his uniform if it spilled. Luckily they had 7-Up. He returned his trombone to the cabinets and got a can and sipped.

He took another view of the room. The new uniforms sure made the Tunemasters look different. Before, the effect was kind of military. Now, with the luxuriant ruffles and piping, and the big new shako hats with frills that a lot of them already had put on, the effect was more like entertainment, like a big show in Las Vegas. Jaycee, Virginia, Debra, Morganna, Sid, Ty, Jacob... they all seemed to be wearing more clothes, somehow, taking up more space. And the gold piping made their raiment seem all the more abundant. It was not actually bad, he decided, just different. Hard to get used to.

He wondered about the changes to the uniform of the majorette, Brigid. He looked around for her but she was hard to find in all this finery. A - ha! Behind that clot of flute and clarinet players, all girls, he saw two bare white butt cheeks slightly sticking out in profile.

He and Brigid had a special bond, he knew, or he thought he knew, based on that on-field conversation at that last game, but it hard been hard to build on. He just couldn't screw up the courage to ask her out. Mostly he could just chat in the hall whenever he saw her between classes. It was a big high school and hard to "bump into" someone accidentally-on-purpose. And he couldn't think of anything interesting to talk about. "What's up?" He kept kicking himself for being so inane.

He took a deep breath, sipped from the can, and approached her.

As he walked up behind her he saw she was talking with Velda and Lourdes, friends of hers from the clarinet section, who were straightening out their jackets. Brigid was enthusing about the new piping, feeling the fabric in her fingers, testing the ruffles

"That's so neat, pwiddy!" she said in her "Pwovidince" accent. "They'll get a big chahge out of that!"

Rod looked down past Brigid's bare shoulders and slim, bare back, and for a second he thought she was totally naked! But no, the strings that held the thong bottom on were still there, they were just transparent now. Kind of like clear plastic, hard to see, and only what looked like an eighth of an inch wide. Also they didn't meet at a "T" like before. They curved down, well below her sacral dimples, and into her butt crack where they met. Kind of like a "V" in script. Down below, she had on her backless majorette sandals.

"Oh hi Rod!" Brigid said, turning around. He bit his lip as he saw her pretty white Irish face, the freckles and the red hair set up in braids. "You look real nice!" As she smoothed his ruffles he looked up. Her little cap had disappeared.

"Nice tiara," he said, thankful he could remember the name for that little half-crown that was now on her head. With a "T" in the middle, otherwise just a little half-circle of metal or maybe plastic, the ends going into her hair.

Brigid turned her head side to side as if modeling it.

"What's that? A headset?"

There was a little piece of it going into her ear.

"No, just a speakah so I can heah Sahge," she said, tapping it. "This way he doesn't have to mahch right next to us, he can give me directions to go fast, go slow... And how about my new 'T's?!"

His eyes widened as he looked down to her chest. The ever-shrinking circlets were now gone. In their place were black-and-white T's mounted on her nipples. They were maybe three inches high. His mouth opened in puzzlement. Behind them he could clearly see the circles of her nipples, a little below the junction of the "T". They were about the size of quarters. He had heard that white girls, their nipples were pink until the first time they went out topless in the sun. Then they turned brown and never went back. Brigid's nipples, as anyone could see, were pink, against her white skin.