Doctor Puppet Who: Bagpipes and Barrels

  "It's not the end of the world, Jamie. It's just a performance, one of many."
  "Easy for you to say!" Jamie snapped and huddled up in a ball. "You're the famous SkyRiver singer!"
  River sighed and blew a lock of her curly hair off her forehead. She had seen cases of such stubbornness when it was about girls, but this was new for her. The matter was that the group of students of Tardis Boarding School was to take part in a charity concert in London. The scenario was ready, and the group had been chosen, but there was a problem. Or two. Or three...
  "Oh man, Jamie, I'm not the best singer in the world. When I hear my voice recorded, I wanna shoot the player from the real gun. Every time. And you haven't tried even to take part. Come on, Mr. Smith is waiting."
  After some more minutes of coaxing (the best of which was Jack's reminding about milk rice porridge: "you used to hate it before you tried it, and then you ate a potful of it and asked for more") Jamie agreed to walk to the assembly hall, where the rest of the performers were rehearsing. Funny enough, they all were Magister brothers, all but one - Darko had refused to take part, and no wonder: he hated public performances more than anything, being more of a grey cardinal planning behind.
  Jamie felt some kind of relief when he saw that he was not the only worrying one. Yanek Magister was as well: bright blush on his cheeks gave it all out. No wonder. All his brothers had slim figures, some with a hint of sporty (especially Tony), and he was more of a thickset stature, though not fat at all.
  "There you are!" Johnny Magister exclaimed, having spotted Jamie. "We're lacking one link. Couldn't come earlier?"
  "Stop that, Johnny," Mr. Smith asked, nodding for Jamie to approach closer. "Well then, now the set can be called complete."
  Only now Jamie saw that each Magister was holding a pair of drumsticks, and there were seven huge barrels of different size (the tallest one was reaching a little higher that Eric Magister's waist, the smallest was half of Jamie's height) standing at the edges of the stage: three at one side, four at the other.
  "The order is like this: Harold, Yanek, Roger, Eric, Tony, Johnny, Jamie," Mr. Smith continued. "But, as far as Jamie doesn't know the sequence, show him what you've already learned."
  He turned the music on, and the sequence began. It appeared to be a combination of dancing and drumming: at first the Magisters brought their barrels onto the stage (and not just so, but according to the recorded drumbeat at the background), and then the real fun started. The music appeared to be extracted not only from double drums, but from bagpipes as well. And it was not any 'nails screeching glass', as some especially music-picky kids (and not only kids) mentioned, it was a lively cheerful tune. Truly fast. Jamie memorized the tune momentarily, but as about the moves... They seemed simple - at first the Magisters were just beating out the rhythm, then brought the barrels together, then Johnny and Harold climbed onto them and began beating out the rhythm with their feet, while their older brothers formed a slowly turning circle around them.
  But the trial to become part of the sequence was failed with a crack. The drumming sequence went on quite well (Mr. Smith knew whom to add - Jamie had an inborn talent for music, that's for sure, the trouble was that it wasn't in bloom yet), but when it came to the culmination part, Jamie got tangled in his own legs and broke all order, having crashed into Tony.
  "Fuss, you messed up the direction?" the older kid yelped.
  After three more failed trials (all for different reasons) Mr. Smith decided to interfere.
  "Remain here, boys, I'll return soon," he informed and gestured Jamie to come closer. "Have you ever danced on stage, Jamie?"
  "N-no, Mr. Smith. I've never danced much."
  "You know what? I know a woman who can teach you the basics of drumdance. Miss Poisson. And I could ask her to help you."
  "And... you sure that the sequence won't do without me? I know, we don't have many boys in our group, but..."
  "Jamie! Trust me, you're the best candidate for the seventh dancer! Can't you see?" Mr. Smith nodded at the stage, where the Magisters were working the drumming sequence out once again (Johnny and Harold were shining from the inside, while Yanek seemed completely exhausted). "Natural rhythmic sense, love for actions and - let's be sincere - fitting appearance!"
  "Oh... aye."

  Jamie had been learning how to dance before, but he had been kicked out after two or three lessons. And the reason had been quite mundane: the wish to show the teacher how well he coped with the task. But the teacher had been of those who believe that only humiliation and harsh attitude would make her students real people, so she had reacted with "Can't you hide your shame, Scottish Quasimodo?!" And, as far as Jamie always went highly flammable when it was about unfair matters... it had finished not in the best way. This is why he was making his way to the small training hall not far from school with not the best feeling.
  Miss Poisson appeared to be a lady of about thirty of such appearance as if she walked out of the storybook. Or a portrait made two hundred years ago. A perfect candidate for the role of a fairytale princess.
  "Hello," Jamie began, not knowing what to say.
  "Ah, you're Jamie McCrimmon?"
  "Aye."
  "Mr. Smith told me that you'll come. Get ready and let's begin."
  A very promising start, Jamie thought. In a minute he was standing in front of her, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a baggy tee.
  "It'll be the drumdance," he explained. "Mr. Smith said I need to learn the basics."
  Miss Poisson examined him head to toe.
  "A-ha... Do you know what you need for the best performance?" she asked. Jamie shrugged. "Shoes. Drumdance will not be drumdance without shoes with clicking soles. But for today we'll have a training without them. Just the beginning."
  Jamie nodded.
  "There's a saying: 'Dance is nothing, entrance is everything'. A good entrance is necessary, so let's begin. First of all, relax, but don't hang like a string puppet. Raise your elbows a little bit... no, not so high... that's better. Like this. And now follow me! Slowly. Imagine the drumbeat in your head and follow it. At first slow, then make it a little faster, and don't lose it, Jamie. One... two... three... four... one... two... three... four... Good. Don't lift your knees like that, it looks as if you're trying to escape a poisonous snake! And don't forget to click your soles!"
  In fifteen minutes Jamie was panting like insane, but he went on circling the gym in the needed way. Blasted baggy pants threatened to fall off any moment, and feet were pulsing with hitting the floor. Thank goodness it was the first floor, no one was to yell from below.

  "Fullautomatix," Six muttered, having climbed over Jamie's pillow. "No wonder if he won't be able to stand up tomorrow."
  "Why do you have to think so?" Seven wondered, having pushed Six in his patchwork side with a firm wooden elbow.
  "Look at his feet. And he was panting like an old train when he came," Six replied. "Anybody has a clue what is going on?"
  "Anybody except for you, Sixie." Eleven crept to them. "Our Jamie attempts to learn how to dance for the upcoming event. Together with the Magisters..."
  "The Magisters?!"
  A heavy 'bonk!' from behind made Nine, the leather doll, roll his button eyes.
  "I told you, Five, that some day your gymnastics will end in bump and tears!" he grunted.
  "After the big bang against the wall because of annoying youngest sibling?! I fear nothing since then!" Click, click, click - and the porcelain doll in Edwardian whites was on Jamie's bed-table. "Who was talking about the Magisters?"
  "I was. Seven performers are needed for the prepared drumdance, and there are six Magisters who can dance," Eleven continued. "Naturalmente, Darko refused, so Headmaster Smith decided that Jamie would be the seventh."
  "Hold it. Yanek takes part too? But he's so..." Nine began and suppressed a howl when Seven elbowed him as well.
  "Fat? You haven't seen him in motion!"
  "Calm down, all of you. I'm going to watch out for them. If it's about the Magisters, it means nothing smooth," Two put in - all this time he was pretending to be picking the stitch on his knee.

  "Jamie, do you know what the five-minute dance is? It's a hellish work. I appreciate that you put all your effort and attempt to do your best, but you definitely need more than my lessons. Look at yourself. Your sequence is going to last five minutes at least, and you begin to pant after two or three moves. You'd better started doing morning exercises."
  Nevertheless Jamie felt some kind of pride when Johnny and Harold stopped throwing mocking glances at him at the rehearsals. And one day even Tony decided to help the non-Magister of the team:
  "Know what's your main mistake, McCrimmon? You don't get full control of your upper half while operating the lower one. Yeah, you get into the rhythm, but it's also about image! Control your shoulders, move them up and down, not to the sides! A little bit, like a slow-down boxer!"
  The result of Jamie's next trial made Tony roll his eyes and walk to his place with a mutter:
  "Thank goodness there will be only bagpipes. Little nutcase Scot!"
  What to say, Jamie couldn't watch out for all his limbs at the same time. Thank goodness later it went easier. But it wasn't about learning or listening to sharp phrases. The 'deadline' was approaching, and Jamie didn't feel more sure about his performance after every new training. Two days before the concert, after the bagpipes tune was over (Mr. Smith had allowed him to copy it for training) and he stopped, Miss Poisson summed it all up:
  "Quite good, Jamie. But it should be not so meek. If you make a mistake, there will be much fewer ones who will know you did it, so dance as if you're going to cross the sea on foot. And one more: never show anyone that you're tired or desperate. Smile until you're sure that nobody sees you."

  The Magisters knew everything about worrying. Jamie made sure of it when he saw that Johnny and Harold were acting unusually for them - once a minute one of them glanced at the other, as if trying to read the emotions. No wonder. Their faces were identical, so it was easy for them to check if they both were calm or not.
  All the Tardis Boarding School drumdancers were waiting for their turn, as well as more groups from all schools which took part in the performance. Some just walked by, some were rehearsing moves and voice tones, but it all went on quite peaceful until a group of girls dressed in mixes of swimsuits and cabaret dresses walked in.
  "Ha-ah, Tardisers!" The seeming leader of them, a girl which looked like Maleficent with too much make-up, stepped forward. "The freaky Magisters with an addition! And you're going to dance?! Hold me, I'm dying!"
  "Get away for good, Redrum." Roger stood up from his barrel and gazed at her without blinking. "This is not a competition, and I wish it was."
  "Drumdance!" Redrum exclaimed. "You could've found yourself girlfriends with walking sticks! No heads, no talent and a lot of illusions, boys!"
  Tony jumped up, but Yanek grabbed him by the wrist, signalling that it was not a good idea.
  "So you think you're dancers? And professionals? You're boneheads, Magisters! People train for years, 24/7, until they fall exhausted," Redrum went on. "And you'd better not pushed your crooked noses into that. All hall is going to laugh. I guarantee! And you're completely out of fashion. Everybody wants awesomeness and sexiness, and you have none! Even in minus!"
  The group laughed, and they all marched away.
  "Don't mind Redrum. She doesn't even know what her pseudonym means," Yanek whispered to Jamie.
  "And what does it mean?"
  "Read it backwards. I guess it's because THIS is what she does to those who are considered better than her."
  "How do you know, Yanek?"
  "It goes on every time. Last year I accompanied River at this event, and you know what Redrum did? She spoilt River's stage dress. Cut its back in two. And our River mended it with the first thread she found, walked out and performed her song. Redrum was green with rage."
  "River Song wouldn't be River Song if she wasn't able to do such things," Eric lazily mentioned.
  Jamie tugged the red-and-black Scottish-tartan stripe of cloth sewn in a ring that was hanging across his shoulder. They all had such ones on, as well as white loose shirts with unfastened collars, dark straight pants and red tam-o'-shanters. Thank goodness not kilts, though Jamie wouldn't mind it at all. They were not too fitting for drumdance, that's all. And as about the shoes, they were going to be taken on just before their entrance, because they were very uncomfortable.
  "Strictly saying, I am the one who will suffer from clothing the most," Eric continued. "Glasses. If they fall off, farewell everything."
  "Show-off," Johnny and Harold snapped.
  Finally the announcement was there.
  "Barrel drumdance! Tardis Boarding School!"

  Click click.
  Seven boys walked from behind the curtain, carrying seven barrels.
  Click click.
  They formed a symmetrical line - one in black glassed in the middle, then two dark-topped and one blond at each side.
  Tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tump.
  Then Jamie didn't feel anything during the time of their performance. As if it was someone else who was catching up with the tune of bagpipes (hardly heard behind the rhythm of drumsticks and clicking soles), keeping the most cheerful face expression and watching out for everything to be in motion - click-click, click-click, drumsticks, top half up and down, up and down, just a wee bit, 'like a slow-down boxer'.
  The only time when there was a glimpse of nervous mood was when Johnny, Harold and Jamie climbed onto the barrels placed in a narrow ring. And then the fun began. All of a sudden - perhaps there had been a spark between Johnny and Harold, as it appears between twins sometimes (and this time it probably decided to infect Jamie as well) - the three pairs of drumsticks were placed behind their belts, and all three began thumping their legs and clapping their hands in a very familiar rhythm, though it hadn't been present in any of their rehearsals. Thank heavens the music was paused for now.
  Thump-thump-clap. Thump-thump-clap. Thump-thump-clap. Thump-thump-clap.
  "Harold, you fool..." Eric hissed.
  "Johnny, it was not planned!" Yanek mouthed.
  "McCrimmon, I thought pipes were your cup of tea!" Tony finished.
  No one heard that, except for themselves. Johnny, Harold and Jamie went on beating the familiar rhythm out until it was time to get down. And they did. Then it was again like a dream. Click-click-click, row, flop, sit, drumsticks against the floor in front of crossed legs.
  And head down.
  Only when the hall went alive with applause, Jamie released the gulp of air he hadn't realized he had been holding.

  "Saw that, toad-face?! You and your fake lashes won't do anything like that!"
  That was the first thing that Jamie heard after he found himself behind the stage: Jack, who had managed to sneak in (no matter how), was telling Redrum what was right and wrong.
  "Shut up! Now I will come out and show everybody who's the best!" And she walked to the stage entrance, having given Tony a strong push along the way. But everybody forgot about her as soon as another voice, deep and husky, sounded:
  "Nitwits! Get those shoes off Roger! NOW!"
  The Magisters (and not only they) were so dumbfounded by the presence of their next to oldest representative that they got his message not from the first time. Darko roared with frustration, and right at this moment Roger bleached and collapsed onto the floor. Johnny and Harold helped him get his shoes off - and yelped with horror: their oldest brother's right foot was covered in blood, and the right shoe was soaked with it. Tony quickly brought a first-aid kit from the supply room, and Yanek immediately set off to work to bandage Roger's foot, while Eric went to call for ambulance.
  "Redrum," Darko explained. "She put razors into Roger's shoes. He's lucky that he's got only one foot damaged... Yanek, are you done? Think that I'm heartless, but I want you to see Redrum's face when she sees who's the best here."
  After Roger was taken to hospital (the ambulance arrived much earlier than it should've done it - and that's for the best), the drumdancers gathered to watch the burlesque-styled performance of Redrum's group which included lots of twirling and glittering and turning everything possible.
  "And what did you do, Darko? Broke her high heels?" Tony whispered. "That would've been fun."
  "Nothing says 'I'm a jerk!' better than..."
  There was a sound of ripping cloth and a truly Greek scream - high-pitched, ear-ripping and echoing four thousand times.
  "...the expected reaction on a much cleaner trick," Darko went on. "It's miraculous. One click of scissors and such an effect!.. I'm thinking if I should make her a much better hairstyle. Smooth as a lightbulb, for instance."
  Tony chuckled evil-like and gazed at Redrum, who seemingly turned into a statue in front of the audience. She didn't even try to put the remains of her costume together (thank goodness everything that needed to be covered wasn't exposed).
  "Remind me what school she's from," he asked.
  "Rockwell, I suppose," Eric replied. "Remember, they had a Six Minds all-girl team named Angels... Hey Tony, look at our Scot. He's hysterical." He pointed at Jamie, who could not hold the half-insane laughter in, while Yanek was attempting to calm him down.

  "Did you really have to ask about it just now?"
  Two and the newest member of 'number squad' - the repainted and remade doll named Warrior Vix - were hiding behind the curtain, speaking only when the sounds of untuned musical instruments filled the place.
  "He's alone here, and he can't hear us," Vix answered. "Was that you who called for ambulance?"
  "How do you know about that?"
  "I got into Johnny's bag. Got curious."
  "YOU could've called," Two pouted. "You don't have soft hands which drop everything heavy against their owner's... OW!"
  The latest was cased by a howl of a trumpet (before there had been sounds of strings).
  "MCCRIMMON!" The door burst open, allowing very angry Eric to enter. "What - are - you - doing - here? Your howling nearly blew my glasses to pieces! And windows too."
  "Sorry Eric," Jamie replied and took the clarinet from a pile of musical instruments on his bed. "That's my payment."
  "Payment?"
  "Aye. I would've let you down if it wasn't for Miss Poisson who taught me how to dance. But, as Mr. Lethbridge-Stuart says, you gotta pay for everything. So she asked me to check these for failures and tune those which need it," he nodded at the instruments.
  "And do you know how this is done?"
  "My father was a musician, so that's in all of me."
  "See what your fishy teacher says if you fail..." Eric muttered.
  Jamie blew into the trumpet, and as far as he couldn't play it, the instrument squeaked, oinked and snored before the correct sound was extracted from it. Two and Vix couldn't realize if this was done specifically to enrage Eric or it was supposed to give these sounds out.
  However, it worked both ways. Eric didn't yell at Jamie anymore, but when the sound torture was over, he glanced into the room again.
  "Next time I'll make flutes out of your bones, McCrimmon," he promised with a very pissed-off look (not hidden by his dark glasses) and slammed the door shut.