Post by thornshade on May 30, 2017 10:58:08 GMT -5
(these guys are my faves and there's wayyy more story than this but I still have no name for it, even after working on it for 2+ years? suggestions for a title would be much appreciated 
)
“Look out!”
I barely heard the cry of the teenage boy literally sliding down the wet, icy sidewalk over the pop-punk blaring in my earbuds, but I moved out of the way mere seconds before he could take me downhill with him. He continued sliding, the back of his plum-colored jacket covered in slush and snow with his long legs stretched out in front of himself, catching on the ice. He flew face-first into the bushes at the bottom of the hill with a resounding ‘thud’. I laughed loudly; then I realized he wasn’t moving and headed downhill, pulling out my earbuds.
“Hey, are you alright?” I called to him, setting my backpack in the snow. When he let out a slur of curses in response, I sighed and moved the prickly branches aside before yanking him out of the foliage.
“Dang, that hurt,” he mumbled, flicking some blood away from a cut above his left eye. He rose shakily, brushing powder-white snow off of his jacket before jamming his fists into his pockets, keeping them warm. He didn’t bother to brush the white stuff from his dark brown hair or off the tops of his now-sopping jet-black hightops.
“How did you—“
“To make a long story short,” he said, cutting me off, “I got to the top of the hill and, due to the ice, I fell on my arse.”
“Nice,” I smirked, grinning at his simple story before picking my bag up again. “I’m Delilah,” I added after a moment, “and are you?”
“Ah, I’m Luke – Luke Reynolds. You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.
“Mhmm,” I said, beginning to walk uphill with him, “I just moved here just a few days ago.”
“I wondered – hadn’t seen anyone at school with hair like yours before,” he said, motioning to my long, blonde-and-red dip-dyed locks, now damp from the snow.
“Yeah,” I grinned, “I like to make a statement.”
“You had earbuds in when I yelled at you – what were you listening to?” Luke asked after a moment of silence.
“Oh, All Time Low – they’re a pop-punk band from Balti-“
“Really? They’re one of my favorites!” he told me, his amber-brown eyes flashing with excitement. “’For Baltimore’ is one of their best songs, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, yes! I really just like their ‘Put Up or Shut Up’ EP, though... “Lullabies” is incredible,” I gushed after a second thought.
“That’s true,” he said to me, still grinning.
We continued to chatter about our new-found commonality, almost as if we were old friends reuniting. When we reached the top of the hill, he took the fork to the left and paused when he noticed I wasn’t going the same way.
“This is where we go our separate ways, huh?” Luke said to me, his cheeks flushed from the cold.
“I guess so. It was nice to meet you – maybe I’ll see you around at school?” I added, careful to keep my voice even and not too hopeful. It wasn’t often I made new friends so quickly.
“Don’t worry, you will,” he smiled and then waved goodbye, trudging down the snowy sidewalk in his sopping hightops.
That was how I met Luke Reynolds himself – how this crazy endeavor of becoming a great musician even started. It was a weird experience, how he and the other boys found me. I posted covers of some songs on YouTube, and as it turns out, Asher – their drummer – stumbled upon them. They then sought me out, and told me to meet them during lunch in our school’s band room. It all really started in the band room, I suppose.
I was never going to regret going in there.
I opened the door to the beat-up school room, stunned – and pleased – at what I’d heard. The best surprise? What, or rather who, was inside the room.
There was Luke, singing proudly as he played an old acoustic guitar, while Jake – a guy with bright purple hair who I’d met at lunch the day before – sat beside him, grinning as he played a wicked riff on his own guitar. Chris – a Korean boy whom I’d also met at lunch – sat on Luke’s opposite side, singing tunefully to the next verse. Finally, I spotted Asher, the curly-haired African-American boy who sat next to me and Luke in AP English, just to their left, beating on the side of a cajon. Asher winked at me as I leaned against the wall, waiting until they’d finished their song. Once they had, I clapped for them and walked closer.
I hadn’t heard anything like that from a few teenagers in a while. I looked over to Luke, and he smirked, strumming his guitar strings. A curious grin tugged at my mouth, and I was surprised when I heard the chorus of a blues song I couldn’t quite place.
“I thought you guys were rock ’n roll fans,” I teased, shaking a finger at them.
“Hey,” Chris shrugged his shoulders as he continued, “there’s nothing wrong with a good blues jam. But – back to the purpose of your presence.”
“Obviously, we’re pretty good,” Chris started off a little arrogantly, “but I think we’re missing one important thing – we need more vocals and think you’re the sound we need.”
They all nodded, and Jake piped up sheepishly, “I need a little help on the guitar riffs, too.”
So he’s the lead guitarist, I thought, reminding myself to come back to that later.
“So, you in?” Luke asked.
“I don't think it would be a problem,” I told them, “but we’ll have to see, okay? It’s only been a month or two since I moved here, so I think I’ll need a little time to adjust before I make a decision like that.”
Jake’s face fell, and so did Luke’s. Oops. “But, why can’t we play a little now?”
The atmosphere brightened up immediately. We had a blast playing together, to put it simply. These boys were pretty good.
“Holy crap,” Asher cried as soon as we’d finished, his black-brown eyes wide with excitement. I laughed, looking over at Luke, who was biting his lip as he got lost in thought.
“Positive you don’t wanna join now?” Luke asked, his bright eyes wide and pleading.
“Yeah – ya sure?” Chris added, his full, pale pink lips pulled back in a little pout.
Screw this, I thought, why the heck not?
“When do we practice?”
“We start right now!” Asher giggled – yeah, giggled, the guy had a funny little laugh – and I suddenly found myself being surrounded in a group hug. I groaned, but gave in, as suffocating as it was – not to mention Jake’s awful BO.
When the circle dispersed, I looked up at the guys, smirking. “You guys have definitely got something here, I’ll give ya that.”
We continued to sort out the details until it was all said and done; we were even going to hold a practice at Luke’s on Friday night. I couldn’t wait, to be honest – the guys were pretty great musicians already.
As I was sitting in my room on said Friday night, I realized with a jolt of panic that it was time for Jake to pick me up and take me to Luke’s place for our first – well, my first – band practice. Scrambling around my room, I grabbed a notebook and a couple of chord sheets and shoved them into my guitar case. I slung the electric guitar over my shoulder and grabbed the beat-up bass I owned, carrying it in my left hand down the stairwell and through the living room. My dad was sitting around, watching the news – not something I did regularly, to be honest.
I chuckled, my heart strangely light as I set out down the street corner to where Jake had agreed to pick me up after school. When he pulled up, I placed the guitars in the trunk before taking shotgun. Led Zeppelin was blaring from his speakers.
“Hey,” he half-shouted over the music, pale green eyes bright. The purple-haired boy’s energy was freaking contagious as we drove off singing. As I joined in with him, I couldn’t help thinking that I hadn’t had this much fun in months.
We reached Luke’s house quickly, and jumped out to grab the guitars. “Now be careful – these guys are like kids to me,” I explained. I watched as Jake opened the trunk, smirking. He grabbed my electric guitar and proceeded to pretend to bash it into the hood of his car.
“Jake!” I cried, but laughed with relief as he chuckled, apologizing. I sighed happily, grabbed the other guitar and headed up to the door, knocking a couple of times, shivering in the cold nighttime air. A short woman with clearly dyed blonde hair answered the door, smiling.
“Hello, Jake! You’re here for the practice?”
“Yeah – and she is too,” he told her, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. I nodded, smiling politely.
“Come on in, then,” she said, letting the two of us in quickly. “You must be Delilah,” she told me, her hand extended my way for a handshake.
I took it, saying, “Yes – you’re Luke’s mom, then?”
“Mm hmm – he’s told me a lot about ya,” she laughed, and the motioned us to head downstairs into their basement. I followed Jake downstairs, shutting the door behind me. Luke and Chris were already there.
“Hey, Delilah,” Luke said, looking up from his phone to grin at me. “Glad you could make it.”
Practice went really well – it was all the guys could talk about for the next day or so, telling me they’d had a blast. I had too; they were really fun to play with, so laid back, and frankly, a bunch of dorks. Asher even managed to show up after his shift at the local Seven-Eleven ended. We decided, however, to record our next cover at a later practice and post it on YouTube. Ash and Chris were thrilled to find out I had a channel that I was willing to share; they even complemented me on some of my ancient, embarrassing covers that they’d seen from when I was a freshmen… Anyway, we covered Weightless, by All Time Low, and to be honest, none of us were very sure how our viewers were going to react. I mean, my channel of cheesy, poor-quality acoustic guitar covers had turned into less-cheesy, well-filmed covers, but there were four more dorky guys playing music loudly along with me. We were much goofier now, too, which made it more fun to watch. I guess you could say I was learning to trust the guys – but it was nerve-wracking a majority of the time.
) “Look out!”
I barely heard the cry of the teenage boy literally sliding down the wet, icy sidewalk over the pop-punk blaring in my earbuds, but I moved out of the way mere seconds before he could take me downhill with him. He continued sliding, the back of his plum-colored jacket covered in slush and snow with his long legs stretched out in front of himself, catching on the ice. He flew face-first into the bushes at the bottom of the hill with a resounding ‘thud’. I laughed loudly; then I realized he wasn’t moving and headed downhill, pulling out my earbuds.
“Hey, are you alright?” I called to him, setting my backpack in the snow. When he let out a slur of curses in response, I sighed and moved the prickly branches aside before yanking him out of the foliage.
“Dang, that hurt,” he mumbled, flicking some blood away from a cut above his left eye. He rose shakily, brushing powder-white snow off of his jacket before jamming his fists into his pockets, keeping them warm. He didn’t bother to brush the white stuff from his dark brown hair or off the tops of his now-sopping jet-black hightops.
“How did you—“
“To make a long story short,” he said, cutting me off, “I got to the top of the hill and, due to the ice, I fell on my arse.”
“Nice,” I smirked, grinning at his simple story before picking my bag up again. “I’m Delilah,” I added after a moment, “and are you?”
“Ah, I’m Luke – Luke Reynolds. You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.
“Mhmm,” I said, beginning to walk uphill with him, “I just moved here just a few days ago.”
“I wondered – hadn’t seen anyone at school with hair like yours before,” he said, motioning to my long, blonde-and-red dip-dyed locks, now damp from the snow.
“Yeah,” I grinned, “I like to make a statement.”
“You had earbuds in when I yelled at you – what were you listening to?” Luke asked after a moment of silence.
“Oh, All Time Low – they’re a pop-punk band from Balti-“
“Really? They’re one of my favorites!” he told me, his amber-brown eyes flashing with excitement. “’For Baltimore’ is one of their best songs, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, yes! I really just like their ‘Put Up or Shut Up’ EP, though... “Lullabies” is incredible,” I gushed after a second thought.
“That’s true,” he said to me, still grinning.
We continued to chatter about our new-found commonality, almost as if we were old friends reuniting. When we reached the top of the hill, he took the fork to the left and paused when he noticed I wasn’t going the same way.
“This is where we go our separate ways, huh?” Luke said to me, his cheeks flushed from the cold.
“I guess so. It was nice to meet you – maybe I’ll see you around at school?” I added, careful to keep my voice even and not too hopeful. It wasn’t often I made new friends so quickly.
“Don’t worry, you will,” he smiled and then waved goodbye, trudging down the snowy sidewalk in his sopping hightops.
That was how I met Luke Reynolds himself – how this crazy endeavor of becoming a great musician even started. It was a weird experience, how he and the other boys found me. I posted covers of some songs on YouTube, and as it turns out, Asher – their drummer – stumbled upon them. They then sought me out, and told me to meet them during lunch in our school’s band room. It all really started in the band room, I suppose.
I was never going to regret going in there.
I opened the door to the beat-up school room, stunned – and pleased – at what I’d heard. The best surprise? What, or rather who, was inside the room.
There was Luke, singing proudly as he played an old acoustic guitar, while Jake – a guy with bright purple hair who I’d met at lunch the day before – sat beside him, grinning as he played a wicked riff on his own guitar. Chris – a Korean boy whom I’d also met at lunch – sat on Luke’s opposite side, singing tunefully to the next verse. Finally, I spotted Asher, the curly-haired African-American boy who sat next to me and Luke in AP English, just to their left, beating on the side of a cajon. Asher winked at me as I leaned against the wall, waiting until they’d finished their song. Once they had, I clapped for them and walked closer.
I hadn’t heard anything like that from a few teenagers in a while. I looked over to Luke, and he smirked, strumming his guitar strings. A curious grin tugged at my mouth, and I was surprised when I heard the chorus of a blues song I couldn’t quite place.
“I thought you guys were rock ’n roll fans,” I teased, shaking a finger at them.
“Hey,” Chris shrugged his shoulders as he continued, “there’s nothing wrong with a good blues jam. But – back to the purpose of your presence.”
“Obviously, we’re pretty good,” Chris started off a little arrogantly, “but I think we’re missing one important thing – we need more vocals and think you’re the sound we need.”
They all nodded, and Jake piped up sheepishly, “I need a little help on the guitar riffs, too.”
So he’s the lead guitarist, I thought, reminding myself to come back to that later.
“So, you in?” Luke asked.
“I don't think it would be a problem,” I told them, “but we’ll have to see, okay? It’s only been a month or two since I moved here, so I think I’ll need a little time to adjust before I make a decision like that.”
Jake’s face fell, and so did Luke’s. Oops. “But, why can’t we play a little now?”
The atmosphere brightened up immediately. We had a blast playing together, to put it simply. These boys were pretty good.
“Holy crap,” Asher cried as soon as we’d finished, his black-brown eyes wide with excitement. I laughed, looking over at Luke, who was biting his lip as he got lost in thought.
“Positive you don’t wanna join now?” Luke asked, his bright eyes wide and pleading.
“Yeah – ya sure?” Chris added, his full, pale pink lips pulled back in a little pout.
Screw this, I thought, why the heck not?
“When do we practice?”
“We start right now!” Asher giggled – yeah, giggled, the guy had a funny little laugh – and I suddenly found myself being surrounded in a group hug. I groaned, but gave in, as suffocating as it was – not to mention Jake’s awful BO.
When the circle dispersed, I looked up at the guys, smirking. “You guys have definitely got something here, I’ll give ya that.”
We continued to sort out the details until it was all said and done; we were even going to hold a practice at Luke’s on Friday night. I couldn’t wait, to be honest – the guys were pretty great musicians already.
As I was sitting in my room on said Friday night, I realized with a jolt of panic that it was time for Jake to pick me up and take me to Luke’s place for our first – well, my first – band practice. Scrambling around my room, I grabbed a notebook and a couple of chord sheets and shoved them into my guitar case. I slung the electric guitar over my shoulder and grabbed the beat-up bass I owned, carrying it in my left hand down the stairwell and through the living room. My dad was sitting around, watching the news – not something I did regularly, to be honest.
I chuckled, my heart strangely light as I set out down the street corner to where Jake had agreed to pick me up after school. When he pulled up, I placed the guitars in the trunk before taking shotgun. Led Zeppelin was blaring from his speakers.
“Hey,” he half-shouted over the music, pale green eyes bright. The purple-haired boy’s energy was freaking contagious as we drove off singing. As I joined in with him, I couldn’t help thinking that I hadn’t had this much fun in months.
We reached Luke’s house quickly, and jumped out to grab the guitars. “Now be careful – these guys are like kids to me,” I explained. I watched as Jake opened the trunk, smirking. He grabbed my electric guitar and proceeded to pretend to bash it into the hood of his car.
“Jake!” I cried, but laughed with relief as he chuckled, apologizing. I sighed happily, grabbed the other guitar and headed up to the door, knocking a couple of times, shivering in the cold nighttime air. A short woman with clearly dyed blonde hair answered the door, smiling.
“Hello, Jake! You’re here for the practice?”
“Yeah – and she is too,” he told her, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. I nodded, smiling politely.
“Come on in, then,” she said, letting the two of us in quickly. “You must be Delilah,” she told me, her hand extended my way for a handshake.
I took it, saying, “Yes – you’re Luke’s mom, then?”
“Mm hmm – he’s told me a lot about ya,” she laughed, and the motioned us to head downstairs into their basement. I followed Jake downstairs, shutting the door behind me. Luke and Chris were already there.
“Hey, Delilah,” Luke said, looking up from his phone to grin at me. “Glad you could make it.”
Practice went really well – it was all the guys could talk about for the next day or so, telling me they’d had a blast. I had too; they were really fun to play with, so laid back, and frankly, a bunch of dorks. Asher even managed to show up after his shift at the local Seven-Eleven ended. We decided, however, to record our next cover at a later practice and post it on YouTube. Ash and Chris were thrilled to find out I had a channel that I was willing to share; they even complemented me on some of my ancient, embarrassing covers that they’d seen from when I was a freshmen… Anyway, we covered Weightless, by All Time Low, and to be honest, none of us were very sure how our viewers were going to react. I mean, my channel of cheesy, poor-quality acoustic guitar covers had turned into less-cheesy, well-filmed covers, but there were four more dorky guys playing music loudly along with me. We were much goofier now, too, which made it more fun to watch. I guess you could say I was learning to trust the guys – but it was nerve-wracking a majority of the time.
