Being in the Band's Odd Like That

Marching band is Kadence's life. The only downfall? Rocky Billings. But when Kadence breaks up with her abusive boyfriend, she finds herself oddly attracted (?!) to Rocky. Why? Well, because being in the band's odd like that.

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“I know Michel, I promised I would--” I sobbed in to my cell phone, propped up only by the school building wall. “I can’t just...” I bit my lip trying not to cry. Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful and tears began rolling down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, okay! I thought since the weather’s been so shitty lately we wouldn’t have practice.”
 

I had a sudden urge to hang up on him, my boyfriend of almost four months. I know I couldn’t though--I’d pay for it later. I shivered as the thought rolled through my mind...
 

And yet I’d continued to stay with him.
 

“Look, I’ll come over right after! I swear. I gotta--I gotta go--I...Michel, I can’t be to your house if I’m late for practice. You know how Mr. Quins is--he’ll make me run. Yes. Four. I love you too. Goodbye.”
I snapped my phone shut, upset. God, it wasn’t my fault the weather finally decided to clear up after I told Michel I’d be able to go home with him. And since the weather’s good, band is unavoidable. Actually, I’m not in band: I’m in the Colorguard, which sucks twice as hard. I hate it.
 

Sliding in to a sitting position, I pulled up my knees and hit my forehead against them. I threw my phone and heard it hit a tree. Then, out of nowhere, my tears came at full blast. It was Colorguard. It was Michel. It was grades. It was everything. Oh, and dammit here’s the drummers. I looked up as all eight of them passed, marching in step, pissing me off. Already practicing before they sat foot on the field.
 

“Phone!” I heard someone yell. Standing, I was up just in time to see trombone-idiot Rocky Billings pick up my phone. God, that’s just what I needed: the world’s stupidest idiot touching my stuff. Now I’d have to sanitize it because it probably caught one of Rocky’s STDs.
 

“Phone!” he repeated as I went over to him. I kept my head bowed, but held out my hand. “Hanner?” he asked, curiously. “This yours?”
 

“Gimme, Billings,” I growled, not in the mood for his shit. That was us though: talked rudely to one another and called each other by last names. I won’t go in to details about our past, but he pretended to hate my guts and I gladly returned the favor.
 

“Hmmm.” He looked down at my tiny flip phone and began reading: ‘Call ended, Michel.’ God, please tell me you finally broke up with that fuck.”
 

I snatched my phone away, ready to strike him. “Just because you hate me does not give you the right to call out my boyfriend!”
 

“Oh, this has nothing to do with you; I would have said that to any other girl dating him.” He frowned.

“Have you been crying Hanner?”
 

I shoved the phone in my pocket. “No, you’re just on acid.”
 

I could see the fire and...hurt? Huh. In his eyes as I turned away. “I haven’t done acid Hanner and you know it.”
 

I shrugged, trying to be tough chick again. “I don’t hang out with you so how should I know?”
 

“You know, you’re a bitch. C’mon Aaron.” He brushed passed me, his little friend, Aaron dragging behind.
 

“And you’re a dickhead!” I retorted. Only this time, I got no satisfaction from it.

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