The Band

This is a story about a middle school girl who joins a band. It is also based off a dream I once had. And by dream I mean sleeping dreams.

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2. Band?

A few hours after school gets out, I find myself knocking on a wooden door of a white, two-story house about two blocks from mine. In my left hand, is my guitar, in its case. I wait for a few minutes.

   "Hello?" A middle aged woman of about thirty-five answers the door. Reilly's mom.

   "Hi! Is Reilly here?" I ask, then add, "He wanted to show me some songs on the guitar."

   She stands there for a few minutes, then she seems to recognize me. "Oh! You're Rachel's daughter. Abigail."

   I laugh. "Yep! That's me!"

   Mrs. Vance opens the door more and gestures me in. She leads me down a hall. "Yes, Reilly is here. He's out in the garage with the rest of his band."

   "Band?" I didn't know he was in a band. His mom leads me to a door, where she stops.

   "He never told you?" She asks as if I should know.

   I shrug. "He's never had any reason to tell me. He just doesn't seem like the type to be in a band."

   Mrs. Vance throws her head back, laughing. "No. No, he doesn't. Does he? It surprised me when his buddies and him came together and formed it! Well, here's the garage."

   I smile at her. Then I say to her, "Thank you Mrs. Vance."

   She waves a hand at me. "Just call me Kathy."

   "Thank you, Kathy," she nods and walks off.

   I stand there, waiting to get up enough courage to open the door. But, before I can open it, it opens, and I look up, way up, into the face of Ian Pilsudski, our school's 'star' basketball player, holding drumsticks. And not chicken, or food, drumsticks. Like the ones you use to play drums.

   "See! I told you I heard two female voices!" He says to some other boys.

   "I only see one girl. Not two, Stupid." Another boy, standing by a keyboard, says. Jeremy Casey. The star of the football team.

   Reilly, with his electric guitar in hand, steps forward and glares at them, and two others: Scott Fisher, holding a bass, and Ryan Sutton, with only a mic. Reilly says, "Leave her alone. I invited her to come."

   All the other boys glance at each other, then they all start laughing, like really hard. I glare aat them. By now, I have set my guitar down, so I fold my arms. It works. They stop laughing.

   Scott clears his throat and glances at Reilly, "Why exactly did you invite her? She isn't part of the band."

   Before I can say anything, Reilly puts a hand up, in my direction, to silence me. Then he addresses his band, "Because, one, she needs help with some songs, and I thought we might be able to help. Second--"

   "You wanted to find some alone time with her?" Ryan interrupts, smirking. I blush, even though I know it isn't true.

   Reilly glares at him. "No. Because we don't have an acoustic guitar player, and, maybe--" he glances at me "--she might want to join."

  

  

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