All that we see or seem is
But a dream within a dream.
~Edgar Allan Poe
"Star light, star bright
Please don’t let me die tonight
The evil within has taken possession
Their hollow black eyes
Shoes their decomposition
Star light, star bright
Will I make it home tonight?
Or will my soul join them
In this phase, unreal
Without the real promise of revenge." I sang in the empty auditorium, it was a song from one of the dreams. It was just the guys in my band and me setting up for the mini-concert at my new school somewhere in New York, thank god it’s close to New York City. The Ultimate Butler talked me into picking it. Damn him!
Josh, our lead guitarist, looks at me. "That is the creepiest song ever. Why are you always singing it?" He asked me.
I looked at him. "Just because after today I’m not in the band doesn’t mean I’ll tell you all my secrets." The whole band looked disappointed. "Sorry, boys. I love being mysterious. It’s a thing I got going on." Then I looked at Josh. "Or maybe, it’s the fact that all of you are going to miss me." It wasn’t a question. I know they will.
Josh’s younger brother, our drummer, in a deep mocking tone says, "Not at all. You were a bit of a cock-blocker. I mean everyone thought we were dating."
I raised an eye brow and stared at him. "Don’t you mean, you thought we were dating. Everyone here knows I don’t date younger guys or anyone from the band." The guys laughed at Josh’s brother. I shook my head.
Suddenly our bass player stops laughing. "Um, guys… That song, what if it means something. We all know she’s crazy, why not question this." Ever the smart one. "The song means something."
"That my old dear friends, is true. The song means-" I looked at them with wide eyes. "It means-" In the calmest tone I had in me, "I’m going to kill you all." Then in a frantic voice, "Then they’re going to take me back there. I can’t go back there." It was quite. One-two-three-four heartbeats later and they all started laughing, I shrugged my shoulders. "Okay boys." I said when their laughter died. "Are we done?"
"Awesome, ‘cause I heard there’s a cafeteria with better food then what we get at our school cafeteria- I mean at your cafeteria, just around the corner. "I jumped of the stage and quickly walked to the doors leading out of the auditorium. I ran into the hall, the guys far behind me.
I opened the cafeteria double doors; I quickly searched the room with my eyes, clearly not paying attention to the people in the room. When I located the lunch line, I took off running, God, you’d think I haven’t eaten in weeks, with my metabolism I might as well haven’t. I ran smack into something. As I looked up, from the floor where I fell on my butt, I realized I ran into a guy. As my eyes continued to look up, I noticed the muscular build of a guy that played enough sports for two people. He wore a bright white polo, and black jeans. Soon enough, as my eyes made their way towards his face, I was gazing into the most beautiful liquid silver eyes. I didn’t even see his whole face. How does one describe eyes so beautiful? Whoa there Shakespeare, calm yourself.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. The "silver-eyed-guy" Stretched out his hand. I, who doesn’t believe in chivalry, ignored his hand and got up on my own. "Look, I’m so sorry. Would you believe me, if I said that I don’t usually run into people?"
I didn’t look up at his face, strangely afraid of what would happen if I did, so I stared at chest instead. It wasn’t like I was looking down, I’m just looking straight. He’s a full head taller than me.
"No, I wouldn’t believe you and it’s alright. No harm, no foul." His voice was deep and a tad bit husky with a clear Irish accent.
"Normally my ego would be hurt by that assumption but you accent is totally distracting me. Later." I walked past him and never looked in his direction. Curse myself for being disturbingly honest. I heard who I think was him, chuckle darkly behind me. I refuse to look back at him, and made my way to the lunch line at a slower pace then before. Then I started singing in a low voice, practically half whispering, "Star light, star bright, please don’t…"
What I didn’t notice till now, was the fact that everyone was quiet the moment he spoke to me. Weird.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Towards the end of our lunch, for a strange reason I was completely pissed at the "silver-eyed-guy". How I can be mad at a person I don’t know? Or with an accent as hot as the one he has? I do not know. The band members took one look at me and knew I was angry. They all quickly looked away. Smart boys, I thought.
I got up from my seat and was instantly called to the doors of the cafeteria. "Miss Ryder!" I looked at the doors to see the principal at one of the doors, staring at me. I sighed and walked as slow as possible, towards him. I really don’t want to talk to you. Your thoughts are so… it’s disgusting and hard to block out. The principal was around 56 years old, five feet seven inches with a toupee- which he thinks looks good, it doesn’t. He has a mustache that makes you instantly think he’s a pervert and brown beady eyes. Principal Pervert.
I sadly made it towards him sooner than I hoped I would. "Hi." I slacked my shoulders so they were hunched.
He looked excited-creepy excited, like he locks girls in his basement and rapes them for fun, creepy. Gross. What is wrong with my imagination? And why is it so damn graphic? Again, I repeat, gross.
"I can’t wait to listen to your band play. If you don’t mind me asking…" He made me wait more than three seconds before saying, "Are there any curse words in them? I realize the students listen to-" I drowned him out. I kind of just want to snatch your toupee from your head and make a run for it. I wonder… That would be super funny. Especially if you run after me… "So do your songs have curse words?"
I snapped back to reality at the question. I shrugged, "maybe?"
I figured this conversation was over and started to walk out the cafeteria doors, then he grabbed my arm. Principal Pervert was getting touchy.
I pulled my arm back and glared at him. My eyes were burning, I knew they’d change if I didn’t calm down. I clenched my jaw, grinding out the words, "Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me." I looked in his eyes for the full effect, noting that he was frightened.
His eyes were practically popping out of their sockets, it was almost- and I mean almost- comical. The hand that grabbed my arm, was shaking and his face was sheer white, like a ghost. He looked scared- no, terrified. We still haven’t broke eye contact, and his fear went from terrified, to and unusual amount of fear. That was all in the matter of two seconds.
"I-I’m sorry." He apologized and quickly walked away. It looked more like speed walking that quickly bordered on sprinting.
I could feel eyes on me, watching, staring at me. I turned around to face them. The eyes belonged to every freaking person in the damned cafeteria. I raised in eyebrow secretly challenging them all to do something. A blond haired girl looked at me and then whispered in her friends ear, "what a freak."
I chuckled and she stared at me, her blue eyes wide. I smiled, well smirked would be more accurate. She aimed her face downwards and I shrugged, the calmly walked out the cafeteria.
Now I have a decision to make:
1.Apologize to Principal Pervert. Never happening. Absolutely never, ever, ever.
2.Hope for the Apocalypse to suddenly take place today, right now. You can only hope for so much in life.
3.Walk out of the school and never come back. Malcolm will have my ass for that. Worth it? Maybe.
4.Practice my vocals in the auditorium. More likely to happen with this list of options.
I went with choice four. It was the most logical choice. I walked in the auditorium without noting if anyone was here or not. I went to the piano and sat on the piano bench. I took a deep breath, laid my hands on the keys and began to play the melody of Christina Perri’s "the lonely".
"Two a.m, where do I begin. Crying off my face again…"
As I played the song, I sang the words along the piano. I closed my eyes as all these emotions enveloped around me. The feeling of being lonely, I’m almost to familiar with, washed over me.
"And the loneliness will stay with me, And hold me till I fall asleep.."
Suddenly, as I finished the song, I heard clapping. I turned my head in the direction of the clapping and found the "silver-eyed-guy" standing there. I shook my head slowly and got up from the bench. I so wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. Lair.
"That wasn’t bad. Great actually." Obviously he had other ideas.
I stared blankly at him. His eyes glinted with amusement. My eyes which were brown today, were probably bordering maroon again. Dear God, why can’t he and his voice leave me alone? I thought. The real question is, does it really bother you? A voice, a very mean and questioning voice, that I usually don’t ignore but now am, said.
"I didn’t realize you were a part of the band playing today." His accent was laid on thick when he said ‘you’.
"I didn’t realize you needed to know." I replied with a thin smile. "It’s not something you mention to someone you run into."
He was in the aisle now, the amusement in his eyes still there. I really want to slap him.
"Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?" Oh, I don’t know, probably because I don’t like you.
I like your eyes, your accent, your voice, your- whoa there. Chill.
I shrugged. He nodded his head. " Can you leave. I have to finish setting up." Lie. "And again, your accent is distracting." Not so much of a lie.
He smirked. "Is it my accent or my voice?"
Both. "Accent. Never heard it before." Lie. It’s both his voice and his accent. His voice is a rich, resonant baritone- with that accent. Did I mention his accent is distracting?
"Really. Well you might hear it more at this school then, love." I glared at him. Did he just call me Love? What? He started walking towards the door. "I guess I’ll see you on stage then." When he was at the door he turned around. "Oh and my name is Damon." And he was gone.
He had to give a name to a face and voice. Just leaving would have been fine. But God, he’s hot. Wait. What? "Stop thinking that." I mumbled to myself.
Now to survive the rest of the day and week. Let the horrors of high school begin.