Bonfire Boys

It was almost a minute before Harry Louie stopped kissing Lyla and pulled away with the most satisfied grin on his handsome face.

"What was that?" Lyla asked, breathing hard, and slightly dazed.

"I just wanted to know if you taste as good as you sing," he justified, "You have an amazing voice."

"I mean, why'd you feel my bum up?" Lyla demanded, clearly more interested that matter.

"I wasn't," Harry grinned, "I was putting something in your back pocket."

Lyla twisted around and began to reach for her pocket, but Harry stopped her.

"Save it for later," he said, winking

"Wh-" Lyla started

Suddenly, the doors marked "stage left" and "stage right" crashed open and the four remaining band members filed in. A loud blast of cheering bombarded into Lyla’s ears.

“All right! Hey fans, if any of you got splattered by parakeet poo, that’s good. Cuz’ they’re mine!!”

“Wow, I was right,” Harry said, mildly surprised.

“Hey there, Harry,” David smiled, “nice fall off the stage, big bro.”

“It was very slick,” Lucas said smoothly, tucking a strand of white hair behind his ear.

“You really made a scene there,” Jackson chuckled, thumping his hands on Harry’s shoulders, “great concert.”

Lyla stole a glance at Milo King, swaying behind his band mates and keeping quiet, drumsticks hanging by his side.

“Hey there little lady,” Jackson sang, “sorry that Mr. Stud here squashed you. I’ll try not to kick him off next time.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Harry grinned, “you never had the pleasure to kick me off stage.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lucas interuptted, addressing Lyla.

“That’s ‘cause you haven’t,” Harry snapped, “guys, this is Lyla.”

“Lucas Galbraith,” Lucas said, taking Lyla’s hand and giving it a hearty shake. His long white hair seemed to have a hint of silver when close up. And his eyes were a pale ice-cream blue, “very nice to meet you. It is an utmost pleasure.”

“Jackson Lyos,” the big short-haired blonde said, thumping a hand on Lyla’s shoulder and making her jump, “can’t wait to tease you.”

“David Archei,” the bruised Chinese smiled, patting Lyla’s head, “the animal guy. You know, with the parakeets.”

“Milo,” said a small, flat voice. Lyla adjusted herself to look behind Jackson. There stook Milo King, his blonde hair ruffled and his green eyes aimed to the floor. He looked up at Lyla and gave a half-hearted wave before trudging to the door marked “Milo”.

“What’s wrong with Milo?” Lyla asked as the door clicked shut, “is he always like this?”

“Pretty much,” David sighed, “it sucks to watch, poor thing.”

“Harry wanted to kick him out, but he’s the only one who can still sing alto,” Jackson continued, “We need to have a balance of tenor and alto.”

“But he’s 14,” Lyla pointed out, “shouldn’t he be singing tenor by now? I thought your voices broke at around 13?”

“Like I said, he’s the runt of the Bonfire Litter,” Harry said, “but like Jackson said, we need him.”

“I can see the headlines now,” Jackson smiled, “Bonfire Boy bails and batters big-hearted Beauty. Come’an get it!”

“Very alliterative,” Lucas complimented, with a nod of his head.

“But, Milo,” Lyla pressed, “hasn’t anyone tried to diagnose what’s been bothering him? He looks like there’s a lot on his mind.”

“No,” David said shrugging, “though I’d like to know what makes him frown all the time.”

“Probably your ugly face!” Jackson sang, lunging at David and knocking him on the floor.

“Or yours,” Lucas added mildly, while taking a step away from the two boys pushing each other across the room.

Lyla scrambled back onto the table and pressed herself against the wall, slightly alarmed at the sudden turn of events.

“They do that a lot,” Harry said, answering Lyla’s unanswered question, “just watch. It’s funny.”

Lyla forced herself to glance at them, deciding that it really didn’t look like play to her.

“Watch David,” Harry added.

“I’d rather not,” Lyla said, fidgeting, “I don’t want to watch him get battered mercilessly by Jackson. Jackson does weights, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, no,” Harry said, putting a thumb and a finger on either of Lyla’s cheeks and made her follow the action, “watch David carefully.”

Lyla shrugged Harry off her and watched David. I looked like any other cat-fight, but over time, she realised it really was a cat-fight.

David was prowling around the room like an animal. If someone put a tail on him and painted his face, Lyla would probably mistake him as a tiger.

“These two are quite a pair,” Lucas smiled, “they do it all the time, and none of them ever gets hurt. One’s an obsessive body-builder and the other is a wild animal.”

“Wow,” Lyla smiled, “muscle package and bio-man. What about you, Lucas?”

“I am a writer of plays, poetry, songs and other forms of literature,” Lucas said, “my mother has many of her plays in the theatres, and many poems known worldwide. The talent runs in the family, apparently.”

“You write songs?” Lyla smiled, “Do you write for the band?”

“He writes some,” Harry answered, “the slow and lovey ones. I write the rocky ones. And Milo… well, he wrote one.”

“Which one?” Lyla asked immediately.

“It’s called Lullaby of the Clovers,” Lucas said, “we’ve never realised it.”

“Why not?” Lyla asked, frowning.

“He wrote it when he was 13,” Lucas answered, “solely for his leisure. But we heard him play it one day. It was great. We wanted to put it on record, but there was one problem.”

“It was written too high a pitch,” Harry continued, “his voice was as high as yours when he wrote it. The harmonies, we can do, but it was obvious that when his voice broke, we would have to cut that song out.”

“So we tried to alter the key so it would suit the band’s voice range,” Lucas concluded, “but he won’t let us. I understand. I wouldn’t want anyone changing my publications.”

“Poor Milo,” Lyla sighed, “he seems to be under so much pressure.”

“Pressure from himself,” Harry spat, “can’t understand why he can’t just be happy and get along.”

“Maybe if you stopped calling him little runt, he’d be happier,” Lucas said.

“Me calling Milo a runt is like David calling Jackson Cinderella,” Harry snorted, “don’t see why Milo sulks about that”

“Did you just call me Cinderella?” Jackson thundered, crawling up to Harry, and jerked his leg so he went crashing onto the floor.

“My, my, they’re creating quite a racket,” Lucas murmured as Lyla smiled, watching Harry try to hold on to her.

“Noo!!” he cried, pretending to beg, pawing at the ground by Lyla’s feet as he was dragged away by his fellow band members, “save me! Don’t’ let them kill me! I’ll wait for you! SAVE ME!!”

Lyla began to giggle, and Lucas rolled his eyes and picked up a magazine to read.

“Come’ere, Playboy,” Jackson hollered, squabbling with Harry, who cried Lyla’s name over and over again.

Lyla just couldn’t resist anymore, and burst into laugher.

“Dear me,” Lucas mumbled, looking over the mag and running a bony hand through his white hair, “she seems to be fitting in quite well.”

As Lyla laughed and watched the three boys tumble around the floor, a slight movement caught her eye. She looked up and saw Milo standing at the doorway. He said something that Lyla couldn’t quite catch over the clamour of the fight.

“Guys, shut up!” Lyla yelled, baring a huge grin, as the boys stopped immediately, looking at her.

“Wow,” Lucas said to himself, “they actually listened to her.”

“Hi Milo,” Lyla said kindly, her face was still laughing at Harry, “Did you say something?”

The choir boy voice that answered was not as manly as the rest of the band, but what he said made Lyla chill over with shock.

“Don’t’ you have a friend waiting for you outside?” said Milo King quietly.