Losing Control

The worst way to wake up is either your phone ringing at full volume in your ear, or of course, to have cold water be dumped onto your head. In my unfortunate case, both happened.

"Wake up, cunt."

I lazily lifted my head from my soggy pillow to meet the eyes of my "best friend". I was beginning to debate that title.

"Phil, how did you get into my house?" I mumbled sleepily.

The goofy raven-haired boy shot me a lopsided smile before jabbing his finger toward my window.
With a groan, memories of the previous school year's rude awakenings flooded back to me.

"Oh god. It's the first day of school, I totally forgot." I yawned. "You're not going to start last year's cycle again."
I snatched my persistent phone from beneath my pillow.

I glared at the caller ID and dropped the cheap flip phone onto the floor.
No need to be affiliated with him anymore.

"Where's Pops?" Phil asked innocently.

I sighed and stood up from my now-sopping matress and turned away from him to sift through the contents of my dresser for an outfit.

"Gone," I answered briskly, not mentioning that he'd been the one calling only seconds ago.

He probably only needed help with... work. If you could even call it that.

"Wear those jeans with the holes in the knees," Phil suggested. "And that Pantera shirt, the one-"

"My mum got me. Got it," I muttered.

Phil smiled thinly and nodded.
"Alright. I'll go make myself busy," he said.
He went over to the window and reached out, his upper body reappearing seconds later with his book bag in hand.

I watched him leave my room, then I shut the door behind him, though it was really quite useless since the doorknob was missing.

I sighed and slipped into my jeans, then pulled my shirt over my head.
I grabbed the Pantera shirt off the edge of my bed, slipping into it as I left my room, then took the stairs down two at a time.
When I reached the main floor I grabbed my iPod off its dock, plugged in my headphones, and pressed play.

As soon as I heard Phil honking, I knew we were going to be late for the first day of school... As it had been for the past three years.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the few dollars lying on the kitchen table and shoved them in my pocket before running out of my house.

I climbed into Phil's car and buckled my seatbelt.

"Wanna get McDonald's?" he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

I shrugged. "Sure, not like we'll be on time anyway."

Phil grinned and headed in the opposite direction of the school, toward the McD's that we always ended up eating at.

"Plug your iPod in," he demanded after a good ten seconds.

I obliged easily and replaced my headphones with the conversion cord.
"Song?" I asked, already scrolling through my thousands of songs, knowing which song he'd be saying.

"Hysteria," he replied quickly. I grinned at how predictable he was, but then again, I'd been his best friend since grade school.

I selected the Muse song, and as soon as it started playing, Phil was drumming along on the steering wheel.

I chuckled and mumbled along with the words until we got to the drive thru.

We ended up leaving the parking lot with ten hash browns and an egg Mcmuffin, and two coffees.
We started eating straight away, and the only sound was our constant chomping and Muse playing loudly in the background.

That was why I liked Phil. He didn't mind being late for school. He didn't mind driving me around and talking about anything. He just liked me for whatever reason, and he stuck around with me when no one else did. He'd been there for me since middle school, when we were both going through our pimply, greasy puberty stages, when we had no idea what to do with ourselves besides chase down hot girls and play football.
Of course, everything turns to shit at some point. But we'd stood together. That's what best friends are for.

"Can we just ditch," I whined as we pulled up to the prison that we're forced to endure for seven hours almost every day.

"Its the first day of school, Austin, we should at least go today," Phil mumbled.

I chuckled because he was right, and we got out of the car, some of the wrappers from our food landing on the ground.

I stretched a bit, then hauled my book bag onto my shoulder and headed inside, Phil by my side.

We walked down the empty hallways which were already littered with various papers, even though it was barely halfway through first period.
Freshmen.
I left Phil at his locker in the junior wing, leaving to go to the senior wing where mine was.

I found my locker easily and opened it, stuffing my bag inside.
I pulled out my notebook and a pen, then shut the door and put my lock on it.
With a sigh, I jogged over to Phil's locker and leaned against the one next to his.

"What's first period?" I asked.
He shut his locker and pulled out his schedule.

"Trig," he replied, stuffing the paper into his pocket. "And you're lucky we have the same schedule, save for last period," he continued sternly, his blue eyes boring into mine.
I smiled and ruffled his hair, causing the black strands to get stuck standing up in awkward positions.
He pouted and swatted my hands away.
"You're such a twat," he growled as we headed toward trigonometry.

I laughed and shook my head.
"I know."

We walked into class, and the whole room went silent.

"Mr. Carlile, Mr. Lester- you're late," The teacher- Mrs. Bradley- snarled at us.
I'd had her the previous year, too. Juniors and seniors with Bradley, freshmeat and sophmores with Mr. Geane. I almost missed Mr. Gee. He was easygoing, whereas Mrs. B was a bitch- not to mention I'd gotten on her bad side last year. And she could hold a grudge.
It was safe to say she hated me.

"Mmhmm," I mumbled, searching the room for Phil and Tino. My gaze landed on them at the last table in the room.

I walked over to my friends and slid into one of the vacant desks to Tino's left. Phil sat to the left of me and looked around lazily.

I pulled out my phone, ignoring Mrs. Bradley's droning about how the year was going to be.
I glanced at the one missed call and one text- both from my dad.

Dad: Are you sure?

I growled under my breath and typed my reply.
Yes. I'll never be like you.

I shut my phone off and put it in my pocket.

Don't get me wrong- I love my dad. But sometimes he can be a bit of a... devil.

***

"Meet me by the car," Phil instructed as I turned away from his locker.

"Alright..." I huffed, rolling my eyes. "See ya."

Phil's light footsteps receded and I went in the opposite direction of his destination (the art room).

I'd somehow made it through the day, and it was finally last period. Kids had their conversations around me as I walked silently.

I didn't necessarily like the other students. Or teachers. Or anyone, for that matter. They, for the most part, left my lot and I alone. But they'd bullied me for years before it stopped. I didn't really take pride in the way I'd handled getting everyone off my back, but the past was the past.
I had four good friends- Tino Arteaga, Phil Lester, Aaron Pauley, and Phil Manansala. We'd basically all met freshman year, except Phil Lester. Phil had been my best friend since I could remember, except he was in the grade below me, so I'd made new friends as a freshman- Phil, Aaron and Tino.

Music was the only class I had without Phil. He took art. At least I had other Phil, Aaron and Tino.

Our music program at my high school was different than any I'd heard of. Basically, everyone got in groups and that was your 'band'. If you didn't have any partners, you were a solo artist. We had to assign positions, then act like a real band together. It was pretty cool in my opinion.

I got to class a few minutes before the bell, so I snagged a chair and sat down. A couple kids were milling about, but no one worth talking to. They were freshmen from the looks of it.
I sighed and pulled my phone out, then started playing pac man to kill a minute or two.

"Alright class," The familiar, ever-eccentric voice of Mr. Ryder boomed over everyone else's.

I glanced up and paused my game at the sight of the tall strange guy.
His hair was just as it had always been- a curly mop on top of his head. His green eyes that could stare into your soul.
Yup. That was Mr. Ryder.

"Let's start with names, shall we?" he exclaimed, perching himself on the edge of his desk. "Bring it in, I don't bite."
He gestured for us to get closer. I stayed put, but the freshmen and sophmores moved in. I spotted Phil, Tino and Aaron on the other side of the room, and waved lazily.

"Alright, Penelope Alexander?" Mr. Ryder began reading off names.

I sat back and stared at the ceiling, awaiting my name while daydreaming about nothing in particular. When Mr. Ryder called my name, I raised my hand, then let it drop back into my lap.

The door opening loudly shook me from my thoughts and I looked up to find a short, frazzled red-head standing in the doorway.
"I-I'm sorry I'm late..." he said nervously, his eyes darting around all of our faces.

"Oh, that's alright. Freshman usually have a hard time finding their classes on the first day," Mr. Ryder said with an understanding smile. "Okay, what's your name?" he asked, glancing down at his list of names.

"Um, I'm a sophmore," the guy mumbled, biting his lower lip. "I'm new to this school. Uh, and Alan."

I yawned then shut my eyes, tuning everything out again. It was always the same with newbies- late to class for the first week of school, then they get into routine.

"Alright..." I heard Mr. Ryder say through the veil of my daze. "Ashby. Okay, that's everyone."
Alan Ashby. What a forgettable name. I thought vaguely.
"Okay, those of you who aren't new to this, go ahead. Newbies come over here so I can explain the rules."

Mr. Ryder's voice was drowned out abruptly by the crowd- or mob, rather- of students shoving each other to get into groups, or just sit there because they're solo.
I dragged my chair over to my lot, then passed them to sign us up.
I grabbed the open notebook off of Mr. Ryder's desk and scribbled the band information that hadn't changed in the past four years:
Type- band
Name- Waging War
Members- Tino, Austin, Phil, Aaron

With that done, I retreated to my chair and plopped down.

"Hey, you talked to Phil about getting us a gig, yeah?" Tino asked, looking at me.

I yawned and leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms.
"Duh. He said that he was working on it. Dunno if that's a good or bad thing, but at least he's trying," I responded.

"Cool," Aaron said, giving me a grin.

I grinned back, then looked around at everyone.

Everyone basically had a group. There were only a few people sitting by themselves.
The red-headed kid was standing next to Mr. Ryder, staring at his beat up converse.

I leaned forward so I was hunched over and rested my elbows on my knees, deciding to eavesdrop.

"Can you sing?" Mr. Ryder asked.

"No," the kid said, seemingly nervous.

What was his name? It started with an 'A', I was pretty sure of that. Alex? Andy?

"Did you see a group you'd be interested in joining?" Mr. Ryder pressed, raising a bushy eyebrow at the guy.

Redhead looked up, his eyes taking in the other students.
Big brown eyes.
"Nope," he said after a minute, shrugging his bony shoulders. "And I'm not so sure they'd like me joining them either, mate."

I chuckled lightly at that. On second thought, maybe the kid wasn't so bad... For a lanky ginger.

"What're you laughing about?" Phil asked, breaking me from my trance.

I ripped my eyes from the boy and turned to my friends, who were staring at me.

"What?" I growled, crossing my arms, shooting each of my friends an accusing glare.

"Uh, never mind," Phil muttered, turning back to his guitar he'd retrieved at some point when I wasn't paying attention.

Tino looked away, but Aaron just stared at me for a little bit before his glance flickered to the redhead.
I looked over as well to see him walking over to us.

He stopped a few feet away from me and stood there for a minute, just looking at the four of us intently.

"Yes?" Aaron asked, causing Phil and Tino to look up from the song they were writing and focus on what was happening.

"I'm Alan," redhead stated, looking me in the eyes.

Butterflies exploded in my stomach and I frowned. Why was I feeling butterflies?

"What do you want?" I asked a little too harshly.

Alan bit his lip and looked down to his shoes.
"I want to join your band... group thing," he blurted, looking up to catch our reactions.

"No," I found myself saying, even though I did want to know more about the kid. Even though I did want to see what he could play.
I still said no.

"You haven't even heard me play," Alan retorted, raising an eyebrow at me.

I opened my mouth to say no again, or maybe yell at him, but before I could Aaron asked, "what do you play?"

I scowled at Aaron and he just shrugged at my expression.

"Guitar," Alan replied proudly.

"We have a guitarist," I shot back with a smirk curling my lips involuntarily. "We don't need you."

"We could always use a rhythm. Let's see what he's got," Phil piped up. I turned to him and growled through my teeth. He shrugged in response.

"Great! I'll go get my guitar!" Alan exclaimed, overexcited like a child. I watched him scamper over to one of the instrument lockers and open it, producing a guitar case.

"Really?" I hissed at Phil and Aaron. They both just looked at me like they knew something I didn't and I sighed, looking away from them.

I have the oddest friends, I swear, I don't even know why I hang around with them sometimes.

Alan dragged a chair over and set it in front of me, dropping into it, with his guitar case clutched to his chest.

I looked up from the floor, irritated, and huffed another sigh.
Why, out of anyone here, did he have to sit in front of me?

"Go on, then," I muttered, gesturing to the guitar in Alan's death grip. "Play us something."

Suddenly, I saw his whole demeanor change from ecstatic to nervous. His smile dropped to a frown and his fingers shook a bit as he set the case down in front of him and opened it, revealing an electric blue guitar that looked like it costed thousands.

"Holy shit, dude," Phil commented. "Nice."

Alan smiled fondly and picked up the instrument, slipping the strap over his shoulder.
He strummed it a few times, tuning it in about a minute, before nibbling on his lip and looking up at me.

"What should I play?" he asked quietly.

"I don't care," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He bit his lip which, I had to admit, was pretty cute before delving into an elaborate tune that had me transfixed from the first note.

He was good. Insanely good. Even I could see that, and I was clueless when it came to guitars. Whatever he was playing was fast and intricate. Loud and swift. It was definitely a shock coming from someone that looked like Alan- not to judge a book by its cover, but it was how I felt.
The trance that song put me in was enough to make me realise how much this kid really loved playing. I could see it in his face. The tip of his tongue was poking from between his lips, and his eyes were closed tightly, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He didn't falter, didn't stumble, he just knew that he was good, and let the music flow from his fingertips.

When he was finished, his eyes remained closed. I just stared at him, sensing the passion radiating from him. I admired it, him, though I would probably never admit it. To anyone. Ever.
After a minute, his eyes slowly opened, and he looked at Tino, Phil, Aaron and I with a mixture of emotions.
"So?" He asked, clutching the neck of his guitar tightly.

"That was amazing," Aaron said with a smile. Phil nodded and smiled with Aaron at the readhead.

"You're in," Tino exclaimed.

I looked at Tino with a grimace. "No he's not," I shot at him. "I didn't even get a say!"

Tino crossed his arms and scowled. "And why would it be that you don't want him? He'd be a great asset to us, and he's amazing."

I clenched my fists and frowned at the floor. Why was it such a big deal to me, anyway? He hadn't done anything to me.
Change. I didn't like change. I'd spent three years with my friends in this band, and we were suddenly getting a new member that we didn't exactly need.
I hated change.
"Fine," I muttered, standing up. "See you all tomorrow, I guess."

The bell rang and I left the room, impressed that I'd calculated the exact second the bell would ring so that I could leave when it did.

I easily got through the hallways, even though class was letting out and there was a mad rush. It helped that I was a good foot taller than most of the kids at the school. That, and I was intimidating as hell when I wanted to be.

I grabbed my bag from my locker and stuffed my books into it, then headed out to the parking lot to find Phil.

It took me about three minutes of maneuvering through parked cars to find Phil's, and when I did I saw his hand flick out the window to flip me off.
I grinned and started jogging over when someone called my name.

I turned around, only to find Alan running over to me. I briefly debated hopping into Phil's impala before Alan had the chance to catch up, but found myself merely standing there in the middle of the parking lot awaiting the small red haired boy.

He slowed down as he got closer, then stopped completely a few feet away.
"Look, your friends told me how much your band means to you," Alan admitted, fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "And I know I kind of screwed everything up by forcing you to let me join. But I promise that I'll work super hard to make you glad that you allowed me to be a part of this, okay?" He smiled slightly and looked up at me. "And, uh, if it helps, I don't have to be an official member. It can just be for school, that way you don't have to tolerate me all the time. I mean, I know you kind of hate me for some reason. And your mates told me that the band isn't just a school thing."

I stared at Alan for awhile with narrowed eyes, trying to figure him out. He first joins my band against my will, then he comes up to me and suddenly cares? Doubtful. Nobody really cares.
"I don't care. Talk to Tino about whatever, talk to my other friends, but don't talk to me," I muttered, turning my back to him.

"Sorry. I didn't catch your name? Your friends told me, and you might have, but I've forgotten," he called from behind me.

I sighed and kept walking. "It's better that way," I responded under my breath, not sure if he heard me.
The sooner this year ended, the sooner I could get the fuck away from this town and everyone in it.

I tugged my hood over my head and trudged to Phil's car, then let myself in and sagged into the seat.

"What's wrong?" Phil asked, starting the car. He glanced over at me and I sighed again.

"Nothing," I murmured, attempting an assuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Phil."

He giggled a bit as we started toward my house. "It's kind of my job, to worry about you."

I chuckled and reached over to ruffle his hair. He pouted and demanded that I plug in my iPod, which I did, and soon enough we were rocking out to Muse in the car, as usual.

After Uprising ended, Phil turned the music down.
I looked at him and he was staring at the road.

"What is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at me seriously for about three seconds before his face split into a grin.
"I got you a gig!" He yelled.

I looked at him for a long time, just thinking about how I couldn't have a better friend.
My band had its first gig? Phil got us a gig?

I grinned and started jumping in my seat.
"You did?" I repeated over and over, not sure if he was bullshitting me or not.

"Yes, yes, yes," he replied just as excitedly, reaching over to grab my hand in his.

I squeezed his hand and made the most girly squeal I could have imagined, but I didn't care.
My band had a gig.
That was the best thing that could happen to me, honestly.

"I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," I told my best friend, clapping my hands.
"Jesus, Phil. You're the best friend ever. Really."

He grinned back and turned the radio off, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn and look at me properly.
"I know. And by the way, I'm staying at yours a few days. Let's get this party started."
He got out of the car and I rolled my eyes, following suit.