Status: Pulling a Fall Out Boy sorry guys!
Disasterology
Chapter One
A loud unpleasant ‘brooomf’ noise sounded from the bell of Kellin’s trombone as something large and ball shaped connected with the side of his head. He knew immediately what it was; being that he was on the school’s soccer field during soccer practice, there weren’t really many options as to what it could be other than a soccer ball. Of course, anyone could have kicked it, it could have been an accident that it hit him out of all people, but he knew better.
His blue eyes narrowed as he looked down the field from the band bleachers, spotting the arrogant smirk that he had come to loathe so much. It confirmed what he had already known, about how the soccer ball had hit him in the head.
“You better watch yourself Fuentes! Or I’ll shove my tuning slide up your-” Kellin was cut off by something else hitting him in the back of the head. He turned around, looking towards the drumstick that now lay on the ground behind him. His gaze shifted up, landing on the tall, lanky figure of Mike Fuentes. He could see Mike giving him a warning glare, and he visibly stiffened.
“There will be no shoving of any parts of your instrument, or anything else, up my brother’s anything.” Kellin nodded, turning back to tuning his instrument. Kellin didn’t mess with Mike. No one messed with Mike. Mike was big and strong and scary. No one messed with Vic, his older brother, either; no one but Kellin anyway. In his defense though, Vic had started it and Kellin wasn’t the type of guy to sit around and take it when people tried to push him around.
By nature, the band kids didn’t get along with the jocks. For as long as either group could remember, there had been a back and forth routine of constant stupid pranks between the two. Kellin was a band kid, and Vic played soccer. They were admittedly a little more ambitious with their rivalry, and it had become something more personal over the three years it had carried on. Of course there was always some exception to any rule; in this case, it was Mike. He had managed to bridge the gap between being a band kid, and being ‘cool’. Kellin attributed this to two things; one being he was a percussionist and the other being his older brother was the captain of the soccer team (the only sport the school actually seemed to get anywhere with). Mike was cool though, as far as cool kids go; he didn’t mess with the band kids (Kellin got frequent warnings from the other boy but he had never actually done anything to him), and he was also the only band kid in what Kellin was sure was the history of Clairemont High to ever win homecoming king.
Kellin glared at Vic from where he stood across the field, adjusting his tuning slide before playing another note to determine if the instrument was in tune. He didn’t know why he even joined pep band in the first place. It wasn’t any kind of requirement and it caused him to be a lot closer to Vic than he would like, plus he had to sacrifice an hour of his time after school every day to be there when he could be doing things with his friends. But okay, that was a total lie because he knew exactly why he joined pep band. It was because anytime the soccer team got to get out of school early to go to a game he did too and that meant he got to miss his junior algebra II class (which he really hated to be honest). Still, sometimes he didn’t think it was worth the misery it put him through.
When he saw Mr. Mueller, the band director, come out onto the field he stopped playing, draining the spit that had built up inside the tubes of his instrument as he waited for the man to give them instruction, trying his best to forget about the captain of the soccer team and how much of an ass he was.
His blue eyes narrowed as he looked down the field from the band bleachers, spotting the arrogant smirk that he had come to loathe so much. It confirmed what he had already known, about how the soccer ball had hit him in the head.
“You better watch yourself Fuentes! Or I’ll shove my tuning slide up your-” Kellin was cut off by something else hitting him in the back of the head. He turned around, looking towards the drumstick that now lay on the ground behind him. His gaze shifted up, landing on the tall, lanky figure of Mike Fuentes. He could see Mike giving him a warning glare, and he visibly stiffened.
“There will be no shoving of any parts of your instrument, or anything else, up my brother’s anything.” Kellin nodded, turning back to tuning his instrument. Kellin didn’t mess with Mike. No one messed with Mike. Mike was big and strong and scary. No one messed with Vic, his older brother, either; no one but Kellin anyway. In his defense though, Vic had started it and Kellin wasn’t the type of guy to sit around and take it when people tried to push him around.
By nature, the band kids didn’t get along with the jocks. For as long as either group could remember, there had been a back and forth routine of constant stupid pranks between the two. Kellin was a band kid, and Vic played soccer. They were admittedly a little more ambitious with their rivalry, and it had become something more personal over the three years it had carried on. Of course there was always some exception to any rule; in this case, it was Mike. He had managed to bridge the gap between being a band kid, and being ‘cool’. Kellin attributed this to two things; one being he was a percussionist and the other being his older brother was the captain of the soccer team (the only sport the school actually seemed to get anywhere with). Mike was cool though, as far as cool kids go; he didn’t mess with the band kids (Kellin got frequent warnings from the other boy but he had never actually done anything to him), and he was also the only band kid in what Kellin was sure was the history of Clairemont High to ever win homecoming king.
Kellin glared at Vic from where he stood across the field, adjusting his tuning slide before playing another note to determine if the instrument was in tune. He didn’t know why he even joined pep band in the first place. It wasn’t any kind of requirement and it caused him to be a lot closer to Vic than he would like, plus he had to sacrifice an hour of his time after school every day to be there when he could be doing things with his friends. But okay, that was a total lie because he knew exactly why he joined pep band. It was because anytime the soccer team got to get out of school early to go to a game he did too and that meant he got to miss his junior algebra II class (which he really hated to be honest). Still, sometimes he didn’t think it was worth the misery it put him through.
When he saw Mr. Mueller, the band director, come out onto the field he stopped playing, draining the spit that had built up inside the tubes of his instrument as he waited for the man to give them instruction, trying his best to forget about the captain of the soccer team and how much of an ass he was.