Painting Flowers

I made my way into the music department, gazing around at all the diagrams that decorated the walls, and the pictures of brass instruments making the dingy classroom a little less bare. My first day was nearly over, and I hadn't gotten beaten up. I hadn't made any friends, either, but at least I wasn't going home black and blue like I had been in middle school.

"Scream to be heard, like you needed any more attention, throw the bottle, break the door, and disappear..."

I heard the faint echo of singing from a few walls away, and I stopped to listen as a voice carried its way through the corridors to my ears. I looked through the classrooms, slamming the doors open to nothing, until I discovered where the sounds where coming from.

"S- sorry," I stuttered as I looked in the room, spotting a boy sitting in the far corner holding an acoustic guitar. He was looking up at me through a curtain of dark brown hair, and I instantly recognised him as the boy in front of me in Math.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "What do you need?"

"I was, uh, looking for my, um... guitar tabs. I left them here," I lied awkwardly, pretending to search for some sheet music.

I saw the boy's face drain of colour. "O- oh. You mean this?" He held up a page of chords and fingering and I nodded, walking over and reaching out to grab for it, but he snatched it away.

He bit his lip in embarrassment. "I'm... um... u- using it to write my song on... sorry, I can give it to you if you wa-"

"It's okay," I interrupted. "I'll just ask the teacher for another sheet."

Damn, he had nice eyes.

What?

"Oh, alright," the boy said, blinking at me. "I feel kinda bad... I didn't even notice this was yours..."

"It doesn't matter," I said, sitting down on the seat next to him and glancing at the bit of paper, but he snatched it out of my sight immediately.

"What's up with you?" I asked him, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion and annoyance.

The boy gulped, "um, I wr- wrote a song on this, and I don't really..."

"Can I see it?" I questioned, tilting my head to try and read the upside down scribbles. "It was my sheet music, after all."

My guilt trip seemed to have worked, as the boy ducked his head and handed over the sheet. I had to squint my eyes to read his handwriting.

"Make it a sweet, sweet goodbye," I muttered. "It could be the last time and it's not right. 'Don't let yourself get in over your head,' he said. Alone and far from home we'll find you."

"It's not that good," the boy squeaked nervously, wringing his hands beside me as ignored him and read on.

"Dead, like a candle you burnt out, spill the wax over the spaces left in place of angry words," I breathed in amazement; this wasn't like anything I'd seen before. "Scream to be heard, like you needed anymore attention, throw the bottle, break the door, and disappear. Sing me to sleep."

The words ended abruptly with a line across the rest of the page.

"This is amazing," I said, looking up at him. The boy was biting his lip and had his hand hovering over the paper. "Honestly," I handed it back, to his obvious relief.

"I don't know," he said, scratching his neck. "Like, it's alright..."

"Can you play it for me?" I asked, and the boy immediately shook his head.

"I don't like playing for people I don't know," he said, shrugging and gripping his guitar tighter.

"Well, hi there, I'm Jack Barakat," I said sarcastically, extending a hand, which the boy shook cautiously. "There, you know me now, so can you play it for me?"

He gave a smirk, sighed, and began to strum. He sang along to all the words, staring intently at the piece of paper for the words, but continued on even after the lyrics had stopped on the page. He made a five minute song out of it, his voice flooding into my ears and pumping through my veins. He sounded amazing; I was almost surprised he wasn't famous already.

"Wow," I said once he'd finished. "That was... wow."

"What did you think?" he asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs.

"That was amazing," I breathed, shaking my head in disbelief. "You should seriously go on one of those talent show things."

"Nah, I'm more into the idea of being in a band," the boy shrugged casually, and I raised my eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Yeah? What bands do you like?"

"Uh, you know, Blink, Green Day, New Found Glory, The Offspring, stuff like that..." the boy trailed off, and my eyes widened.

"No way," I grinned. "I went to see Blink and Green Day last year."

"Me too!" the boy smiled. "At the pop disaster tour!"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Sorry, uh, I didn't catch your name?"

"Oh, uh, I'm Alex. Alex Gaskarth," he said. "I don't have many friends since I just switched from private school to public school, and everyone already has their own cliques of friends, y'know..."

"Yeah, I just don't have friends because nobody likes me," I laughed, and Alex smirked.

"I like you," he said, and I looked up at him. "Even if you are ridiculously nosy."

"I like you, too," I said. "Even though you're extremely protective and introverted."

Alex grinned, "I'm just like that to strangers. I don't like people looking through my things if they're not my friend."

"So I'm your friend?" I asked, standing up, as the bell rang from outside the classroom.

"Sure," he said, zipping up his guitar and hoisting it on his back and putting the lyrics to his song in his pocket.

"Yes, my first friend!" I cheered sarcastically, pumping my fists in the air and dancing.

"Probably your only friend, by the looks of it," Alex grinned, raising a thick eyebrow at me, as I danced towards the door of the classroom.

"You're just jealous of me," I said. "You can't move like I can. You're not one of the cool kids."

"I'm terribly sorry," Alex said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as we turned into the busy corridor. "I aspire to be one of the cool kids one day, Jack. It's my biggest dream in life."

"Perhaps I can teach you," I said. "Although it won't be easy; it takes hours of painful training to get to this standard of a cool kid."

"What's your ranking? 'Lead dork'?" Alex smirked. "Aw man, you've already taken my place."

"Maybe we can share Lead Dork," I shrugged. "You can be Lead Dorkess, if you want. It's more fitting for you."

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Alex laughed, and I joined in with him.

"Hey, uh, Jack, what's your number?" Alex asked as we arrived outside. I grabbed a pen from my jeans pocket and quickly etched my house number onto the back of his hand.

"Thanks! I'll call you!" Alex said as he headed in the other direction to get on another bus. I was left with a small smirk on my face as I sat down by myself on the yellow bus, my head happy that I finally had a friend.