Little Deaths in Musical Beds

Palo Verde High School, Summerlin, Nevada 2004:

The halls were full of students rushing, pushing, shoving, and generally just not giving a shit so that they could get out of the building and on to freedom. It was to be expected, who wanted to be in school anyway? Not a one of them. Besides, playing on the Vegas strip was much more fun, even if they weren't old enough to actually indulge in all the chaotic, blatant sin.
Two students were leaning against the lockers waiting for the crowd to disperse before they made their way out of the building. The boy threw his head back and laughed showing a perfect set of white teeth. He put his hand on the girls arm and shook his head.
"Why are we standing here again?" Aveline asked.
Brendon pushed her shoulder playfully, "Because dumbass, Brent got me that audition for that band remember?"
"Oh that's right," She pushed his shoulder with more force than he had hers and he stumbled backwards, "Are you nervous?"
He rubbed his shoulder, "God, I didn't hit you that hard," but his smile was enough to tell her he wasn't upset, "I guess a little."
She waved a hand at him, "You'll do fine."
He looked at her, his brown eyes big and uncertain, "You think so?"
She put her hands on his shoulders gently, "Yes B. You are amazing and you eat, sleep and breathe this shit," she shook him gently, "So, go in there and blow them the fuck away."
His eyes smiled right along with his lips, "I love you, you know that?"
She smirked, "Yeah, I know," She balled up her fist and knocked him on the jaw lightly, "I love you too."

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Brendon was officially a member of Pet Salamander. He couldn't contain his excitement and did a mix of running, back flips, and handstands all the way home from the rehearsal space. He collapsed onto the grass in his front yard and pulled his cell phone from his front pocket. He flipped it open and scrolled to Aveline's number. It began to ring.
Aveline and Brendon had met in kindergarten. They were fighting over the same crayon and the teacher made them stand in the corner together for ten minutes. It had felt like forever, but Aveline made it unbearable for a five-year-old boy. Unexpectedly, she reached out her hand and grabbed his. His eyes shot open, the brown in them swimming around for some kind of explanation. Then, all she said was "I'm sorry. You can have the crayon." He made a face at her and shook his hand free like he was offended that she had touched him at all, but they have been best friends ever since.
"Hey B." Her voice was soft and reserved.
He sat up, "Liri," He sang, "I made it!"
"I knew you would." Her voice went up a few octaves, "You gonna celebrate?"
"Pssh, like I would without you."
"What about Audrey? Haven't you told her?"
He smacked his forehead. He had forgotten all about her.
"Shit. No."
"You better go do that, she'll kill you."
He laughed, "Yeah." he paused thinking for a moment, then he spoke up, "Liri?" which is a nickname he had given her a long time ago, it meant "musical" and even though Aveline was not musically inclined she loved music as much as Brendon so he branded her Liri.
"Yes B?" Her voice was concerned.
"I'm kinda nerdy huh?"
"What? No." Aveline told him reassuringly.
"You don't have to be nice about it Lir. I kinda am, but you're not."
"What are you getting at Bren?"
He huffed and she knew if she could see him he'd be chewing on his bottom lip, "Can you help me...y'know, look better? Cooler?"
She laughed a little but not so much as to make him feel bad, "Sure B, whatever you want."
Aveline was beautiful. Sharp green eyes were always lined in black eye liner that curved up into a cat like form. Her shadow was smoky, dark, and her lips were either a dark red or bare. Her hair was bright cherry red, manic panic obviously, and most times she had a bandana in it like a headband or used bobby pins to pull it back. Then there was, well, she had a body. Brendon noticed. All. The. Time. He shrugged it off as his hormones though and remembered she was his best friend. She had a killer wardrobe and the thing was she made half of the stuff herself. Brendon wanted to look good, wanted to be cool. He knew she was capable of it, and he trusted her.
"So, tomorrow then?" He added.
"Tomorrow." She agreed.
Tomorrow he would emerge a new person, a more confident person, someone to be reckoned with, or at least he hoped.