Beautiful
The Hit
Only minutes later, Kacie was standing on the fenced-in basketball court.
Blane’s crumpled figure was still and silent, there on her knees. All Kacie could do was stand there and watch her. She didn't, herself, even bother to move until Blane collapsed on the ground, finally giving in.
Now was when Blane needed her. Before, she just needed to be left alone.
---o---
Kacie laid her soaked body on the couch.
Blane was petite to begin with, but she looked even smaller now. Her clothes were drenched, and her hair was plastered to her face.
Kacie forced herself to resist the urge to wake her up and give her dry clothes, because she knew that Blane wouldn’t want to bother with it. Instead, she just draped a heavy blanket over her fragile body and turned up the heat in the room.
---o---
Billie sat, staring at the monitor. He and his band were scouting high school percussion sections for their next album, via hidden cameras planted by directors.
Tre had this crazy idea to add a huge percussion ensemble into one or two of their songs. Despite the craziness of it, Billie unusually liked the idea. He even surprised himself. They decided to go with high school students instead of professional freformes as a
Somehow, he knew that he wanted this group.
He didn’t know why, he just liked them. Maybe it was the way they acted in constant rebellion against their director. He loved it. No matter how many times he yelled at him, they did what they wanted.
Or maybe it was the girl.
She stood behind a keyboard, holding the mallets in her hand, but not playing much of anything. She seemed as though she would collapse at any minute. She had a sorrow look in her eyes that stabbed into him deeply. She looked… hurt, betrayed by someone she deeply cared for. They had tore into her and ripped her apart and left her with nothing but pain.
Something was compelling and somewhat captivating about this girl, and he wanted to find out why.
---
Billie didn’t know why he chose Oklahoma. Maybe it was because his mother was from here, but something else was leading him to this state, he just didn’t know what, yet.
Billie shook his head violently, coming out of his trance and turning his attention back to the monitor. He thought of the other bands, or, well, sections. They all seemed stuck up and full of themselves. But this one, had a right to be. First in state, third in the country! And somehow, they couldn’t be less enthusiastic.
The girl, dropped her mallets onto the keyboard, finally having enough of the mundane run-throughs of the music. She found a chair and collapsed into it.
That, up-tight-Mr. Right director, went back there, while he was in the middle of directing, despite all the other little fruitcakes sitting down back there, and pulled the chair out from under her.
She stood there, and glared at him for a moment, Then she did something brilliant.
She snatched the chair back from him, sat on it, and propped her feet up on the keyboard. She had a look of daring in her eyes. Like she was asking him to retaliate. So he did.
He yanked the chair back, and she toppled to the floor. The whole band erupted in laughter. Including the director.
She stood up.
The whole room went quiet. Respect.
She had it, he didn't.
Her eyes flashed with anger, she didn't care at this point, it was all over. She punched him in the face with such a force that it propelled him back against the wall, said a simple, “fuck you”, and she was gone.
The assistant just stood there and gawked; part proud of her, part worried, and part (very, VERY) amused. Billie could tell that everyone had waited a while for someone to finally do something; and there it was.
Blane’s crumpled figure was still and silent, there on her knees. All Kacie could do was stand there and watch her. She didn't, herself, even bother to move until Blane collapsed on the ground, finally giving in.
Now was when Blane needed her. Before, she just needed to be left alone.
---o---
Kacie laid her soaked body on the couch.
Blane was petite to begin with, but she looked even smaller now. Her clothes were drenched, and her hair was plastered to her face.
Kacie forced herself to resist the urge to wake her up and give her dry clothes, because she knew that Blane wouldn’t want to bother with it. Instead, she just draped a heavy blanket over her fragile body and turned up the heat in the room.
---o---
Billie sat, staring at the monitor. He and his band were scouting high school percussion sections for their next album, via hidden cameras planted by directors.
Tre had this crazy idea to add a huge percussion ensemble into one or two of their songs. Despite the craziness of it, Billie unusually liked the idea. He even surprised himself. They decided to go with high school students instead of professional freformes as a
Somehow, he knew that he wanted this group.
He didn’t know why, he just liked them. Maybe it was the way they acted in constant rebellion against their director. He loved it. No matter how many times he yelled at him, they did what they wanted.
Or maybe it was the girl.
She stood behind a keyboard, holding the mallets in her hand, but not playing much of anything. She seemed as though she would collapse at any minute. She had a sorrow look in her eyes that stabbed into him deeply. She looked… hurt, betrayed by someone she deeply cared for. They had tore into her and ripped her apart and left her with nothing but pain.
Something was compelling and somewhat captivating about this girl, and he wanted to find out why.
---
Billie didn’t know why he chose Oklahoma. Maybe it was because his mother was from here, but something else was leading him to this state, he just didn’t know what, yet.
Billie shook his head violently, coming out of his trance and turning his attention back to the monitor. He thought of the other bands, or, well, sections. They all seemed stuck up and full of themselves. But this one, had a right to be. First in state, third in the country! And somehow, they couldn’t be less enthusiastic.
The girl, dropped her mallets onto the keyboard, finally having enough of the mundane run-throughs of the music. She found a chair and collapsed into it.
That, up-tight-Mr. Right director, went back there, while he was in the middle of directing, despite all the other little fruitcakes sitting down back there, and pulled the chair out from under her.
She stood there, and glared at him for a moment, Then she did something brilliant.
She snatched the chair back from him, sat on it, and propped her feet up on the keyboard. She had a look of daring in her eyes. Like she was asking him to retaliate. So he did.
He yanked the chair back, and she toppled to the floor. The whole band erupted in laughter. Including the director.
She stood up.
The whole room went quiet. Respect.
She had it, he didn't.
Her eyes flashed with anger, she didn't care at this point, it was all over. She punched him in the face with such a force that it propelled him back against the wall, said a simple, “fuck you”, and she was gone.
The assistant just stood there and gawked; part proud of her, part worried, and part (very, VERY) amused. Billie could tell that everyone had waited a while for someone to finally do something; and there it was.