Beautiful
Amazed
The night before, Blane had waited until Kacie had gone off to bed to get up.
Kacie was 22, which meant that she had a lovely collection of alcohol. Blane padded into the kitchen, not bothering to change out of her wet clothes, and headed for the liquor cabinet. She tried really hard not to, but she caught her reflection in the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. She stopped dead in her tracks.
You can’t do this. It’s too easy. The refrigerator seemed to say.
“You honestly can’t be THAT weak, can you?!?!” she demanded from her reflection.
No answer.
---
To Blane, Green Day was like a drug that fixed all her problems. Their music seemed to almost put everything back together, well, for her anyways; it helped her deal with the present time.
It all started back when she’d flipped on the radio in a fit of heartbreak, and flipped it right back off when she’d heard Green Day’s, Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
But then, she’d felt needy, like it was a medication that she was addicted to. So she flipped it back on and lay there as Billie Joe’s voice comforted her. After that, she’d gone out and bought every CD Green Day had ever made.
She sat there in reminiscence of the “good ol’ days” as she was flipping through websites on Kacie’s computer. She wasn’t sure if the music was working for her, which kind of scared her, and she thought she was going to have a panic attack, when she found it. The most awesome author she had ever read from.
Her stories were amazingly, AMAZINGLY, beautiful.
She started reading and she didn’t stop until her cousin dragged her away from the computer for school. She had left off reading about the girl singing the beautiful song written by the boy. She was thinking of how beautiful their love was.
She realized how much she’d thought of the word beautiful in the past few minutes.
---o---
Billie sat at the table with his band mates as they went over the percussionists they’d seen earlier in the week.
Billie still hadn’t been able to get his mind off the girl. How could anyone hold that much pain?
He felt a tug at his heart. He wished he could go to her, help her, bring her back and make her part of his family. Show her that she could truly be cared for.
So they had to pick three sections, and to Billie’s delight, the section he wanted was one of them.
As of result, they were sitting in offices talking to band directors all day. All three directors were snotty, ass kissers, and two of the assistant band directors were just the same.
The assistant director from Billie’s choice seemed cool, more down to earth, and he insisted they come back that afternoon to see them practice an ensemble piece the kids had been working on.
So, at 3:15 PM, Billie, Mike, and Tre were sitting in the back of the bleachers of a high school gymnasium, watching these kids set up for practice.
The enthusiasm they lacked in class was regained here. It took them all of 30 minutes to set up. And once they had, they exploded into music. Every person playing something. Most were playing warm-ups, or exercises.
The girl was playing something very fast, and with great ease, which was surprising because she was holding a pair of mallets in each hand. Billie's knew this kind of talent existed, he just didn’t realize it could exist in a high school student.
There was another girl who was playing with four mallets and was also behind a big keyboard, but she seemed very full of herself, like she didn’t need this practice time. She would mess around a little, talk some, and basically screw off the whole individual practice time.
Not at all like the other girl. The other girl had dedication.
She played her heart into that damn keyboard, and left nothing behind. Like, if she got it right, life would be okay.
The director stopped them.
“Run-through!” he ordered.
“Set!” was their reply and they snapped into position.
Billie was astonished at their discipline. Like the fucking military. He thought.
Then they played.
The music was amazing. It started fast and somewhat upbeat and powerful. Then it slowed down and the mood darkened, which sped up and empowered itself, and then it slowed once again and turned into a sweet ballad. To end it all, it went back to a fast powerful steady beat, ending suddenly with three short crashes.
Billie fought the urge to break into applause. These kids were great, and there was no question they were going on the album.
If they agree, of course. He thought.
---o---
She was back at Kacie’s now, at the computer, reading the story again as she thought of the word beautiful. She rolled it over in her mind as if she were trying to see it from different angle.
Then she thought of how that word would never describe her.
And she cried,
hot, uncontrollable tears.
She didn’t understand it, she couldn’t make herself think of a reason why, but she did.
Kacie was 22, which meant that she had a lovely collection of alcohol. Blane padded into the kitchen, not bothering to change out of her wet clothes, and headed for the liquor cabinet. She tried really hard not to, but she caught her reflection in the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. She stopped dead in her tracks.
You can’t do this. It’s too easy. The refrigerator seemed to say.
“You honestly can’t be THAT weak, can you?!?!” she demanded from her reflection.
No answer.
---
To Blane, Green Day was like a drug that fixed all her problems. Their music seemed to almost put everything back together, well, for her anyways; it helped her deal with the present time.
It all started back when she’d flipped on the radio in a fit of heartbreak, and flipped it right back off when she’d heard Green Day’s, Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
But then, she’d felt needy, like it was a medication that she was addicted to. So she flipped it back on and lay there as Billie Joe’s voice comforted her. After that, she’d gone out and bought every CD Green Day had ever made.
She sat there in reminiscence of the “good ol’ days” as she was flipping through websites on Kacie’s computer. She wasn’t sure if the music was working for her, which kind of scared her, and she thought she was going to have a panic attack, when she found it. The most awesome author she had ever read from.
Her stories were amazingly, AMAZINGLY, beautiful.
She started reading and she didn’t stop until her cousin dragged her away from the computer for school. She had left off reading about the girl singing the beautiful song written by the boy. She was thinking of how beautiful their love was.
She realized how much she’d thought of the word beautiful in the past few minutes.
---o---
Billie sat at the table with his band mates as they went over the percussionists they’d seen earlier in the week.
Billie still hadn’t been able to get his mind off the girl. How could anyone hold that much pain?
He felt a tug at his heart. He wished he could go to her, help her, bring her back and make her part of his family. Show her that she could truly be cared for.
So they had to pick three sections, and to Billie’s delight, the section he wanted was one of them.
As of result, they were sitting in offices talking to band directors all day. All three directors were snotty, ass kissers, and two of the assistant band directors were just the same.
The assistant director from Billie’s choice seemed cool, more down to earth, and he insisted they come back that afternoon to see them practice an ensemble piece the kids had been working on.
So, at 3:15 PM, Billie, Mike, and Tre were sitting in the back of the bleachers of a high school gymnasium, watching these kids set up for practice.
The enthusiasm they lacked in class was regained here. It took them all of 30 minutes to set up. And once they had, they exploded into music. Every person playing something. Most were playing warm-ups, or exercises.
The girl was playing something very fast, and with great ease, which was surprising because she was holding a pair of mallets in each hand. Billie's knew this kind of talent existed, he just didn’t realize it could exist in a high school student.
There was another girl who was playing with four mallets and was also behind a big keyboard, but she seemed very full of herself, like she didn’t need this practice time. She would mess around a little, talk some, and basically screw off the whole individual practice time.
Not at all like the other girl. The other girl had dedication.
She played her heart into that damn keyboard, and left nothing behind. Like, if she got it right, life would be okay.
The director stopped them.
“Run-through!” he ordered.
“Set!” was their reply and they snapped into position.
Billie was astonished at their discipline. Like the fucking military. He thought.
Then they played.
The music was amazing. It started fast and somewhat upbeat and powerful. Then it slowed down and the mood darkened, which sped up and empowered itself, and then it slowed once again and turned into a sweet ballad. To end it all, it went back to a fast powerful steady beat, ending suddenly with three short crashes.
Billie fought the urge to break into applause. These kids were great, and there was no question they were going on the album.
If they agree, of course. He thought.
---o---
She was back at Kacie’s now, at the computer, reading the story again as she thought of the word beautiful. She rolled it over in her mind as if she were trying to see it from different angle.
Then she thought of how that word would never describe her.
And she cried,
hot, uncontrollable tears.
She didn’t understand it, she couldn’t make herself think of a reason why, but she did.