Sex, and rock 'n' roll

The sun is burning today. To hide from the heat I'm sitting in my favorite place, on the grass beneath one of the oak trees, planted around the courtyard. A Foo Fighters song is echoing in my head and I let my eyes and thoughts stray. After I eat my sandwich I usually withdraw in a secluded corner, so I don't have to listen to the crap that comes out of some people's mouths or speakers.

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong time, because I can't relate to “bitches” and “drive-bys” and I don't feel the urge to wear diamond earrings. The whole hip hop culture is like a foreign object to me. It just doesn't fit. Even listening to it is pure for me. Music is something you create with your own hands with the help of an instrument, not something you let a computer create. Real music just melts into your thoughts. At some point the lyrics and melody just become a feeling.

The second I sit down and look around I feel a little bit sorry for the other students. Divided in their groups they stand around. Interaction between those groups is a rarity and only happens out of purely egoistic motives. The central table is reserved for the basketball team and the cheerleaders. Think football, the only difference is, the attention is divided onto fewer players. The result is fewer jocks with bigger egos.

I don't really have friends at my school and I can count the people I have spoken more than two sentences with, on one hand. Since Ernie graduated last year I'm on my own in this hell. Since I was five years old, I was hanging out with Ernie. His real name is Harrison Colson, but his unique laugh has given him his nickname in first grade. Since the day we first met, we were inseparable and we've experienced a lot together. The love of music connected the two of us and today we both dream of being able to do music for a living. It's been over four years, since we decided to start our own band.

Two months ago we experienced a major setback. After months of tension we had to throw out our vocalist Jason. He has an amazing voice and great stage presence, but is also one of the biggest assholes I've ever met. One of Morris' friend had told him Jason had said that he would get a record deal really soon. The operative word is he. Now it's just Ernie, me and our drummer Morris. He is my age and goes to another school. He is very calm and a little bit of a geek, but he explodes when he sits behind his drum kit. Now we have to find a new vocalist as fast as possible, but so far no luck.

I'm taken by surprise when someone walks right past me. Mesmerized by the music, I spot her at the last second. Although I don't see her face I immediately recognize Samantha, Ernie's little sister. She is wearing a white formfitting t-shirt that shows of her perky breasts and a pair of green hot pants which perfectly hug her ass. She probably has gym class next. Her perfectly sculpted body and her pitch black hair have messed with many guy's heads. She is one of the it-girls at the school. My own fashion taste limits itself to jeans and shirts of my favorite bands.

Over the years I got to know her a little bit, because I was with Ernie all the time. They were very close when they were kids, but as soon puberty hit, their lifestyle drifted apart and today they can't stand each other. Seeing her at home and here at school, I quickly figured out that most of her behavior is an act. A year back when their dad died, both her and Ernie were a mess. In this horrible time I got to see the real Sam again, running around in a tracksuit with no make-up, showing a genuine smile from time to time. When I see her in school, I ask myself why someone this beautiful has to pretend to be someone else to be liked.

Lunch break is coming to an end and I get up to get back to class. Next to the entrance Sam is talking to Jennifer and some other girls. I walk only a few feet past her to throw something in the trash, but she pretends she doesn't know me although we've been in the same class for years. That is the common behavior with a lot of the people here. Ignore what you don't know, stay in your own little bubble and you'll always be the king of the world.

The time seems to crawl in history class. A dry topic combined with our history teacher Mr Kelm, who has to most monotone voice in the world, lets me actually drifts off to sleep twice. After that dreadful experience I decide to skip the rest of school and head out.