Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Fret ❯ Chapter 1

Chapter One

 

The string of Moshay picks hanging from his neck clattered slightly against one another as he cautiously placed each foot directly in front of the other. Someone's power walking grandma and the track team at his school shot him questioning glances as they passed him by. It might have been his black shirt that his teachers had told him to turn inside out that demanded a second look, or the battered Fender he clutched lovingly in his right hand as he balanced perilously on the curb. More likely, it was his formidable look of unprecedented exactness.

Josh saw the passersby stare, and etched them into his memory. His steely eyes scanned the street for something. He constantly observed everything happening around him with eyes that matched the dusky gray blue autumn skies above him, constantly threatening to loose control over the thunder and lightning they held. Never closing his eyes for a second, he carefully watched every detail because he might miss something amazing. He filled notebooks with patterns he had noticed, and described insignificant details that meant everything, trying to learn from the world as much as possible. He firmly believed that you could learn anything from everything. So he tracked, labeled, and counted everything he could possibly manage.

He reached the weatherworn bus stop after ten minutes and 621 steps. People waiting there watched him fearfully, as if he was going to transmit his `eclecticness' if he waited for the bus with them. Instead, he looked both ways before crossing the street and went into a rusty, forsaken train car. Gently setting his backpack down, he slipped the amp out of his bag and took another worn Moshay pick from his bag. He sat down with his ax straddled across his lap. His fingers first danced out a classic blues lick, and then bounced through a standard bubble gum progression. Then he started in on tunes from his mother's youth that she used to listen to on the stereo when she was happy.

In the middle of a song lifted from Hall & Oates, a crackling of leaves alerted him of the approach of another. The newcomer wore a backpack with a pair of drumsticks sticking out the back, giving her the appearance of having antennae. Purposefully making her way to the opposite side of the train car, she unpacked a wooden crate and pulled out a metal frame, some rags, and drums. As she assembled the drum kit with and air of decisiveness, the glimmering metallic rainbow sides played neon patterns onto Josh and the flimsy oxidized walls. He paused a second as she dragged the wooden crate with a deafening scraping noise over to her kit to use as a stool. She tapped out a beat on her drumsticks, and he silently nodded to her. She started a beat and after eight counts, he joined in.

Cough cough.

They stopped playing and frowned at the twins that now stood in the threshold. Somehow, the exactly identical twins freckle had managed to sneak up on the two playing without any warning. Each had a guitar case slumped casually over there backs, and the only difference between the two was the shape and size of the cases.

“Sounds good. Josh, you need a new guitar. Sorry we're late,” remarked the twin with a smaller case.

“Thanks,” replied the girl, who was still slightly frowning from the interruption. “Did you enter us for the competition Jackie?”

“Of course I did! Why do you think we're late?”

She grimaced. “Well, not to say anything about your reliability but you're always late.”

The other twin laughed. Jackie grinned wickedly at him.

“Shut up Derek. You're always late with me.” He bantered good-naturedly.

Josh stood up and clapped twice very loudly. Everyone swiveled their heads and faced him.

“The competition Jackie just entered us in is in a month. Don't you think we should be practicing? Or do you not want the prize money?” he rebuked sternly.

Jackie sighed deeply and furrowed his dark brow, then took on a gentlemanly air. “Why must you always be so responsible? Very well, we must practice. But what are the exact chances a little garage band from Ventura is gonna win?” he mockingly enunciated, then flourished a bow into the air.

All four grinned and then focused on the set task. Jackie and Derek slid their amps out of their backpacks as Josh had done, plugged them in, and started to jam. Every note Josh sang and each solo each performed caused them to fall deeper into a mad frenzy. Songs after songs slid fluidly from their fingers into the air, vibrating there until the train car started to turn vivid scarlet from the bloody light coming from the sun.

Each player wound down and each player was slightly out of breath from the adrenaline rush. Methodically they packed up their gear, filing out of the boxcar.

“Practice again after school guys?” Mel queried.

“Nah,” Josh replied. “I have to work.”

“'Well then we'll see you two at school tomorrow!” Jackie saluted and together walked of with Derek. Mel left seconds later and waved to Josh as she crossed the threshold into the real world. Josh walked out of the train and immediately hopped onto the curb, once again starting to count his steps home.

The first stars were just coming out, and he watched them gradually peek out from underneath the moonless velvety black blanket. After another 875 steps, he strayed from his curb and wandered up to a doorstep. Digging deep into his back pocket, he tried to discern his house key from the half dozen guitar picks that companioned it. He grasped the cool metal between his calloused fingers and then inserted the key in the keyhole. Two clicks and then he otherwise entered his house silently into his house. He opened the first door in the hallway and saw nothing but a messily made bed and dusty empty shelves. Closing the door again, he entered his blindingly white room and hung his backpack and guitar on their designated hooks. With nothing else to do, he wandered aimlessly to his backyard with the vague idea of sky watching.

The rough cement had lingering warmth from the sun that had shone meagerly. He rolled onto his back and then relaxed eagle spread, tilting his jaw upwards toward the sky. There were stars glowing across the entire sky now, and an occasional falling star. He silently wondered to himself why stars never rose and always fell. With this closing thought, his eyes started to flutter and his head fell slowly to the side.