Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Fret ❯ Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

 

The morning after, Josh woke up in his sunlit room to a rapping on his front door.

“One second, I'll be right there,” he called out to the visitor. He cracked the door open, and immediately his friends poured into his living room.

“Hey guys, what's up?” Josh slurred. He kept squinting, trying to wake himself up enough to monitor the destruction of his house. He got a bottle of water, poured it over his head, and then followed the curiously familiar clang of metal on metal on wood.

His living room had been transformed into the band room. He blinked twice, not sure if he was fully awake.

“Um, why did we set up in here?” Josh asked them.

“Because the train car leaks and the temperature's too unstable for our instruments. Anyways, you're moving in with my brother until all your utilities are back on,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You are going to learn how to function independently yet with codependent elements.”

“Really. That's an interesting concept, but I'm still not quite sure what you mean by that last little `codependent' part,” said Josh, not liking the direction of this conversation.

“Well I think you know what that means,” she said in a threatening tone. “Come on, we're going to be late for school.”

“Mel, you do know that I will never, ever be mean to you ever again? And I'll never run away. Or do drugs, unless I get cancer. Anyways, what did I ever do to you?”

“You tortured me,” she stated, staring into his eyes with an insurmountable pain buried in her own.

She walked quickly to school with the twins on either side of her. He thought that he could barely hear her tinkling laugh.

After school, they met at his house. This time, Derek took the lead role.

“We are one of the best amateur bands in the state. I know it. However, we need to practice every single day for this to work, and we're going to skip a few homework assignments. The competition is intense. Let's get started then.”

Josh's guitar and vocals had transformed dramatically. Each note he played he channeled the feeling of him busking with Emmett. He realized finally after an hour of playing what had changed about him.

He had opened up to his friends. They had been practicing together for over four years sounding great, but tonight was different. Everything was perfect, precise, intense and the exact right emotion. No one missed his or her cue. Every mediocre song they had was improved until it was catchy, original, and from the heart. Chord progressions were warped, and key changes changed for the better.

Every day, for five hours a day, they would practice and every day they got impossibly better. The day before the competition came about; they could play every song on their repertoire with their eyes closed.

That night, they all stayed the night at Josh's house. Mel woke everyone up by blaring Spiderman II on Josh's excellent sound system and they all had dry cereal. Each of the boys drank two bottles of water, and Mel drank four all by herself. Mel was organizing and reorganizing the spice cabinet and Jackie was staring at a portrait of a woman (he claimed she was staring back). Derek paced back and forth and Josh roared at him for wearing the rug down as he stabbed the sofa repeatedly with a guitar pick.

They started their practice at 4:15, ending at 5:45. They stuffed Mel's brother's van with every inch of musical equipment they had. Jackie was the only one calm enough to drive. Josh hollered at Jackie when Jackie stopped at a red light, and then Mel forced two Ibuprofen down his throat. But as soon as the keys were out of the ignition, it was as if everyone's stress levels had stopped with the motor. They changed into all white formal wear with different neon trim for each person. Then, they strode onto the stage with a rare aura of confidence.

The audience held their breath as Melanie tapped out the first swanky rhythm. Derek got his cue properly, and then Josh. The two guitars followed shortly. The enrapturing performance struck the judges, and the points just kept on adding and adding.

The closing ceremony had the temperament of a nuclear bomb. The tension was so thick you could cut it. Finally, the judges stood.

“Entry #045, fifth place,” the first judge shouted.

“Entry #103, fourth place,” the second judge followed up

“Entry #029, third place with a prize of twenty dollars. Please come up #029,” the third judge announced. The band of six members was half-ecstatic, half-depressed looking.

“Entry #231, second place with a prize of one hundred dollars. Please come up,” the fourth judge said. All four members of this band were just depressed. “Cheer up #231, you just got twenty-five dollars each,” the second judge yelled at them as the crowd chuckled with anticipatory nervousness.

“And finally, the grand prize winner for five hundred dollars and an almost guaranteed record deal is Entry #300!”

No one walked up. Josh saw the rest of the room looking for anybody that showed a sign of being number #300. He could hear Melanie fiercely whispering to the twins.

“What's our number? You signed us up Jackie!”

“How am I supposed to remember? I think it ended in a zero?”

“Jackie, how are you supposed to forget! That could be us!”

“Derek was there too!”

“I don't remember either! ”

“Entry #300! Please come up!”

“Is it us?”

“It could be! But what if it's not? That would be embarrassing; as if we were trying to take credit for someone else's effort. Plus we could be banned from future competitions. But it could be us.”

“#300 to the stage now!” they called insistently.

Josh's eyes closed. He reviewed the images he had carefully recorded into his brain and then saw a key event. They had walked through the door, and… “Didn't they give you a yellow paper when we walked in Jackie?” Josh asked calmly.

“Yeah they did! Front right pocket, what does it say Jackie? Josh, you're amazing!” Melanie shrieked as she hastily kissed his cheek and he blushed, flustered.

Jackie fumbled around in his pocket, and finally pulled out a goldenrod slip of paper. “You are entry number #300. Do not loose/ forget this number,” he read aloud slowly. “What number are they calling again?”

“#300, this is you're last chance! You have ten seconds.”

“Oh my god that's us!” Mel screamed as she jumped up and down. In her excitement, she flung herself upon Josh and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He quickly hoisted her up on his shoulders, and she let out a surprised scream. Blushing, she towered over the crowd as they echoed with cheers, while Jackie and a few others whistled at them. The three boys met eyes and smirked, then walked up the ill-proportioned stairs. Josh carefully balanced up the steps, with Mel's arms around his neck and legs around his shoulders. At the top of the stage, the first judge held four elegant gold metals with a rainbowy sheen. Josh bent on one knee in front of her, and the judge tiptoed slightly as the medal fell gracefully around Mel's long neck. He stood up slowly and his own medal as placed on his neck. Together the group stood proudly and watched the swarming crowd beneath them, trembling with nervousness and excitement.

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