Hello, my friends! This is the first in a series of drabbles surrounding the revamped universe of my old band nerd OCs. The series is yet to be renamed, but it follows six friends as they journey through the joys of high school band together!
Below is the story of how Holly McIntire stumbled her way into the group. Angry with her parents for forcing her to move across the state, Holly is bitter about the prospect of starting at a new school, away from her old life. Luckily, it isn't long before she finds a new place to call home.
Holly stood stiffly on the steps leading into her new high school, one hand on the handle of her mellophone case, the other gripping the strap of her school bag with white knuckles. She peered through narrowed eyes at her surroundings: a group of students, presumably already friends, sitting around a bench, laughing about something. Pairs of students filing into the sliding doors of a too-large brick building. More students, carrying backpacks and instrument cases, binders and duffel bags. It was hard to tell which grade any given student was in, but regardless of age, it seemed everyone around her had a friend, or at least somebody to hang around.
She turned to glare at her mother, watching from the drop-off line to make sure Holly made it into the school with no trouble. How dare her mother bring her here, this place so far from her home? How dare she force her daughter to follow as her father changed jobs? To pick herself up and leave her entire life behind? Holly's mother waved jovially before pulling away, and Holly felt her anger simmer. She whipped her head around to begin marching into the godforsaken building, when suddenly something collided with her. She tripped ungracefully over the mellophone case in her hand, tumbling over the hard, bulky plastic and landing on her hands, legs pointing at an awkward, upward angle.
"Oh muh gu- mm sorry," came a muffled voice to her right. When she turned, she found a boy on the ground next to her, his face pressed almost comically into the bottom her shoe. Shaking off the brief moment of shock, she stood, brushed her scraped palms gently on her jeans, and turned again to shoot a glare at the idiot that must have knocked her over.
"Can't you pay attention to where you're going?" she sneered. The idiot in question remained in a heap on the ground, staring up with wide brown eyes through thick, dark bangs. His mouth fell gently open as he studied her, continuing to stare unabashedly.
Holly clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you going to say something?" she asked, irritated.
"I-I'm sorry; that was my fault!" the idiot's friend interjected. "I pushed him. He just kind of fell into you."
Holly softened, but only just. With a sigh, she offered the idiot a hand, and he took it gingerly. "Well, tell your friends to watch where they're pushing you," she spat, pulling him to a standing position. The boy just nodded, clearing his throat.
Gathering her now-scratched mellophone case from the ground, Holly glared at the boy, and then back at his friend, who was watching him curiously, with a smirk on his face. When no one said anything, Holly rocked back on her heels and straightened the bag on her shoulder.
"Well," she began slowly, "I'm going to go find my first class, now." She sauntered off toward the building without a goodbye, rubbing at her stinging palms and forcing back the tears from the pain, embarrassment, and general anxiety of the already too-long morning.
Before she could begin cursing herself for crying over something so small, she heard a desperate "I-I'm sorry!" from behind her. She threw a glance back over her shoulder, briefly taking in the poor idiot boy standing dejectedly, wearing a deep blush and staring at her with pleading eyes. Turning back to her mission, she raised a noncommittal hand to him and set off to find an adult to provide her with some kind of guidance, so that at least the entire day wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.
. .
. .
After a detour to the bathroom to run her hands under cool water, Holly managed to find the main office and collect her schedule and a small campus map (because apparently this giant high school had been built and rebuilt so many times, it was practically a maze). Just as she set out toward the freshman center, a bell rang through the halls, and by the poignant emptiness of the hallway, Holly guessed it was the tardy bell.
Too exhausted to curse at herself for it, Holly merely accepted her fate and set off to find the classroom. Blessedly, the freshman center was close by, and Holly found her class easily, steeling herself before slowly turning the handle and stepping inside.
As she slowly poked her head in the door, a rather young woman (presumably the teacher) at the head of the class paused mid-sentence and plainly regarded Holly, before breaking into a small smile and beckoning her into the classroom.
"I've just finished taking roll," the teacher explained. "Don't worry, you aren't too late! You must be…" she paused, looking down at a piece of paper on a teaching podium next to her, "Holly?"
Holly's shoulders sunk briefly, her anger with the day replaced by anxious shyness as she noticed the entire class was staring blankly at her.
"Y-yes, that's me," she stuttered, voice shaking.
The teacher smiled sympathetically. "Go ahead and have a seat in that desk over there; that will be your assigned seat." Holly followed the direction of her teacher's pointing finger to a desk near the back corner of the class. She breathed a sigh of relief. The back of the class tended to draw the least attention. If she had the option, the back row was always her first choice.
Adjusting the strap of her bag, Holly meandered down the row of desks and took her seat, placing her bag and instrument case on the ground while the teacher returned to her first-day spiel. As quietly as she could, Holly began gathering the supplies she figured she may need from her backpack, pulling out a binder with loose-leaf paper, before realizing she had not remembered to bring any writing utensils. She briefly panicked, quickly searching through her bag, before giving up in favor of not disrupting the class.
"Here," she heard someone whisper from her right side. Holly glanced up to see a mechanical pencil held out to her. She followed the line of the arm that offered the pencil, up a shoulder, a neck, a face, until she recognized a pair of gentle brown eyes, peeking through thick strands of dark brown hair. She felt her face warm, thanking whatever gods above that her skin was too dark to show a blush. "You were looking for a pencil, right?" the boy asked. "Take this one."
Holly blinked at the idiot next to her and felt her injured palms itch. She remembered the incident from just twenty minutes prior, and suddenly recalled her irritation that had gotten out of hand, resulting in a rather rude tone in handling the accident. She felt her blush deepen, and reprimanded herself for continuing to refer to the guy as an idiot. It wasn't his fault.
She realized she had been staring at him for at least a few seconds, and quickly whispered a stuttered "thank you" before taking the pencil from him. He smiled bashfully and quickly averted his eyes, concentrating on a piece of graffiti at the corner of his desk.
Holly stared at the pencil in her hands, appreciating the loan, but wishing that she could hide from her embarrassment, never seeing the guy's face again. She couldn't wait for this class to end, praying that at least by the time she would inevitably run into him again, he would have long forgotten the ordeal.
"… and so, just for these first two days of the year, you will be spending the entirety of the school day in your Homeroom class, which is, incidentally, where you are right now." Holly stilled, having finally tuned in to the teacher's speech, and immediately kicked herself for jinxing her luck.
She sat stiffly for the next hour, pointedly ignoring the pleading glances from the boy on her right. She knew that doing so would only make things feel more awkward, but she couldn't seem to find it in her to give the guy any attention. She was too focused on the need to run.
So, when the teacher allowed them free time to mingle before lunch (Oh God, that's still another 2 and a half hours away), Holly nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the gentle poke of a pencil tip on her right arm. She exhaled slowly, resolving that she may as well address the poor guy now, so that she could move on with her life. She needed to let this go; high school was going to be stressful enough. She didn't want or need extra drama.
She slowly turned her head toward the boy, noticing with a start that he looked as though he might erupt out of his chair like a bottle rocket, and before she could so much as tell him hello, the reaction began and he was off into space.
"Ohmygod Iamsosorry areyouokay Ididn'tmeantofallonyou IswearI'mgoingtokickHunter'sass he'salwaysdo-" the boy stammered, pausing suddenly when he noticed the shock overtaking Holly's face at his outburst. "I-I mean, uh… I'm sorry," he said, seeming to cave in on himself with embarrassment. Holly watched blankly, lost on how to perceive the moment. The boy's hand flew up behind his head and he grinned sheepishly, extending his other hand across the aisle. "Austin. I-I'm Austin. Just… by the way."
Holly's eyes darted over him, across his face, toward his hands. It was all rather endearing. She couldn't help but laugh. It started as a giggle, but before she knew it, the stress of the day was escaping her through labored huffs of air. She was clutching at her sides, laughing at this poor kid's outburst, at her frustration with the move, at the crippling awkwardness of the situation. She briefly glanced at him once more, his chocolate eyes bright with confusion and wonder, mouth in a small, questioning "o", and her laughter redoubled, drawing embarrassing snorts from her. The combined laughter and stress nearly had her reduced to tears before she saw Austin's extended hand droop, his face crumpling into a gentle pout. She wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, coughing to quell her laughter.
"I'm sorry, I c-couldn't help it," she giggled. "I'm Holly, it's nice to meet you." She took Austin's hand into both of hers, shaking it briefly before dropping it, hissing in pain from the scrapes on her palms.
"Augh, sorry," she apologized. "That still kind of hurts from my fall earlier."
Austin's face twisted in concern, and he grabbed one of her hands gently. As he examined the small scrapes on lightly pink skin, the gentle pout returned to his lip and Holly felt a confusing rush of affection for this boy she barely knew.
"Dang it, I'm sorry," Austin apologized for what felt like the twelfth time. He rubbed a thumb gently over a particularly large scrape, and Holly held back a wince. "I-I didn't know I hurt you."
"It's fine, don't worry about it!" Holly assured him, pulling her hand away, and waving it dismissively. "It'll heal fast. I'll be fine by the time I need to pick up this old thing again," she explained with a gentle kick to the mellophone case at her side.
"Are you in band?" Austin asked, eager to change the subject.
"Yeah! Well, no," Holly began, melancholic nostalgia creeping into her voice. "I mean, I was in band at my old junior high, but we just moved here, so I still need to audition before I can get into the band here."
Austin's eyes lit up. "That's awesome! I already auditioned, so I'm in the band here. I play the saxophone! It's not with me, though. I'm renting one from the school for marching season. I get to pick one out from the band hall later today," he explained excitedly. "What do you play?"
Holly grinned at his beaming smile. She was reminded warmly of her old friends, always excited to talk about band. "This is a mellophone I'm renting from a local music shop, for marching season, but I normally play French horn."
She went on to describe her experiences thus far with band, and her excitement and fears with the coming year. Austin asked her about her old school, and she eagerly described each of her friends, asking in return to hear about his.
They chatted jovially for the remaining two hours, surprised to find the other easy to talk to. Holly felt her earlier stresses continue to lift away the longer she talked with Austin, as though he was a ray of sunlight, evaporating the wet, heavy irritation clinging to her skin. They shared stories of their lives, their fears in beginning a new chapter of grade school and life, testing the waters with jokes and finding they shared a similar sense of humor.
Before long, a dismissal bell rang, interrupting a story of Holly's that had Austin in tears with laughter, and the teacher released the students for lunch. Holly watched as Austin's laugh subsided, her story trailing off to a sobered halt. A sense of dread overcame her; she would have to find a place to sit at lunch. It seemed that everyone around her had friends from junior high to cling to, but did she have the right to cling to this brand new friend? He was already packing up his things, probably eager to go and find his own friends. Would she annoy him by asking to sit with them at lunch?
She glowered at her bag, resolving that she could at least make her way to the band hall to find out if there were open lockers. It would be empty, probably. She could pull out her iPod and sketchbook, and occupy the hour there. She could always eat when she got home.
Holly heaved a sigh as she began to close her notebook, shoving it ungracefully into the bag at her feet. Just as she was about to hand Austin his pencil, she heard him speak. His words were lost in noise as the classroom door opened, letting in the sounds of students in the hall.
"Sorry, what was that?" she asked him.
He looked down bashfully, but spoke with a much clearer voice. "I asked, do you want to have lunch with me?" he repeated, glancing daringly up at her.
She stared back at him, shocked. Could he tell she felt preemptively lonely?
At the look on her face, Austin panicked. "I-I mean, if you want to. Only if you want to," he quickly assured her. "I'm sure you have somewhere to be, or maybe you want to make other friends, or maybe you already have a friend, or maybe you don't want to hang out with me, that's fine, I j-"
"Austin," Holly interrupted shortly. "It's fine. I'd love to sit with you," she assured him with a small smile. "Do you have friends in this lunch block that you're planning to sit with?"
He perked up at the question, eagerly jumping out of his seat and grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Y-yeah! Miraculously, we're all in the same lunch together," he told her. "Come on, we decided to all meet in the rotunda! We're stopping by the band hall first. You can drop off that mellophone."
He turned suddenly on his heel, walking down the row of seats to reach the other side so he could leave with Holly. As she stood, he picked up her mellophone.
"Come on, I'll carry this for you!" he told her, caught up in his own excitement.
She stared at him again. "You really don't have to do that," she insisted, confused.
He shrugged, brushing off her answer and bounding out of the room as he called, "Come on, let's go find them!"
Holly huffed a small sigh, smiling gently as she followed him out the door and down the hallway, toward the main rotunda.
. .
. .
After almost losing him in the crowd, Holly finally yelled at Austin to slow down so she could catch up to him. He apologetically fell into stride at her side, and the pair entered a contented silence.
As they weaved through the crowd of lost teenagers, they alternated stealing disbelieving glances at one another, giddy over the prospect of a new friendship that had so quickly laid a strong foundation. Each distracted in their own ecstatic thought, they nearly missed an important turn that would have put them on a straight shot to their destination. The pair nearly ended up lost; Holly became the savior when she pulled out the trusty campus map she had received that morning.
Giggling at their mistake, Holly and Austin eventually figured out where they were and proceeded to the large round area at the heart of the school, where Holly noticed 4 students around her age chatting in a circle, seated on the ground. A few of them had instruments with them. Her suspicion was confirmed when Austin quickened his pace, calling out to one of the two boys in the group, one that Holly recognized as the perpetrator that had pushed Austin into her earlier that morning.
Holly pushed down the distaste at seeing this boy again – what had Austin called him in that rant earlier? Hunter? – but the feeling was quickly replaced with nervous dread. Would these people like her? She wanted to keep Austin as a friend. They had hit it off so well; she wanted to make the same impression on his existing friends. If not, he might feel uncomfortable around her.
The four greeted Austin, eager to launch into accounts of their first few hours of high school, when a girl that looked strikingly similar to Austin noticed Holly as she approached. The girl glanced quickly – suggestively? – between Austin and Holly, before settling her glare on Austin. He cleared his throat nervously, returning the girl's glare.
"So, guys, this is my new friend, Holly," he began, emphasizing the word to the inquisitive girl. Holly's heart fluttered at the word "friend". She had already made a friend. "She's in my homeroom class, which is, I guess, our first period."
Holly's stomach churned with nerves as the group turned to look at her. "H-hi," she greeted them. "It's good to meet y'all! I've already heard a bit about you."
Was that too much? She hoped that wasn't too much.
One by one, each person in the group introduced themselves. So, they had known each other for a while. Holly tried not to be intimidated by that fact. She learned that each of them was in band, as well as she and Austin. As it turned out, the girl that looked like Austin was his twin sister, Patricia, a trombone player. She filed this fact away, as this meant they would be in the same section. A small girl with her hair in pigtails eagerly introduced herself as Jessica. Holly learned that she played the oboe, and would be marching the clarinet. The boy that had caused her morning accident introduced himself as Hunter, a trumpet player, and Holly tried not to think that it made perfect sense for a trumpet player to be so rambunctious. Finally, she met Seth, a (rather cute) percussionist that seemed to be dangling on the edge of the friend group, quietly yet happily clinging to the camaraderie. She guessed that she wasn't the only "new friend" to join. It put her anxious mind at ease.
With introductions completed, the 6 freshmen began their trek to the band hall at the other side of the school. Jessica practically ascended when she learned that Holly had not yet been to this particular room yet, and eagerly led the group, grabbing Holly's hand and bounding with excitement to share her favorite space with a new friend. Patricia laughed and sidled up beside the two, making simple chatter to occupy their journey, beginning with dramatic accounts of summer marching practices. Holly turned her head helplessly toward Austin, all the while being dragged forward, and noticed Hunter shove an elbow into Austin's ribcage. Austin grabbed at his side in protest, spitting a snarky comment through a large grin, and beckoning the two boys to follow him and catch up with the girls.
The six laughed and chatted all the way through the hall, earning a few glares from teachers that had prepared to start their next class, and questions from an intimidating security guard. Upon reaching the band hall (Holly had to stop and admire the huge room, lined with trophies and awards stacked on rows and rows of different sized lockers, underneath signs haphazardly painted and signed by section leaders and various band members), the group split briefly to fetch things from their respective lockers, while Holly stopped in to make quick chatter with a jovial band director and receive a locker number to store her mellophone.
They met again in the center of the hall, basking in a quiet moment of excitement to become part of something so large. Holly felt her chest warm at the familial feeling of it all: the cozy, inviting room, the prospect of spending so much time with her instrument section, the inclusiveness of standing there in a circle with five people she barely knew that had so quickly accepted her as one of their own.
Home, she realized. It felt like home, a concept she had been longing for since the day the moving truck had pulled out of the driveway of her old house. These people could be her new home, and she felt no doubt that they would accept her as such.
"Guys," Patricia said suddenly, interrupting the moment. "Did you know that we can like, eat lunch outside now?"
The group buzzed with excitement, and after a quick shared glance, they were off in search of a door to the patio outside the cafeteria.
Holly paused, watching them go, a small, almost nostalgic smile on her face.
Hunter turned around and regarded her carefully, wearing a worried expression. "You coming, Holl'?" he asked her.
Holly glanced over at Austin, smiling encouragingly at her from behind Hunter. Holly's smile grew, overtaking her expression, and she filled with an emotion she couldn't place.
"Of course," she answered, skipping to join the group at Austin's side. He bumped her gently with his shoulder and looked ahead, making conversation with the others, who were quick to include Holly. She figured, maybe, that this new school wasn't going to be so bad.
She figured, maybe, that this place, these people, were her new home.
Leave a review, if you're into that~
Let me know what you think of the series! I'll be slowly introducing the characters as their stories progress. I'll also be posting art of them on my DeviantArt page ( )! So far, the only one I've finished is Patricia, but I'm thinking either Jessica or one of the boys is going to come next!
Stay tuned~