Disclaimer: Alice, and other member of the Cullen clan (Bella included) are property of Stephanie Myer. All other characters as well as the story belong to myself.
Author's Note:
I haven't written any fanfiction in a long time and to be honest I'm not sure if what I want to write fits how I like to write or vice versa. I hope to make this story a good piece of fiction so please let me know if it isn't up to standards.
Introduction
I was sweaty. My short black hair clung to my face and neck as I jumped off the low platform after taking my equipment and organizing our cables. The show had gone well, better than some of our more recent ones but not the best by far. It was hard for us to perform our best when the band was incomplete.
The band. I looked over my shoulder as the guys helped Austin move his drum set for the next group to take our place. I should be helping, but the chances of them letting me were close to none. I was too "fragile," which we all knew was ridiculous, I could fight with the best of them. But at 20 and the stature of a 10 year old or smaller I guess it was a reasonable concern, don't want to loose your vocalist in a tragic cymbal accident.
I felt a hand and looked over to see Dylan, our rhythm guitarist.
"Good show pip squeak!" God I hated when they called me that, or anything else referring to my size for that matter.
"You too, and don't forget I'm older than you asshole." By five months but who's counting?
"Has nothing to do with age babe, not my fault you weigh 90 pounds soaking wet after thanksgiving dinner." I smacked him in the stomach, and he walked away chuckling. The thanksgiving dinner thing was factual. Junior year of high school they thought it would be so much fun to push me into the freezing pool and carry me squealing, kicking, and biting to a scale.
I sighed and laughed. Grabbing my mic case I walked out to the venue's loading zone and lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply I put my microphone into our shabby shithole of a van and started to the venue's door so Dylan and Elijah (our bassist) could hand me down their instruments and our box of cables. The boys finished with the drums as I took a final drag, and once the van was loaded we turned to head inside and support the other bands.
The sound of the band on stage doing their sound check pounded into my ears the second we stepped inside. People wandered over to us, complimenting our set and asking questions. I smiled to them and answered what I could, making sure to point out our merchandise table frequently. When the first bass line of a new song came from the stage, we got a break from the group that had gathered. I looked to my right at the three boys who were my best friends. Eli stood a head over me long hair straightened better than I could ever do with mine, Dylan closest to my size and scruffy all over, then Austin easily the most mature of all of us.
We were one of Seattle's favorite local bands, we were The Strix and we were family. However, our family was in a bit of a struggle now, having lost a guitarist to an east coast college. It wasn't a huge problem I suppose. We could play and perform and our modest following would love us all the same. But for the guys and me, the music was not the same.