"NO WAY!" I yelled straight into my best friend Tori's face. "NO FUCKING WAY!"
"Yes way! I can't believe I had an uncle with connections and never knew about it! I just thought he was good for pirated CD's at Christmas!" she yelled back. The magical items of my desire where only inches from my face, and they seemed to be glowing. Common sense told me that the flimsy pieces of cardstock were not gleaming, but I almost never used common sense. That's just how my brain works. I tend to follow my heart faster than my mind, and that generally gets me into a lot of sticky situations. But right now it wasn't about that, right now all my whacked out mind could think about was the fact that my best friend was holding two Tokio Hotel tickets in front of my hungry eyes.
"Gimme gimme, let me see it" I demanded, plucking the ticket from her hand. She was correct; they were genuine Tokio Hotel tickets, the bands name printed in bold letters at the top of the voucher. I read every word, every nonsense letter; just to be sure they weren't fakes. Then a certain piece of information caught my eye.
"Whoa. We are in the first row" I said, almost whispering this newfound information.
"Holy crap your right!" Tori replied, inspecting her own ticket.
"Ill make us shirts tonight, I was going to head over to the Jackpot after school anyways." I say, still in a complete sense of awe. The Jackpot was the place where I went to print my shirts, which is my hobby right now.
"Sounds great. And uh, Ellie? Let me keep your ticket before you loose it already. Don't deny the fact that you will." I unwillingly handed her my ticket, knowing it was the best for everyone. I'm probably one of the most unorganized people you will ever meet, and placing that sacred ticked into my giant black whole of a purse was not a smart move. I practically skipped off to my next class, which ironically was voice. My psycho Middle aged teacher made sure to shatter my happiness as soon as I walked in the door.
"Ms Walters, please enter my classroom in a more respectful way next time." Mrs. Georgiana informed me. Ok seriously, this lady has got to be in her mid thirties and she acts like she's 82. And she never, ever lets me sing the type of music I want to. I tried to convince her to let me sing this really awesome rock ballad for our winter voice recital, but no, I had to sing stupid show tunes. How typical.
I take my usual seat next to Sam, a fellow free spirit and good friend. I really admire the way she doesn't care if people judge her, not to mention her incredible ability to pull off any florescent color of eye liner imaginable. I practically burst into my story before Sam had even greeted me, and she seemed less then enthused.
"Hm, sounds nice" she said, skimming a new piece of music while I ranted about my ticket.
"That's it? That's all you have to say about Tokio Hotel tickets?" I say, not even bothering to pretend to read my own music. It's some stupid Baroque piece that makes no sense and has far too many notes per word.
"Their not really my taste, but that's great for you" Alex's taste consisted of really original indie stuff, like The Moldy Peaches.
"Aw come on Alex, you've got to respect for a band who can pull off dreads, a lions mane, and girl hair and still look hot" Just then I look up to see Mrs. Georgiana glaring at me from the piano.
"In my defense Mrs. George we were talking about music" she simply shook her head and went back to playing the notes of the hectic classical piece. I don't know why she hates me so much, I mean I do all the work and I'm not too shabby of a singer either. I guess she looks at me as a waste. I never want to do the stupid songs she assigns us, and to tell the truth I'm really not going to try to pursue a career in music.
I decided just to suck it up and work, because Mrs. Georgiana was threatening my grade if I didn't participate in class. As if she had been reading my mind, Mrs. George called me up to sing the song in front of the class. I let out a groan as I stood up and centered myself in front of the class. I sang the intricate baroque song watching Sam smile at me. When I was done, Mrs. George made it a point to say that my voice was too "modern" and how I needed to make it more dramatic, yada yada. I simply walked back to my seat and turned my ipod to "Ready, set, go!" and let Bill Kaulitz's voice drown out that of my teacher.