I flinch as I'm rudely awoken by a persistent beeping. The annoyingly shrill noise seeps into my brain, right past my logical thoughts into the crazy part of my brain that made me eat a snail when I was little. And it just keeps repeating. Finally I can't take it anymore and angrily sit up to seek out the source of the noise. And I'm not happy to discover it's my alarm clock. I'm less happy to realize it's waking me up at 9:30 am on a Saturday. I slam my hand on the off button, the clock cutting off in the middle of a beep.
I immediately want to go demand why this is happening from my parents, but before I get to my door I pass my calender, which loudly boasts a note for this particular Saturday. One saying, 'Band Dress Rehearsal!' in red sharpie. Well. That explains it. But it does nothing to pacify me. In fact, it just pisses me off more once I see it.
"Took you long enough to turn that off Maxious." My sister who sleeps on the bunk above me mutters angrily. I roll my eyes, though she can't see it, and mark an X on my calendar.
"Why are you complaining? You get to go back to sleep." I mutter bitterly. She makes some sort of satisfied noise and shifts into a more comfortable position. With some discreet cuss words, I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and set out to get dressed and ready.
On school days I don't normally go to any lengths at all when I get ready, just going for jeans and t-shirts. However, Saturdays usually find me in something a bit nicer. Though, usually it's not 9:30 in the morning when I get up on Saturdays. Usually I'm more willing to put in the effort. Today though...jeans and t-shirt it is! I grab my shirt I got from my dad last Christmas, featuring the Roadrunner, Wile E. Coyote, and Sonic the Hedgehog. Wile E. is paying off a victorious Sonic who has the Roadrunner by his skinny neck. Beneath the cartoon is the caption, 'OUTSOURCING'. It's sort of a joke between dad and me. We're the only ones in my rather large and crazy family who like the Roadrunner cartoons, so we're the only ones who think the shirt is funny.
After pulling on my clothes and some mustache socks, I make my way to the bathroom I share with my three sisters. I brush my hair, which is brown like my dads and falls to the middle of my back in delicate waves. The sanitary stuff comes next, the brushing of teeth and applying of deodorant, etc. Then I splash some water on my face just to finish waking myself and half walk, half stumble to the front room. My mom and two of my brothers are already up, watching some show about crazy huge fish in Brazil or something, and my mom gives me a weird look when she sees me.
"She lives. Before noon." She smirks.
"Ha ha." I roll my eyes bitterly. My family thinks it's hilarious that I sleep in the latest on weekends. But I sleep in because I do stuff during the week. Only dad, my oldest brother, and me really do. But dad and Lance do stuff on the weekends too, otherwise they would sleep in as well. I go straight to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle, and collapse on an empty part of the couch.
"When am I taking you over Max?" Mom asks with a monotone voice that says she's solving some sort of puzzle. Sudoku or a crossword. Mom is always working on some kind of puzzle. Because she doesn't have anything else to be doing. I mean, she doesn't work, she doesn't clean, she doesn't have any little kids to fuss over. I'm the youngest and I'm 17. I haven't been fussed over since I was like 10. Instead she mass collects puzzle books and mystery novels.
"10:10." I murmur between yawns. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night. I knew I had this band rehearsal, but I still didn't fall asleep until nearly 5 am. Some of that is my fault. The rest is the night terrors. Everyone of my ten member family has had them. Even our parents. But theirs all went away around age 6. Mine just kind of refuse to let go.
I drift in and out of one minute dreams until my mom announces it's time to go. I finish off my water and check to make sure I have my wallet and phone before slipping on my shoes and following mom down to the car. She immediately rolls down the windows, even though it's hot as hell outside and air conditioner would be appreciated. May in Mesa, Arizona. Not so good. Not. So. Good. But my mother swears by windows, not AC.
"I'll get you reeds today and bring them by during the rehearsal." Because the past three weeks I've been asking you for more were just suggestions. Now that the concert is right around the corner, you're serious about getting them. I don't know why that annoys me so much. But a lot of what my mom and siblings do annoys me.
"Thanks." I yawn rather than get into it with her. Most of what I think never reaches my lips. Which sometimes I think is a shame because some things need to be said, and some people need a good yelling at. Just, I guess, not by me. She pulls into the parking lot by the performing arts part of my High School and stops near the door.
"Call when you're done, or I can leave the reeds in your locker."
"Sure, I'll leave the lock open." I agree quickly and jump out. I'm pretty ridiculously early, but anything to limit the tension and awkwardness between me and pretty much every one of my family members. Even my dad, who I love, is awkward to be around for me. On account of my eyes. My mom has blue eyes. My dad has blue eyes. I have lavender eyes. Like for real, pale purple eyes. All my other siblings have blue eyes like our parents, no one knows where I get them. And we all refuse to even acknowledge the idea that maybe mom cheated on dad, cuz that's just ridiculous. He's the only one who can put up with her. So I'm just an anomaly.
"Max!" One of the members of my section, I play clarinet, sees me as I walk in the band room, and runs over to hug me. I don't really know Ally well, but she seems nice enough. She hugs everyone. Even weird lavender-eyed Max. And she's in my section, of which I'm the leader, so I let her. "You're here early too!" She points out the obvious. Technically the rehearsal for my band class, the Symphonic Band, doesn't start until 10:45 and it's barely 10:20. But I overestimated the time I would need to get here and waiting around home was not an option, with all my siblings who live and breath to tease and torment me.
"I woke up early." I lie. Then I scan the room for the rest of my section. Some of them might already be in the Auditorium watching the higher band, Wind Ensemble, have their rehearsal that started a few hours before ours, but in here there's only Ally, a boy named Banker, a freshman girl named Shannon, and me. I'm missing three of my clarinetists, and I can only pray they get here on time or Tocker, the Nazi band director, will not be happy.
"Hey, did you hear the Tenor who's singing with us is coming in this morning?" Ally chatters as she follows me into the locker room to put my clarinet together. For some reason, Tocker decided to make our final concert of the year even more impossibly technical and over the top by asking an opera singer to come sing with us playing the music behind him. And for some even more unfathomable reason, the opera singer said yes. So now we're playing our music, opera music, and this piece for the seniors, which I happen to be included in that last category.
"That's good. Wouldn't want to play the concert without first playing with him." I acknowledge, kneeling on the ground to twist the joints of my instrument together. I choose my least unacceptable reed and grab the little shot glass I keep in my case. Gee those new reeds I'm not getting until I get out of the rehearsal sure would be nice right about now. I've been playing on the same five reeds for like five months now. Which is not only gross, but also not very musically acceptable. Luckily Tocker hasn't notices yet. Mostly cuz I'm pretty good on my instrument so whether or not the reed sucks is generally left up to viewer discretion. But, I'm the viewer and my discretion says my reeds suck.
"Look, Lulu is here." Ally points out and I glance at the door where one of the remaining three clarinetists has just come in. Good. Two more and we'll have a full house. In my section at least. I frown as I think about how it's only my section because I'm the oldest and most experienced in the lower band. But...it's still the lower band. I got moved down after I quit marching band two years ago. And even though I'm better than some of the first clarinetists in the higher band, Tocker won't move me back up.
"Wanna call Jash and Kayla, make sure they're coming?" I ask Ally. She nods, happy to have a job, and races off to borrow someone's phone. I take the shot glass to the little drinking fountain in the band room and fill it enough to put my reed in. I much prefer this method to wetting the reed myself. Especially since I've gone so long on this one. Not for much longer though, assuming mom remembers to get new reeds and doesn't flake out. Which has been known to happen before so, who knows. I glance around at the other people besides my section, only to find no one I like enough to talk to.
Grabbing my music folder, I leave the band room and make my way to the next door Auditorium to watch the end of Wind Ensemble's rehearsal. They're playing Vesuvius by Frank Ticheli, one of my favorite pieces, so I like listening to them. It makes me even madder that I got kicked out and didn't get to play it with them. There's a few other kids, all from different sections, scattered around watching. I avoid them and find a little empty part of the seats to sit and soak my reed.
It's still really early, and I may be half asleep, but I swear sometimes I see little flashes out of the corner of my eye. Like blurs. But by the time I turn my head to see, they're gone. I blame it on the sleep deprivation and settle further into my seat, shuddering to myself. It is really cold in the auditorium. I can't wait to be up on stage under the lights. It's warmer there. And I get my wish. Tocker finishes up with the Wind Ensemble and sends them on their way. He goes to the band room to call all the Symphonic band members in, and I take the opportunity to get set up while he's gone. Give him a nice little surprise when he comes back. I know I unnerve him. I unnerve a lot of people. But Tocker doesn't like people who intimidate him so he's constantly scowling at me. Me and my lavender eyes and bad moods and quiet brilliance.
"Butler." That's the only way Tocker will refer to me. By my last name. And always in a way that makes me think it's a cuss word.
"Tocker." I acknowledge in near the same tone. Once everyone has come in, Tocker lists the order of our music. The Holst Suite in E Flat, The John Williams Suite, and Kentucky Song. Then he lists the opera music we'll be working on. O Mio Babbino Caro, Con Te Partiro, Bring Him Home, and Nessun Dorma.
"Mr. Johnny Albridge and Mrs. Tocker will be here at 11:00 to start practicing the opera stuff." Tocker announces. I knew his wife was an opera singer too, but I didn't know she was going to be singing with us too. Though, I suppose it makes sense. Since O Mio Babbino Caro and Con Te Partiro have female parts. There's a murmur of excitement that ripples through our smaller band. Jash, the other first clarinet in symphonic band, smiles wide at me. He's more excited about this whole concert than I am. "SO...we need to get to work on our stuff so when they get here we'll be ready to start on it.
We immediately jump into the music after tuning. By the time 11:00 rolls around, we're done with two of our pieces, going over our third. We've been doing this music most of the semester, so I'm not shocked by how quickly we're going through it. Still, damn. I think we're making good time, and Tocker isn't stopping us much to comment. It's while we're playing the corral part of Kentucky Song that Mr. Albridge and Mrs. Tocker show up. Tocker cuts us off and steps aside so Mr. Albridge can introduce himself. I'm paying such close attention to the magnificent mountain of a man that I don't even notice the sand until it's wrapped around his legs to his knees. I jump up with a gasp, pointing at it.
All eyes follow my finger to the fine black sand that's twining it's way up Mr. Albridge's legs, now to his waist. And Tocker's too! And Mrs. Tocker! All three of them are immobilized in only a few moments, before the sand starts yanking them back. Over the pit. Once completely over the pit, the sand drops the three adults into the sub-level hole and seals over it, leaving only twenty some high school students in a suddenly freezing cold auditorium. And a very dark auditorium as well. It seems like the very air is darkening and condensing, especially in one corner.
From the darkest, densest part of that black corner, suddenly golden eyes shine, like two matches on a moonless night. The eyes seem to taunt us even from where they are. Slowly, ever so slowly, a man emerges from the darkness, the owner of the golden eyes. Black sand seeps from him, shooting over the seats, covering the walls, turning the room even darker. I can't even inch back as it comes ever closer with the dark man. I feel frozen.
The man glances at all of us in boredom, like he's some kinda big shot, then at the pit where shouting can be vaguely heard. With a twitch of his wrist, the obscure shouting is silenced, but I shudder to wonder just what he's done to quiet the three older folks. I look him over as he leisurely gets closer to the stage. Horribly, terribly slower. Taking all the time in the world. And stealing a bit more of my breath as he comes.
He has gray skin, smooth but grainy like the sand. And shining ever so slightly like tiny crystals are imbedded deep in his flesh. He wears a cloak seemingly made of shadow and the sand he commands. And his hair is the darkest shade of black I've ever seen. Everything about him is gray or black or dark, except his eyes. Which shine with dangerous madness despite the disinterest in them as he studies us. I feel his amber eyes on me for moments before they flick to the next kid. But in those moments, my heart jumps to my throat, threatening to completely constrict it.
"I am looking for Jack Frost." He speaks and his voice is rich, smooth, and seeps into my very brain, but condescending. Like we're not worthy of his time, but he's obligated to talk to us about Jack Frost anyways. Despite my heart still being in my throat, my natural sarcasm flares dangerously, wanting to speak out with a witty remark. But no one, not even me, seems to be able to speak. And the man frowns. "I said, I am looking...for Jack Frost." He enunciates like we're simpletons, baring his sharp teeth in annoyance. This time I can't help it.
"I think you're geography teacher should be immediately retired if you're looking for Jack Frost in Mesa Arizona. In case you didn't know, we're sorta the opposite of cold here." He glances down at me with distaste before the strangest look crosses his face. Something a mix of pleasure and curiosity. It's not a very pleasant look to me. In fact, it's downright creepifying. Suddenly a wide grin nearly splits his face in two. That's even worse.
"Quite a natural leader you are." He motions to the others on the stage, who unbeknownst to me have all huddled together a good five feet behind me, getting far away from this intimidating man. One girl is even weeping ever so slightly. My eyes go wide at them. How could they leave me standing alone like that? I know none of them much care for me, but still. You'd think they'd drag me back with them or something!
"Only by accident." I mutter back to the man. His grin only grows in it's devilish creepiness. He takes a unhurried step forward and puts his hand under my chin. A shiver shoots down my spine at the feel of his skin. Not grainy like I thought, but smooth as glass or water. But it almost burns, only not in a heat way.
"You're no Jack Frost. But I must admit...you transfix me. Not many have the nerve to be snide to me. What is your name?" He demands. If I were any less stubborn I would tell him. But right now the Irish in me is telling me to swat his hand and punch him in the face. Then there's the humbled youngest child of 7 maniacs that makes me hold my ground and not feed his satisfaction. So in the end I just look at him. And he just looks at me. "I have ways to find out without your help." He informs me. I shrug, like it doesn't bother me in the slightest.
"The police are on their way! Let her go!" A girl from the brass section suddenly states, holding her phone up for him to see. The man gives her the same disinterested glance he at first gave me, but this time it stays disinterested.
"Well it seems my time is limited now. And there doesn't appear to be any annoying Frost spirits here." He murmurs lazily, starting to slowly circle me. "But before I go, first meetings usually warrant introductions. And since you won't tell me your name, I'll tell you mine. Pitch Black, King of Nightmares. But children know me as the Boogeyman." His predatory grin never leaves his face as he grandly introduces himself. A few kids behind me murmur, and I'm sure one is chuckling. But if "Pitch Black" can hear them, he doesn't acknowledge them. His eyes are on me as I keep a blank face.
"We're not children. Although I'm sure I'm not the only one drawing connections between your initials and a certain delicious spread for toast and sandwiches." I smirk. His eyes narrow and his grin grows smaller for a moment but then it returns.
"I assure you, I existed long before your mockery and the subject thereof." His eyes finally flick away from my face and towards an empty part of the auditorium. "Max...isn't it." He smirks and I can't help the little falter I get. How the hell... "I told you I have my ways. Maxious Butler. Youngest of 8 children, the only sane one of the lot, but that's not really saying much is it?" He goes on. I really don't want to know how much else he knows, so I stop him.
"Okay you know my name and I know yours. But as you pointed out, time is short and there's no Jack Frost. So may I suggest you do whatever it is you're planning and then leave?" I demand. There's no mistaking the spark of madness in those golden eyes. He does have something planned. But what? And why is it suddenly including me? If I had just kept my mouth shut.
"I'll be seeing you again Max." Pitch says ominously. I make a face of disappointment.
"Damn. And here I was hoping this was only a one time invasion of sanity." He grins one more time, getting far to close to me for comfort before putting his lips right next to my ear.
"You have no idea what your future holds now Max. But just know, you won't like it." With that he steps back towards the dark corner he came from and with a chilling laugh disappears. The last things I see are those disgustingly haunting eyes peering right at me in delight. The second he's gone, the sand over the pit recedes and we all snap back into it. Jash leans over the side of the stage and sighs.
"They're breathing. I think they're asleep." He informs us. A dozen kids run up to the side to peer over with him, and one jumps down to check their pulse. I'm slowly backing away from the group as they head towards the rim of the stage. Once no one is looking, I turn and run for the band room. I have to get out of here. I don't know where to go, or what to do, but I can't stay here. Not if there's even a chance Pitch will come back.
"Hey, wait!" I ignore the voice. Probably one of my band mates trying to interrogate me. I just pick up my pace. Something cold and wet hits the back of my head, an embarrassing 'eep!' escaping my lips. I turn angrily only for my bitter words to be frozen on my tongue. The kid in the hall facing me is like no one I've ever seen. Abnormally skinny and almost translucently pale with 100% white hair and blue tints to his cheeks and lips. He's probably only a few inches taller than me, wearing brown jeans, a blue hoodie with what looks like frost around the neck and sleeves, and no shoes. And he has some sort of weird shepherds cane that he's twirling happily. He gives me a cheeky grin and tosses another snowball up and down in his hand. "Thanks." He smirks.
"For what?" I demand.
"Distracting him."
OOOOO
So that's that. Just an idea I got while at my band practice. I wish something like this would happen in reality. Just for shits and giggles. I do have more, but only if people are interested in it. Leave a review or something to let me know and there may be more up soon.