AN: So, this is basically a prologue, but I went ahead and made it chapter 1. It gets more interesting, if you are into this kind of thing, but I felt you needed to get to know the main character before anything too drastic happens. :)
1.
I carefully twisted my headphones around my iPod as I solemnly dragged myself to the school entrance. School, August 17. The time of year where summer days come to a close, and instead you are wasting seven hours of the day by doing unproductive things. I could be at home, with my guitar and a notebook, writing away my thoughts while composing myself in such a way only music can explain. I could be singing along to my favorite song, and get lost away in my thoughts…
I slammed my locker door shut and turned the opposite direction to the gym. That was supposedly the only place where hormone-raddled teenagers could let their energy go to waste.
As I was walking, I caught glimpse of one of the most beautiful creatures I had seen since this time of the year, in 2009. His silky brown hair, enthralling sea green eyes… I could stare at them forever. His tall, lean figure gently swept passed me, oblivious to my presence. I sighed. I knew James Mathias would never look at me the way I looked at him. I was hopeless, and yet I still dreamed.
Still in a daze from seeing James, I slowly paced my way into the gym. I sat down by the bleachers next to Stephenie Miller, who was quietly reading a book. I glanced at the cover, A Migdnight Summer's Dream. Steph was a good friend. She would always be there for me, and I would always be there for her, even though we weren't as talkative as most people. Steph and I were the only people at school that had a different perspective on life. We cared about the things that mattered, and conformed to our own morals.
"Hey, Jess." Steph muttered, trying to cram the last words of the chapter in before shutting the book and setting it aside on the bleachers with a thud.
"Hey." I replied back.
And that was that.
School went by in a steady blur, and I was thankful to be in my car again at the end of the day. The drive was usually very talkative, with my five year old sister sharing her new stories and experiences about kindergarten with my sixteen year old brother, who would listen and respond with positive influence. It's not that I don't love my siblings or my family, but I was never one to contribute much in conversation. I would often nod and say a few words here and there, but I mostly wanted to concentrate on the beats of my thundering headphones, the soft blue sky, the fluffy clouds wandering by, as if nothing else mattered but calmly drifting along
I was an intelligent person, so homework never took me long. As soon as I was finished, I grabbed my notebook and reviewed a song I had recently written, checking if the notes matched the lyrics. This process usually went on for about fifteen minutes, and when it was critiqued, I grabbed my favorite acoustic guitar, a black Gibson Maestro. Feeling my hands grasp the silky strings, the cold wood brushing my skin, my fingertips tingling with anticipation to play, was the best feeling in the world. And playing was even better. What I love about music is that you can play and play, and your words pour out through sound that only some people, unfortunately, can understand. And those people that can understand are pretty special.
The final melody of the now completed song came to an end, and I halted for a few seconds, the effect sending chills down my spine. It was so silent; you could hear a pen drop. It's not just about the song, but the mood that is set when it is played. It is an amazing thing to experience, and that is why I love music so much.
I could sit here forever and ever, lying on my bed, singing my emotions out, strumming along with a guitar, and I knew I would always be happy.