I'm currently in denial that class starts in two weeks, so this is my quick little way of coping.
Please don't hesitate to leave feedback!
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Unorganized chaos was the best way that Emma could think of to describe the current state of the band room. The director, a short, red-haired woman who was currently extremely pregnant, was standing on her podium with a look of utter desperation. A group of trumpets were emptying their spit valves by attempting to see who could send their spit into the trash can from the farthest distance. In the corner, two saxophones played through their scales with squeaks galore. Someone pounded out Heart and Soul on the portable piano accompanied by a chorus of clashing drum solos. Mrs. Perkins pulled at her red hair and then collapsed into a chair and rubbed her feet.
As Emma approached her teacher (taking care to avoid flying spit) the band director pointed towards her office. "Your music's on my desk. I would offer to help you now, but I'm going to make sure these hooligans don't do anything to get me fired. There should be a practice room you can use."
She was a little put out, but hastily slipped into her office and grabbed the folder marked 'Emma' from her desk. Just outside the door hung a clipboard with a schedule for all of the practice rooms and she squinted at it. All but two were blocked out for today. No surprise there.
It was widely known that those two rooms were the least desirable for serious practice. The first had sticky carpet from when an entire bottle of orange fanta was knocked over by the percussionists and the piano was always flat. The other room was nicer, but since it was located in the very back of the band room it had a history of unmentionable things happening in it. Just last week the janitor had caught the lacrosse team and a few cheerleaders in the midst of a game of strip poker after practice one evening. Plus it always smelled like wet dog.
Deciding that sticky carpet was better than possibly being interrupted by a promiscuous couple, Emma headed towards practice room in the corner and stood outside of it hesitantly.
A ghastly sound like a mix between a cow, a fire truck horn, and flatulence emitted from underneath the closed door. There were a few giggles and then: "Do it again!"
The noise sounded again, this time accompanied by a terrible clashing and clanging and finally a loud ringing that made her nearly drop her flute to clap her hands over her ears. The room's occupants burst out laughing again as Emma readjusted her grip on her instrument and music.
"Let me try!" Someone said through fits of giggles.
Emma debated trying to knock, but at this point everything would go tumbling to the floor if she even attempted to free a hand. Instead, she used her hip to press down on the handle and push against the door.
Peter Parker froze when Emma entered. He was in the middle of putting a tuba over his head and Ned Leeds was standing on a piano bench attempting to help him. The gong in the corner was still swinging.
"Peter, you have to help," Ned snorted, "it's too heavy to hold up here."
"Ned, quit it." Peter pushed up on the tuba, "Ned!"
The boy on the piano bench finally took notice that someone else was in the room with them. "Oh, hi, Emma!" He waved, but forgot about the large instrument he was holding in his hand. With a lack of proper support the tuba tipped from his hand and fell almost in slow motion.
Somehow Peter managed to duck out of the way just in time, but Ned wasn't so lucky. He tipped off of the bench and hit the ground with a thud just after the tuba. Emma could only watch in horror. Peter ran over to Ned as she carefully sat her flute and music on a chair and did the same.
"Holy shit, are you okay?" Peter knelt on the ground and she bent over slightly, pausing to right the bench and move it out of the way.
With a groan, Ned spread out his arms, "No, I'm dying, just leave me here to die, please."
Peter looked at Emma's alarmed expression, "He's probably just joking," he said with a wince.
"Okay…" she said slowly as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, not convinced that Ned Leeds was actually not currently dying. Pointing at the tuba, Emma gave a questioning glance towards the two friends. "And, uh…" She gestured to it's now-dented rim.
"S'only my practice tuba," Ned groaned from the ground and then mumbled incoherently.
"The middle button sticks and the mouthpiece falls off. Plus Flash Thompson threw a gum wad down it during pep band last year," Peter translated. "Uhm, did you need something though?" Peter scratched at his shoulder.
"What?"
"Did Mrs. Perkins send you in here or, like…" He trailed off.
Emma grabbed her sheet music and riffled through it, "No, I just—" A piece of paper with 'For Contest' written on it came to the top of the stack and she shoved it towards his face.
Peter leaned back to read it. "Oh, oh! I kinda forgot people still used this room to practice."His eyes widened and he glanced over at her flute. "I thought you played the French Horn?"
"Only for marching band, 'cause the flute isn't brass."
There was an awkward pause as Peter folded his arms.
"Oh, well uh, Ned and I were just messing around, right Ned?" A hand rose into the air from where Ned was lying and gave a weak thumbs up. Peter leaned over and gave Ned a fist bump.
Emma giggled, "I sure hope so, because I thought for a second someone was being murdered in here or something."
"Hey! It wasn't that bad." Ned sat up quickly but then held his head. "Whoa, blood rush."
"Ned, I think you might have a concussion," she said pointedly, only slightly serious. For a moment Emma took in Ned's hair and sweatshirt hood which were both flung over his forehead. He didn't seemed phased though, only wobbling slightly as he stood with the help of the piano and Peter.
Peter gave her a sheepish smile. "I should probably be a good friend and take him to the nurse."
"Yeah, probably."
The two friends made their way to the door, Ned leaning slightly on Peter who didn't seem to mind the extra weight. "Hey, I'll see you around."
"Bye, Emma!" Ned said cheerfully, like he hadn't just fallen from a few feet in the air. Emma waved back and as the door clicked shut she heard him say "Dude, why didn't you try to catch me."
The response to his question was muffled by the door. Why Ned would even expect Peter — a slightly-smaller-than-average teenage boy — to be able to catch him, Emma had no clue. She blinked and shook her head. They were quite the pair, those two.
She edged around the fallen tuba and began adjusting a music stand to her preference. The door swung over again; Mrs. Perkins stood in the door frame and stared at the dent in the tuba.
"Do I even want to know?"
Emma thought for a bit. "No, probably not."
"I saw Leeds and Parker walk out of here. They're alive, that's all that matters." She slid into a chair and took off her shoes. "Alright, Mr. Quinn's taking his lunch break to monitor the room, so let's try sight-reading this puppy…"
The following days were a whirlwind. Emma had been spending all of her spare time in the practice room playing through her music, trying to get it just right. Ned and Peter often joined her in the room. The second time Emma had walked in on them, they offered to leave right away, but she told them they could stay as long as they kept the noise to a minimum. Most days they worked on homework, Peter secretively scribbling hopelessly complex chemical equations and Ned tapping maniacally away at a laptop. At first she had been hesitant to allow them hear her play, (after all, band kids had a tendency towards the judgmental when it came to music) but they seemed uninterested. And surprisingly it didn't offend her.
It was like a codependent habitat. Emma thrived off their silent company and they appreciated the reserved room away from everyone else.
One day in particular she had gotten into the room before the two friends and had already put together her flute when Peter and Ned walked in. They were whispering, their heads put together and arms full of boxes. She paid them no mind until there was a loud clatter from over in the corner. As Emma whipped her head around quickly, Peter and Ned were hastily moving around on their hands and knees picking up little pieces of something.
"Are those legos?" Emma slid out of her seat to squat on the sticky carpet.
Peter looked up and frowned slightly. "Yeeaahh," he said a bit defensively. "Ned you're going to kneel on Chewie." Ned froze and pulled a lego character out from below him. She picked up a piece that had skittered over by her feet and dropped it in Peter's outstretched hand.
"I used to play with my dad's old legos when he wasn't looking." Emma shrugged, "They were pretty vintage though."
Ned dumped a few pieces into a box and she looked at the picture on the side. "I didn't know they made big sets like that though. Is that the Millennia Falcon?"
"Millennium," Ned corrected as Peter snorted.
Sliding back up into her chair, she turned back towards her music. "Sorry, I've never seen Star Wars." Emma had just pressed her flute to her lips when:
"You've never seen Star Wars?" Emma turned to see Ned and Peter, both with jaws dropped and with faces of disbelief.
"Well, I mean I think I saw one a few years ago. I think there was some kind of race? And a bunch of weird aliens?"
"Phantom Menace," they said simultaneously.
"That could be it." She shrugged, "Was super weird though, I never even saw the ending."
"You can't judge the whole series by just the prequels!" Ned exclaimed.
"They're notoriously bad compared to the originals," Peter agreed.
Emma blinked at them and pressed her lips together. "Okay, I have no idea what any of that meant."
"Blasphemy, straight blasphemy."
"Unacceptable."
They exclaimed in unison; Ned smacked the floor dramatically and Peter jumped to his feet in a fluid motion. Their sudden movement made Emma nearly fall out of her seat so she grabbed the edge of the piano to steady herself. She stared at them warily.
"Sorry?"
"You know what this means, Ned?"
"Star Wars marathon!"
"Oh, I don't know…" Emma was interrupted.
"Not an option, we're going to get the whole Star Wars gang together."
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The whole gang ended up being a guy and girl from their academic decathlon team, Mandy Baker who was a percussionist in the band, and a kid who Emma knew was in the chess club with you but whose name she couldn't remember. Everyone was already gathered in the living room of Ned's apartment hovering over bowls of chips that his mother had set out before she arrived in out of the pouring rain. His mother took her soaked umbrella and boots away to dry as Emma was swarmed by people.
"Finally! We've been waiting to start!"
She took a full gasp of air and tried to smooth her frizzy hair, slightly out of breath from her journey, "Sorry, there was a big traffic backup because of a gas leak or something."
"Emma ! I saved you a seat!" Called Mandy from the couch as she patted the cushion beside her.
Emma settled into the seat and took in her apparel which consisted of Star Wars themed clothing and a lightsaber that was sticking out of her pocket. "I didn't know you were such a Star Wars fan."
"I'm not really," Mandy whispered conspiratorially, "but Peter's cute enough that I'll like anything that lets me hang out with him." She smiled a smile full of braces. "I've called dibs."
Emmahe supposed he was kinda cute in a dorky sort of way. Cute enough that she felt the heat rush into her cheeks when he plopped next to her and accidentally brushed up against her thigh.
Mandy leaned over Emma, "Hi, Peter!"
Peter mumbled a greeting back and dug a remote out from underneath him.
Ned dimmed the lights and flung himself onto the floor as the yellow title card began rolling across the screen and loud orchestral music began.
Mandy fell asleep just before the first movie ended, softly snoring with her head resting on her shoulder. Emma was feeling drowsy herself but any time that her eyes drooped Peter nudged her. After watching spaceships blow each other up and masked troopers shoot ridiculous weapons for hours, Emma just wanted to sleep. Even the spectacular score by John Williams couldn't pique her interest enough to keep her awake.
Emma woke up to a flashing light emitting from the television. The movies had reached their end and an option menu was playing on the screen. Someone had muted it, but the stark brightness was enough to wake her from her snooze. Knowing she would never be able to fall back asleep with the TV on, Emma slid off the couch and pulled the remote from the chip bowl. With a click of the remote the TV faded to black and she were left to shuffle around the sleeping bodies of Ned and the kid from chess club. But as Emma returned to her seat she found that Mandy had fallen over and stretched over the entire length of the couch.
Peter was missing as well, although it was entirely possible that he had moved seats or gone home after Emma had fallen asleep. She edged her way carefully out of the living room and into the kitchen where Emma poured herself a cup of water and stared out the window, listening to the rain pelt against the glass. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. Just as Emma had made her mind to go find another place to lie down, there was a muffled thud from a room down the hall accompanied by hissed swears.
Instantly Emma was on high alert.
She edged from her position in the kitchen to the door frame and listened again. The sound of light footsteps had her tensing and before she even knew what you were doing, she was creeping down the hall towards the source of the noises. Following the light thuds, Emma ended up outside of the closed door to the bathroom. The light in the room was off. She hovered outside of it with bated breath.
"Why won't you shut…" someone whispered, "come on… finally!" A window latched clicked and Emma had a horrible realization that someone was entering the house through the window. There was a moment that she debated making a run for it, but then she decided that if she were going to be murdered she wanted to go down with a fight.
Without another thought, Emma flung open the door and rushed at the bathroom's occupant.
Emma made no contact with the person. Instead she rammed into the wall and fell onto the floor as the light clicked on. From her angle Emma took in a soaking wet figure in baggy blue pants, a red hoodie, and finally a masked face with a pair of goggles that were looking right at her. She opened her mouth to scream but before Emma could get the sound out they launched at her and pressed their hand over her mouth. She bit down hard and they yanked back.
"Ow, hey, it's me! Peter!"
They yanked the covering from their head revealing Peter's curly (though now matted) brown hair and soft brown eyes.
"Peter?" Emma struggled to her feet, "What the hell are you doing? You're all wet!"
"I was… I was taking a shower." They both looked down at his soaked hoodie, "… In my clothes. Because I don't like getting all wet?" He posed the ending more like a question and waited for her to say something.
With absolutely no idea how to respond, Emma let her jaw hang open and just stared with wide eyes.
After a minute of dead silence she sighed, "You know what? I'm tired, I just want to go to bed and not focus on the fact that you came in through the window of Ned's bathroom wearing goggles." Emma turned to leave.
"Wait, Emma" Peter called after her and she turned, the tone in his voice slightly desperate. But all he said was, "goodnight."
"Goodnight, Peter." Emma said softly, then yawned and headed back to bed, head swimming.
That night, as she struggled to get comfortable on the floor in front of the TV, her restless dreams were filled with tiny bug-eyed humans that crawled back and forth on the ceiling, watching her with cautious eyes.