Sometimes, I feel like I'm just a white sundress, my 6-string acoustic, and a dream. Or, maybe just nothing at all. Sure, my official nickname is "Lottie," but it really should be "nobody."
Okay, that's more poetic than my usual.
It would be actually kind of cool to be "nobody." Like, say a mother asked her child who broke her special vase. He would say, "nobody," which would be me. Wait, uh, maybe that's not a good scenario... How about someone asked a guest to their party if the brought any "plus-one's" and they would say that they brought "nobody"-
"Charlotte?"
I turned to Guitar Dude, refocusing from thoughts. "Oh. Sorry, I was daydreaming, I guess."
"That's cool," he said, nodding. I watched as his long hair flipped up and down with him. "What did you see?"
"Um, nothing... Can we just continue with the lesson?"
Guitar Dude nodded coolly again then bent over his guitar and started playing a complex piece. Once he finished, he looked up at me, giving me the signal to try.
I took a deep breath and softly attempted to imitate what he played, but I felt more like I was just making stuff up.
"Not quite there yet, dude, not quite..." he said. I gritted my teeth. I hated it when he called me "dude." I honestly would prefer "nobody," at least it would be accurate.
"You just need to chill. Watch me again and let your hands fly away in the 'Song of Santana.'" I also hate that word, "chill." He used those two words at least 300 times a day each.
I didn't exactly want to take lessons from Guitar Dude in the first place. I mean I'm good enough to write my own songs. But when I moved to the Palm Woods, I remember hearing him play in the pool deck. That's when it hit me, I was going to be up against that. Of course, Guitar Dude isn't aspiring to be a songwriter like myself, but there had to people that are as good as him that were.
Anyway, I immediately begged for lessons. I needed to become an expert at guitar, I'm talking good enough to impress Kiss. And now I've kind of put my dream on hold until I've got this guitar down… which may be a good thing, since I'm only 16. At this age, one might be a little young to become a professional songwriter. I guess maybe if I try real hard, I could get some small jobs, like writing for demo CDs or those cheesy and unpopular, straight-to-video movies by the time I'm eighteen.
"Chill, Charlotte. Let your fingers relax," Guitar Dude says, then he wiggled his body like a hippie, his signature move.
"Can we just end lessons early today?" I asked, setting down my guitar. "I'm just not feeling it."
"That's cool, that's cool," he said. I have a feeling "cool" will join my list of words that annoy me, like "chill" and "dude," soon.
Then, a sound of running and yelling filled the pool deck. Guitar Dude and I turned, watching as the usual four came in.
Big Time Rush. They were a singing group of friends from Minnesota; Kendall, James, Carlos, and Logan. Apparently, they're being produced by Gustavo Rocque, who produced a bunch of boy bands and had a lot of hits a decade ago. I guess Big Time Rush was his "comeback" group.
Around the Palm Woods, they were known as Big Time Reckless. Mr. Bitters, the apartment manager, absolutely despises them. But then, who doesn't he hate? Pretty much everyone else liked them; they were funny, cute, outgoing, and really good singers. I personally didn't talk to them much, they probably didn't even know I existed. Actually, not a lot of people know I exist around here. That's what you get when you're shy and quiet, I guess.
Anyway, their timing was perfect; I would be leaving the pool deck just as they were entering. When these boys go for a swim, everyone within 10 feet was bound to get soaked, and I did not feel like getting wet today.
I grabbed my guitar book (which I don't actually use, Guitar Dude claims that books are "overrated" and you need to learn by "experience, not letters"), my pick, my capo, and as I was putting away my guitar into its case, the perfect example of how reckless this group of boys are occurred. And it happened to include me.
I didn't see exactly what happened, but apparently the boys were pushing each other and ended up near the table where Guitar Dude and I were holding lessons. Carlos was holding a smoothie, and, well, you can guess what happened. Someone pushed Carlos a little too hard, he fell, and smoothie land on, that's right, me.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Carlos said, getting up off the ground, unharmed.
"It's okay," I said, quickly double checking my guitar. To my relief, not one spot of smoothie was on it. But my hair was not so fortunate.
His three friends looked like they were trying hard not to laugh. One of them, I think it was Kendall, helped me up while I think Logan got me a towel.
"Thanks," I said shyly, taking to towel and dabbing my hair with it. I tried not to stare at their amused faces. As I said, they were pretty cute. And I don't think I've ever been this close to them before… I immediately stopped myself before I became hypnotized in their cute dimples and gorgeous hair and…
"Sorry about that." I think it was James who said that. Whoever it was, I guessed he was the one who pushed Carlos.
"Really, its fine," I said, quickly picking up my stuff and leaving the pool. I'm sure my face was either flushed or outrageously blushing. I walked up to the elevator and pushed the up button, but Bitters caught me first.
"Did the boys…?" he asked. I nodded. He pumped his fist and ran to the pool, ready and excited to rat them out.
Let me change my thought; sometimes, I feel like I'm just a white sundress, my 6-string acoustic, and smoothie'd hair.
Author's Note:
My first fanfic! The excitement! I hope this wasn't too long. And... I know on this site its cliché, but please review! Actually, I don't expect a lot, its kind of a boring chapter. But if you've got something to say… say it! Thanks!
Also, I promise to post the next chapter very soon!
