A/N: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'd completely forgotten about this! To anyone who was waiting for me to update I'm SO SORRY!
Well, now that that's over and done with, on with the show. Welcome to chapter five. It's only taken a year for me to put this up, I don't see the problem! (SORRY!)
Blah blah not my characters etc.
CHAPTER FIVE
Homework was done, room was clean, bag was packed ready for tomorrow. Now came Zack's favourite part of the day- guitar practice. He had to use acoustic, not electric, because his dad had point blank refused to even allow an electric guitar anywhere near the house, but it was still a guitar.
Humming the first couple of notes of Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water", Zack set up his music stand, placing it up against the bed so he could sit down and practice.
He sat there holding the guitar, not playing. God, he'd give anything to be back in the band. But the only music he was allowed to play was classical guitar shit, all well and good in its own way, but not what he wanted to be playing.
Zack practiced, for probably hours, until his fingers were red and dinted and painful. Then he put his guitar away and packed up his music, ready to take to school music class.
He opened his wardrobe. There was a shoebox tucked neatly in a corner, and he opened it and took out its contents- a discman and a few CDs- Hendrix, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, Velvet Underground and The Who. This was Zack's stash- some kids hid porn, some kids hid drugs, Zack hid CDs.
Turning on the discman, he listened to his illicit music, volume down in case his mom decided to make a surprise visit to see if he was doing anything productive, and if not, why not.
He listened to an awesome drum sequence and thought of Freddy, and the band. It seemed like the band was the only thing he could think of, when he wasn't being forced to concentrate on homework. The band, the band, the band…
'Got a feeling inside…can't explain…' he sang softly along with the music. He didn't want to wind up in some dead end office job, stuck in a tiny cubicle for the rest of his life, taking orders forever. What he wanted…he wanted the band. He wanted School of Rock, and the music, the screaming guitar and the screaming fans. He didn't want crap from his parents, he didn't want to put up with restrictions and rules.
But it was getting past the obstacles that was the problem. It was fine to say what he did and didn't want, but doing something about it was much more difficult.