Part 3: Twelfth Grade

Chapter 22

September 9th, 2005

A crunchy barred B chord, followed swiftly by a crunchier A chord, pinkie lifted off the E string. He dropped to the D chord, ripping the strings like they owed him money, then opened up to an E chord. I hit the snare with both sticks.

"~Fellinlovewithagirl!~"

I followed his rhythm, crashing down on the cymbals as he toured through the chorus.

"~Ifellinloveonce,butalmostcompletely!~"

He slid back up to the barred B. It was an easy four beat drum rhythm, and I had practiced plenty.

"~She'sinlovewiththewo-orld!~"

I watched his right hand move in a blur. Down, down-up, up-down-up-down. We'd spent a lot of time in his basement listening to the White Blood Cells vinyl on repeat.

"~Butsometimes these feelings canbesomisleading!~"

His left hand grabbed a harsh F-sharp. He leaned into the mic and took a deep breath.

"~She turns and says 'are you alright', I said 'I must be fine, 'cause my heart's still beating'!~"

I realized I was starting to speed up, so I relaxed my shoulders and let his strumming through the chords keep me in time.

"~Come and kiss me by the riverside, yeah!~"

He hit the F-sharp and quickly muted as I came down on both crash cymbals and let them ring.

"~Bobbysaidit'sfinehedon'tconsideritcheating, now!~"

I hit the snare again as we split into the second verse. His accuracy dropping back to the barred B was frightening, almost like I was playing with the actual Jack White.

"~Red Hairwithacurl!~"

I watched him reach down to hit the pickup switch to knock it down one position, in between up and down strums. And he didn't even lose his pace or time. I had to focus to not let my wonderment distract me.

"~Mellowroll fortheflavour and the eyes for peeping!~"

The sunlight glinted in through the window and off the chrome pickguard on the borrowed Mustang, shining into my eyes. I closed them, and let the sound of the guitar guide my hands.

"~Can'tkeepawayfromthegirl!~"

I tried my best to not do that thing you see drummers doing where their mouths hang open while they're playing, but since I had to keep reminding myself to close my mouth after every line, I'm sure I looked like a right idiot with my dumb jaw flapping open and closed like an adolescent Miss Pacman.

"~These two sides of my brain need to have a meeting!~"

Jaune, on the other hand, had incredible poise and appearance, his knees just slightly bent, and his back at the exact punk-rock angle into the microphone. Honestly, he looked like a professional.

"~Can't think ofanythingtodo, yeah, my left brain knows thatallloveisfleeting!~"

His messy blond hair fell into his face every time he leaned into the mic after taking a breath, and it was surprisingly hard to not be distracted by it. Thanks to the practice we'd been doing, Jaune's voice was actually pretty close to the whiny, nasal quality of Jack White's. Now, pretty close, not exact. There were still moments where you could just barely hear the tale end of his French accent.

"~She's lookin' for SOMEthin' new, yeah, I'vesaiditoncebefore, but it bears repeating, now!~"

With a hit of the crash, we rode through the instrumental section, which is the opening's B-A-D-E progression played twice. Jaune's chorus 'ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh's were incredibly on pitch, despite the original versions sloppy note-sliding. He dropped back to the F-sharp, his eyes wide with a dramatic flare.

"~Can't think ofanythingtodo, yeah, my left brain knows thatallloveisfleeting!~"

He adjusted his treble knob up half a number between strums.

"~She's lookin' for SOMEthin' new, yeah, I'vesaiditoncebefore but bears repeating now!~"

Somewhere between the 'somethin' and the 'new, yeah', I had noticed that his high E string had come down out of tune like a fraction of a semitone. But so had Jaune, as just before we jumped back into the verse, his right hand shot up to the headstock and turned in the last peg about an eighth of a turn. I hit the snare with both sticks as the first verse progression started again.

"~Fellinlovewithagirl! Ifellinloveonce but almost completely!~"

I grinned through my tongue, hitting the crash between transitions and moving from the hi-hat to the high crash for my right hand rhythm.

"~She'sinlovewiththeworld! Butsometimes these feelings canbesomisleading!~"

My right leg was a blur on the kick pedal, pumping out a beat a lot more complicated than the original, just to add a little substance.

"~She turns and says 'are you alright', I said 'I must be fine, 'cause my heart's still beating'!~"

With how hard he was strumming, I'm surprised he hadn't snapped his pick. Yet.

"~Come and kiss me by the riverside, yeah!~"

I hit the crash and quickly grabbed it to mute the sound as he hit the F-sharp and muffled the strings.

"~Bobbysaidit'sfine,hedon'tconsiderit cheating, now!~"

I smashed us back into the verse progression, and Jaune dug another set of 'ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh's from deep within his soul, belting out into the mic like it owed him money. The pair of amps were doing a hell of a job keeping up, the Fender Deluxe for his guitar and the Peavey Invective for his voice. He dropped down to the F-sharp for the pre-chorus, and I switched to a high-ride to follow him.

"~Can't thinkofanything to do, yeah, my left brain knows thatallloveis flee-ting!~"

He did a quick flip of his hair to get it out of his face.

"~She'sjustlookingfor SOMEthin' new, yeah!~"

He hit the last F-sharp and muted, grabbing the mic in his right hand and almost shoving it in his mouth.

"~Isaiditoncebefore, but it BEARS repeating, now!~"

He hit the last B as I rocked down on both crashes, grabbing them quickly to mute. One minute and fifty seconds after we started, it was over. Just like that. As the sound in the room dissipated, I flicked my head back and let my hair slap against my back as I sat up on the stool. Jaune and I looked at each other from across the drumset. He nodded to me, bottom lip pressed out. I grinned back.

"Yeah?"

"Not bad," he said, lifting his guitar off and spinning the volume knob all the way down, before setting it into its stand. "That was pretty good."

"Pretty good?! Why only pretty good?!"

He shrugged and sat down in one of the little black band chairs.

"I missed a few notes here and there. And I'm not sure my sound was quite right, I think it needed a hair more midrange."

I frowned. What an ass he was.

"I didn't notice a single missed note, Jaune. Remember, I have perfect pitch, I know when notes are missed, and I'm telling you, you didn't miss any."

"No, right in the-" he paused and grabbed the guitar again, and spun the volume knob back up, but only about halfway. "Right where it goes- ~Can't think of anything to do, yeah~ the second time, I played it like this, which is wrong."

He strummed through the second pre-chorus, which was F-sharp followed by A. I tilted my head to hear better, a gesture we all seem to do despite having the same amount of hearing ability whether our heads are upright or not.

"That sounds right to me."

"No, no, It's supposed to be-"

He played it again, this time omitting the first and second strings from the strumming pattern. I rolled my eyes and dramatically dropped my sticks out of my hands.

"Oh, please, so you played the chords as you learned them, what's the big deal?"

"Because it's supposed to be somewhere between an F Sharp 5, and an F sharp suspended, kind of, and an A without the high E. Like, they don't really have a name for that kind of chord, so I wanna go with… like a reduced chord? I know that's not a thing, but that's what my head wants to say."

I sat up and crossed my arms.

"I mean, you're right, but what's your point?"

"The point is," he said, his voice getting slightly agitated, "It's supposed to have that choked-up feel. It's punk-rock, it's not rock and roll. It's fast and incomplete, that's the idea. It's just, I got to the second pre-chorus and while I was singing, my hands didn't listen to my brain and played the chords wrong."

I laughed, looking away and out the window. Jaune was, and frankly still is, so goddamn irritating when it comes to music. It has to be perfect. It has to be right. Even when the music is designed to be played imperfectly. The imperfections must be perfect.

"Look, why don't we ask the audience, yeah?" I turned to our teacher, lounged out in his chair at his desk. "Mr. Fernbank?"

He sighed and slung his arms over the arms of his chair.

"Phenomenal. Goddamn phenomenal."

I turned back to Jaune.

"Told you."

"How am I supposed to even mark you kids in class?"

Jaune and I both turned back to the teacher, who's exasperated sigh hadn't gone away.

"What do you mean?" Jaune asked, fiddling with the tuning on the guitar.

Mr. Fernbank gestured towards us.

"Like, obviously the two of you understand musical theory, and obviously you know how to play your instruments, better than anyone I've ever taught in this classroom. The only thing I noticed that went wrong in that song is that, Weiss, you sped up at the end of the first verse for like, half a beat, and on the next measure you were right back on time and you stayed on tempo for the rest of the song."

I shrunk down on myself. I suppose a man with forty years of musical training might have noticed my slip up after all.

"Yeah, I did."

"What am I supposed to do with you two? It would be unfair to the rest of the students to give you hundreds, but it would be unfair to the two of you to compare you to them. You two consistently turn in assignments that are hundreds and you just played 'Fell In Love With a Girl' like you were The White Stripes. It's so aggravating."

Jaune coughed into his hand and fiddled with a melody on the guitar, volume turned down. I could only hear the dull ringing of the strings but it sounded like a blues variation of Black Betty, which is already pretty bluesy. I bit my lip and looked as sorry as I could.

"Sorry."

At this moment, the music room door flew open and the other music teacher, Miss Cappella, stuck her head in the door. The look on her face was neither angry nor distraught, but it did give me the vibe of 'prepare to apologize again'. Her voice was, in a word, shrill.

"I was just in a meeting down the hall, and we were just interrupted by a live White Stripes concert?!"

She looked to myself and Jaune, the only two people in the room even remotely close to instruments. I tried to turn invisible. I was not successful, judging by her accusatory glare.

"See, I told you!" Mr. Fernbank almost yelled, his arms coming up dramatically.

Miss Cappella turned her attention to our teacher for a moment, her face contorting into what seemed to be a confused frown, before turning back to us.

"Wait, that was the two of you?"

Jaune nodded. I couldn't, I was trying to become with my own ribcage. "Yeah."

"You're serious, you weren't like, just playing a record really loud in here?"

Mr. Fernbank chuckled. I'm glad this was funny to him.

"No, that was all them."

She turned back to us, her glare softening and a look of amazement replacing it.

"Holy shit, that was amazing, then!" she quickly covered her mouth. "Oop, pardon my language."

"These two are ridiculously fantastic musicians, it's offensive how good they are."

"All of a sudden I'm not so upset about being interrupted in my meeting," she smiled back to us. "But is there any chance you two could maybe turn it down a little after, say, eight-thirty in the morning? There's faculty meetings starting."

I nodded. Well, less a nod and more a tiny shake of my body, as I had retracted my head into my neck like a turtle in embarrassment.

"Sorry."

Miss Cappella grinned again and waved it off.

"The two of you wouldn't happen to know 'Hardest Button to Button', would you?"

Neither of us answered out loud, but I did catch Jaune turn his guitar back up. This renewed my confidence, and I immediately started to thump out the bass drum at a hundred and twenty-eight beats per minute. Jaune followed, playing the intro melody while maintaining eye contact and a cheeky smile with Miss Cappella. I added in the low tom as he continued the melody, adjusting his tone knobs between strums, settling on the grunge tone favoured by Jack White. Just before we got into the chorus, we both stopped on the same beat and looked to the teachers.

"The two of you better be performing at the Christmas show." Miss Cappella said, pointing accusingly.

Jaune shrugged.

"We'll see."

"You better."

She did the 'look-at-me look-at-you look-at-me' thing with her fingers, and turned and left the room, door closing behind her. Jaune and I looked to each other, dumb grins on our faces.

"Well that happened" I said, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind my ear.

Jaune nodded.

"Yeah. Did… did you wanna finish the song? 'Cause I don't actually know the words."

"Heh, I don't actually know the fuckin' drum rhythm, we would have been lost immediately.

"I mean, we could learn it."

"Yeah, bit I mean, do we want more White Stripes in our repertoire? I mean, I guess we can't really play anything else, there's only the two of us. So it would have to be that or, like, Seven Nation Army." I paused. "No, wait, that's two guitarists, isn't it."

"No, I can do that."

I frowned. "How?"

"My dad got me a looping pedal for my birthday."

"Oh, yeah, right. Have you figured out how to use it yet?"

Jaune smiled, and for a brief moment, I was impressed.

"No." he chuckled.

And then I wasn't. I rolled my eyes, and slid my drumsticks into the bucket next to the kick drum.

"Alright, whatever. We'll figure somethin' out. Probably. What do you think we should play?"

I watched him fiddle with a few chords, guitar turned down for a second.

"What about… The Middle?"

"That's two guitar parts, isn't it?"

"Yeah, in the bridge. What is the bridge for that song? A and D?"

I leaned back on the stool and put my left hand on an invisible keyboard and played the song in my head, letting my fingers do what they wanted along with it.

"Yeah, A-D, A-D, G-D, A."

"Okay, so I'll pre-record it on the looping pedal, and then just play over it."

"Kay, but what about the little synth bit just after the bridge?"

"Set up a keyboard next to the drumset, just switch to it for that one part."

I gave him a concerned glare.

"That's a lot of work. What about that, uh, Third Eye Blind song. Semi-Charmed Life or whatever?"

Jaune kind of grimaced.

"That song's about meth addiction, we can't do that at school. I like the song, but it's not appropriate."

"True. What about Enter Sandman?"

"That's cliche, and I don't like Metallica. How about You Oughta Know, and I'll make you sing?"

I sputtered.

"I can't sing and play drums, you know that."

"That song has profanity in it, can't let you do that." Mr. Fernbank interrupted from his desk.

Honestly, I was relieved, I wasn't interested in singing in front of people. At least playing drums I could hide behind rock and roll hair thrashing. Jaune nodded to himself and continued with the suggestions.

"Mr. Jones, then?"

"I love that song. But that's two guitar parts, too."

"Shit."

I shrugged.

"Scar Tissue?"

"I think it would feel thin without the bass part. We could do When I Come Around. There's enough guitar in that song to hide the missing bass line."

"That's not a bad idea. I-"

Jaune snapped his fingers, and I jumped. Like, a foot.

"I got it."

After settling back down and shaking the ringing out of my ears from his universe-destroying snap, I raised an eyebrow at him. My favourite thing to do.

"You got what?"

"We do that Bonnie Raitt song."

I blinked, dumbly.

"You mean… Something To Talk About? I just told you I can't sing and play drums at the same time."

"No, no, I'll sing it. We'll do it like, the man's side of Bonnie Raitt's version."

My eye twitched, and I was almost forced to chuckle.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it's a great song."

I was dumbfounded.

"You know what that song's about, right?"

Jaune nodded. I waited with extremely baited breath for what he was about to say.

"Yeah, it's about two people who don't realize they're in love with each other, and then by the end of the song, they do. Besides, check it out."

He turned his guitar back up and played the intro lick, bending the strings onto their correct notes, since he didn't have a slide. I sighed and stood up from the kit, walked around to him, and flipped his amp off. He didn't stop strumming, grooving along to the song in his head.

"Jaune, d'you- do you really think you're the kind of person who should be singing a song about two people falling in love who don't realize it?"

"Yeah, why not, it's a great song."

"Ugh." I turned away from him and began my march to the door. "C'mon, asshole, it's like ten to nine, we should go to class."

He stopped strumming.

"What? What did I say?"

I laughed and flipped him off.

"Nothing, just c'mon. We're gonna be late."

"Arright, whatever."

Jackass.

/.../

The end of the day snuck up on us quick. Almost as quick as I snuck up on Emerald, busy with something in her locker.

"Bon après-midi, mon cœur."

She jolted to attention, freezing up. Her head turned a slow ninety degrees to glare at me, only to find my gorgeous self leaned up against the locker two over from hers. Her shoulders fell and her jaw unclenched, releasing a sigh.

"Bonne journée, Weiss. What's with you and sneaking up on me."

I shrugged.

"I'm hoping to one day catch you doing something you're not supposed to, or something you'd be viscerally embarrassed by."

"Like what, hanging out with you?"

I was shocked. Shocked and appalled!

"Emerald!" I fake cried. "Why would you say that?!"

She laughed, which was my intention all along.

"Calm down, you big baby. Where's uh… where's Part Two?"

I rubbed my ear and squinted.

"I dunno, around somewhere. I dunno what class he has sixth period. Speaking of, where the hell were you all day?"

"I had an exam to do."

"You had an- what?"

"Yeah. I had a medical exam this morning."

I relaxed a hair.

"Oh. Are you sick?"

"Yeah, sick of being confined to the ground with the rest of you mortals."

I was, in a word, confused.

"Huh?"

"I have to submit to a medical examination before I can get my VFR."

"Oh, shit, that's cool. When are you taking your VFR?"

"In June. I've been studying a lot."

"I hope so. How's flying with your dad been treating ya?"

Em chucked and pulled her satchel out of her locker and slung it on. I turned and fiddled with the lock on my locker, which was of course the one saddled between hers and Jaune's. My lock jammed twice before I got it open, and I slung the door open with a bang.

"It's pretty cool."

"I bet."

"We've been going up in his One-Fifty-Two every weekend. He's even let me actually fly by myself the last few times. I'm not allowed to land and take off yet, since he's not actually an instructor, but when we're up he gives me full control of the yoke and the pedals. I still need to start logging hours."

"That's fuckin' rad."

"Damn right. He's got his eyes on a PA-32 'cause he wants to be able to take my mom and Stripes with us up in the air, and there's one for sale over in Rockcliffe."

I pulled my backpack out and slid it on, grabbing my unused sweater off the hook at the back of the locker.

"Expensive?"

"About fifty."

I coughed into my fist.

"That's a lot of money! That's a new car!"

Emmy shrugged.

"New, they're like, two thirty-five. Fifty for a used one ain't bad. Besides, it's gonna be the plane I have to learn to fly in. It's much newer and much nicer than his One-Fifty-Two, which is from nineteen seventy-seven. It's running out its usable flight hours."

"What happens when it does?"

"What happens to a car when it's not usable anymore?"

I paused, not expecting my question to be answered with a question. If she wasn't so interested in being a pilot, she'd make a great lawyer.

"Scrap yard."

"Same thing with planes. It'll get condemned to a junk heap and all its useful parts picked off until it's just a bare fuselage and wing struts."

"Huh. I guess I never thought about what happens to planes when they finally die."

"Wouldn't expect you to. What're you gonna do when your car bites the dust?"

I smacked her on the arm.

"Em, I've had that car for two days, don't talk like that!"

She laughed. The gall of this woman, I swear. It's a good thing she's hot, or she wouldn't be able to get away with all the shit I let her get away with.

"Chillax, man, I'm kidding of course."

I frowned and crossed my tiny, skinny arms.

"It didn't feel like it. And I was gonna tell you I liked your dress, now I don't wanna."

To be fair, unfortunately, it was a very nice dress. Dark green short-sleeve shirtwaist dress with darker green plaid patterning, it matched her exceedingly expensive black knee-highs terribly well. I was always jealous of her impeccable taste and the infinitely deep pockets of her parents. I mean, come on, my scrawny ass was still slumming it in jeans and college hoodies from uOttawa that my sister bought for me at that age. Not that I minded, I liked comfy hoodies. I just also wanted to dress up a little sometimes, but couldn't. Unlike my fashionable companion.

Emmy smirked at me.

"Good thing you didn't, you might have gotten somewhere with me."

"Emerald, I love your dress," I immediately deadpanned with a wink and a very coy smile.

She beamed.

"Thanks, it has pockets!"

And of course, as everyone does, she stuck her hands in them to show them off.

"You've been waiting all day to say that, haven't you?"

"You're damn right."

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes, turning around and leaning my shoulder into hers.

"You're a goof, Emerald."

"I know. Here, let me just close your locker for you, dipshit."

She closed and locked it, pushing me away from her. Playfully, of course.

"Thanks, babe."

"Nuisance."

"Yep. Let's go find Jaune."

"Alright, whatever."

"You should hold my hand," I said, extending it to her. "S'you don' get lost."

"What was the thing I just called you?"

I chuckled, but I noticed that she didn't actually refuse my offer, taking my hand and lacing her fingers neatly into mine.

"You love me."

"Yeah, sure, but still. You're a fuckin' nuisance."

"Yeah, I know. C'mon."

I skipped towards the staircase, dragging my long-legged friend along behind. Back when we were children, this would be funny, since we were the same height, she would stumble and complain. Now, Emerald was getting on seven inches taller than me, it took her no more than two steps of her deliciously muscled legs and she was able to catch up to my stride. Why can't we go back to the old days where everyone was younger and shorter than me? It's unfair, now. Everyone is taller, and sexier, and more mature. I just just wanna get in pillow fights and win now and then. You know?

We found Jaune in his usual after-school hiding spot, the cafeteria's back corner, his bag splayed up on the table, several notebooks strewn across it. He seemed busy. Which made him a target.

"Hey, Em, look, a nerd."

Jaune looked up for a second, rolled his eyes and sat back on the bench. Em and I approached the table, and did our best 'Mean Girls' poses. Em licked the corner of her mouth and smirked.

"A cute one, too."

Jaune sighed and put his hands behind his head.

"Ladies. Always a pleasure. To what do I owe it today?"

"The two of us, for a start." I quipped, snapping my fingers.

"That can always be arranged." he smirked. I raised an eyebrow, as if to challenge him. "The two of you eloping or something?"

He gestured at our hands. I looked down at them, blushed briefly, and looked back up at him.

"Yes, Emerald and I are in love. We're running away to Japan, far away from our families and anyone who might say otherwise."

Jaune nodded.

"That's a great idea. I hear Japan is nice this time of year. Although it's apparently nicer in April, during the cherry blossom festival. You should elope then."

I frowned.

"Yeah, but in April we'll both be adults, then we can't elope."

He smirked.

"Yeah, but you could watermelon. Or Honeydew."

I squinted at him, confused by his response.

"Wh-what? What the hell does that mean?"

Emerald laughed. Like, one of those 'oh, you're an idiot' laughs. And it was directed at me!

"You said 'cantaloupe'."

As soon as the joke clicked in my head, I scoffed, and pushed Em's hand out of mine in a huff.

"Oh, fuck off, you two. You're so mean."

Em put her arm around my waist and pulled me against her. Try as I might, this was not a grip I could usually struggle my way out of. Same deal today, I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Sucks." she said, a hint of laughing at me again in her voice. She turned her attention to Jaune, who was in the process of cleaning up his stuff. "You ready to go home?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "I didn't have anything else planned today."

"Do you normally plan to stay at school on a Friday?" Em pushed, her snark levels rising dangerously.

Fortunately, Jaune was the master of mitigating the snark. By throwing it right back.

"Yes, actually, Emerald, I usually plan to remain trapped in this building over the weekend, free to roam to my goblin heart's content, free of obligation and societal burdens."

We all gave this a good chuckle, as Jaune finally stood up from the bench and picked up his backpack.

"In short, I am ready to go."

"Great!" Em chipped. "Which one of you drove here this morning?"

"I did," I said, putting my arm around her waist.

"Ooh, I finally get a ride in your new car. I'm excited."

And then, no word of a lie, this is a thing that happened to me, in a public place, she slid her hand down my back and grabbed my butt. I was shocked, but I kept my shock internal. Anybody else in the school, I would have probably yelped, including my blond second-in-command. But only because that would be wildly out of character for him, not because I wouldn't want him to do so. And if you have comprehended anything that I have said up to this point, you'll understand exactly why.

I mean, I don't mind Emerald hellaciously flirting with me in public, in fact we encourage it of each other. If this was the lengths she was willing to go, I wasn't going to just stand there and let her one up me like that, oh had triggered something within me, in one of the deeper, eviler subsidiaries of my brain that wasn't going to let her get away with this unscathed. Said thoughts were put on a backburner. Anyway, the aforementioned butt-grab lasted only one squeeze, which caused me to jolt to attention, a dumb smile on my dumb face, and watch Jaune saunter lazily around the bench towards the door. I cleared my throat.

"It's no big deal, it's just a car, man."

Em turned us and guided me towards Jaune and the exit. Our pace was slow. Relaxed.

"Yeah, one you have been talking at excruciating lengths about for the past two weeks, if it's not fuckin' made of gold and hovering, I'm gonna be fuckin' disappointed."

"Well, at least you have realistic expectations."

Out of nowhere, Em had put on a pair of sunglasses. And you wouldn't have guessed, they were Aviators.

"Always."

We pushed our ways out into the September sun, Jaune about a step and a half ahead of Em and I on account of how we were, almost literally, attached at the hip. As we crossed the courtyard at the most leisurely of paces, Jaune turned to address us, walking backwards with more grace that I could even muster going forwards, the dick.

"Emerald, I got a question for ya."

"Hit me." She said, on reflex.

"What's the greatest rock song of the last twenty years."

Emerald stopped, making me stumble. Good thing she was holding on to me, then.

"Greatest rock song?"

"Yeah. Weiss and I were having a discussion earlier."

Em's face contorted a few different ways as the question turned around in her head a few times.

"I dunno," she settled on. "What do you quantify as rock music? Hard Rock? Alternative? Metal? What parameters am I working within?"

Jaune pursed his lips. So did I, actually. This question hadn't come up when we were discussing it, we had defaulted to Alternative.

"Let's say Alt-Rock or Hard Rock."

Em put her hand on her hip and stared off over the parking lot.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit?"

I nodded.

"That's a good song, Jaune."

"I know, I know, but that's more than two parts. If we had a bass player, absolutely, I'm on board."

"Oh, I get it, this is for the two of you to play at the Christmas show."

"Yeah, you got it."

"How about Sex and Candy?"

I chuckled.

"One of each, please."

Jaune frowned.

"That's too mellow. And keep it in your pants, Weiss. I want a song that will blow the goddamn roof off the auditorium."

Emerald paused again, still smirking at my remark. I didn't blame her, it was friggin' genius.

"How about Basket Case?"

"Ooh." Jaune squinted, pointing. "Ooh, we could do that. We could totally do that, that's fantastic!"

I played the song in my head for a second.

"That's three parts, though, Jaune."

"No no, I can do that. Clever use of hammer-ons and I can put the bass riff in, too. I like that suggestion, give me more, c'mon."

"Uhh, what about What's The Frequency, Kenneth?"

Jaune looked pained for a second as he too, was playing the songs in his head. This is an affliction for us musicians. It's not just listening to music in our heads, but the individual musical parts and figuring out how to string them all together, in our heads.

"Nah, you need the bassline for that. There's a whole thing about the bassline for that song. You ever notice that it slows down at the end? The last, like, four beats of the song?"

"I guess so?" Em said, scratching her head.

"D'you know why?"

"I dunno, it fits the song?"

Jaune pointed.

"Funny story, it's actually the bassist, Mike Mills, suffering from appendicitis during the recording, and everyone else just sorta followed him as he slowed down. And then they never re-recorded it because it sounded great. Besides, the baseline in that song is iconic, I can't play it without it."

Em groaned.

"That wasn't a funny story at all!"

Jaune sheepishly chuckled and rubbed his neck.

"Sorry."

"You better be." I chimed, mirroring Em's hand on hip posture. "How about Killing In The Name Of? That's pretty rock and roll."

"That's multiple parts we don't have. And you remember what Mr. Fernbank said about profanity."

I scoffed. "Yeah, the point of the song is to rage against authority, we should do it anyway."

"I like your reasoning, but I don't want to get in trouble."

I snickered.

"Some rebel you are. What about like, uh, All The Small Things?"

"A little too punk-pop, but I think we're on the right track." he sniffled, his hand automatically forming chords against his hip.

Em scratched her nose and squinted.

"What's that one… Sum 41 song? The music video they're at a pool or something?"

"Oh, jeez, uh…" Jaune paused. "...No, I can hear the melody in my head… It's like…"

He hummed the melody for a second, and played the notes on his invisible guitar. I always wondered what brand Jaune's air guitar was. Probably a les Paul. Actually, knowing him, probably a Gibson Explorer. I knew what song Emmy was referring to was, In Too Deep, I just wanted to see if Jaune would get there too.

"Uh, it's In Too Deep, which is a great song, don't get me wrong, but again, it's pop-punk."

Em scoffed.

"If you want Rock and Roll so much, why not just play AC/DC, like Shook Me All Night Long or something. Or Thunderstruck if you want to show off."

"He does like showing off." I quipped, smirking.

"I'm not sure I could sing and do that solo at the same time."

"What about Layla? I know you can play that and sing it at the same time."

Jaune shrugged.

"I'd want another guitarist and maybe a keyboardist for the second half of the song. See, what I'm really looking for is a rock song I can pare down to its absolute fundamentals, that everybody knows and likes, and we can wow the socks off everyone in that tiny auditorium. I want them to leave with ears ringing."

"I can respect that," she said, nodding. "But why not something calmer? I like rock music just as much as the next guy, but c'mon, I don't want to be injured while watching you guys."

"So what would you recommend?" he asked, with a shake of his head.

"I unno. Head Over Feet?"

I perked up. Really? Another request like that?

"Weiss said she can't sing and play drums."

"No, no." she said, pointing a long slender finger towards his nose. "You sing."

"You want me to sing like Alanis or you want me to sing like me? My range isn't as wide as you think it is."

Em smirked and balled up a fist. Playfully, of course.

"I could come over there and make it higher."

Jaune backed up a step. Understandable, to be honest.

"No, please. Please."

"I'm just messin' with you, kid. C'mon, we should go. Does Weiss have to go to work tonight?"

I nodded, receiving an affectionate side-squeeze.

"Yeah, but at five. Gotta go home and change first."

We started to walk towards the parking lot, past the small congregation of benches in the courtyard. There was a group of guys occupying them, that we elected to ignore, on account of how they appeared to be as stereotypical 'tough guy' as you could get. Well, save for one, who was reading a novel, with no dust jacket. He seemed kind of familiar, but I couldn't place it. The red mohawk was throwing me off.

"Is my babe gonna be hoisting tires tonight?"

I shrugged. "Gotta do that every day, Emmy."

"Gonna get big and strong like me soon, eh?"

"That, or a rack is gonna fall on me and squish me down another few inches."

"I trust that you'll be nimble enough to get out of the way in time. You took gymnastics for like, what, three years?"

I smirked, slid my hand down Em's back, and grabbed her butt through her dress. Now, I gotta say, off all the butts I have grabbed in my life, Emerald's probably takes up seven or maybe eight of the top ten slots on my list of favourite butts. Sorry, Jaune. She looked down at me me, a shocked but amused expression on her face, to which I returned a playful smirk and a wink.

"Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Fuckin' Dykes..."

Now, I'm sure something else was said after this point, but I stopped listening after the slur. Almost like clockwork Emerald let go of my hip and turned to the source of the noise, as Jaune. I could hear their anger. Thing is, Angry Emerald scares me. You don't understand just how quickly she can go from sassy, chesty, goth best friend to six-foot-tall, cut, threatening monster. Emerald towered over this group of boys, and instilled a newfound fear of god in at least one of them, and her tone of voice certainly enforced that fear.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

The one with his book was completely oblivious as Small Dog Syndrome, Personified got up off the bench and approached Emerald. He was a few inches shorter, even without the one inch heel in her boots, and kind of chubby. Like a freshman who hadn't lost his elementary school weight, despite being in grade twelve. Emerald's glare bore into him like a laser.

"The fuck did you just say to me."

"You heard me," he dared. "PDA's are gross. Find a room or some shit, dyke."

"You're fuckin' brave, aren't you. Just 'cause a woman's never put her hands on you, gives you the right to say shit like that when they put hands on each other?"

This irritating problem got right up in her face. She didn't back up, but she did move her head back and wrinkle her nose up.

"You can't say that shit to me, bitch. I've fucked more girls than you ever will."

"Mm, bet you haven't. And back up, you smell like a diseased cabbage patch."

This was apparently significantly more insulting than anything else anyone had ever said to this boy, and he wound up his arms to shove her. Of course, he didn't get the chance, as hand caught his momentum on his shoulder. It was the boy with the book, now standing, and only having just caught on to the situation at hand. He seemed mad, but not us.

"Bryce, leave it. What the fuck is wrong with you?" the boy almost shouted. "You want to get suspended the first week of school?"

"You saw what the fuck those dykes were doing."

This seemed to anger the boy, his jaw clenching and turning his cheeks a shade of red to match his hair.

"No, I didn't, because I was minding my own business, like you should have been. And gay slurs? Really? What are you, fuckin', twelve? Grow the fuck up."

The problem turned and glared at his lackey.

"Fuck you, Russ. You a fuckin' faggot too?"

I frowned. The name was also familiar. I studied the boy's features more closely as the altercation ramped up significantly. And I mean really significantly.

"Why, are you interested?"

"Fuck you!"

Bryce threw a punch at his lackey, and missed as the boy stepped just to the side. Bryce's momentum carried him forward over an extended leg, tripping him down to the pavement in a flurry of curses and homophobic slurs.

"Rather not, thanks."

Bryce stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off. He pointed menacingly at us. Well, as menacing as one can be, when you're shorter than and physically weaker than those who you are trying to intimidate.

"This isn't over, fags."

"Yeah it is. Walk away."

"Fuck you," he turned to the last remaining member of his posse. "C'mon, Tanner, let's leave these fags to fuck each other."

"Actually, my mom's here." Tanner said, picking up his bag and walking towards the parking lot. "Sorry, dude."

"Fuck you too, then!"

He stormed off, kicking a garbage can over. That was gonna be his problem to clean up, when we all collectively snitched on him later. The boy with the mohawk just sighed and dropped his shoulders.

"You think you know someone…" he turned back to us. "Sorry about that."

It clicked in my mind. My eyes went super wide.

"Russel?"

He blinked, as it clearly just clicked in his, too.

"W-Weiss?"

"Russel!"

"Oh my god, Weiss!"

I couldn't believe it. This tough, rough-looking punk kid in the grey tank top and chain-covered jeans was none other than Russel Thrush. I literally lept at him, ignoring any consequences.

"Russel!"

Luckily, he caught me, as my hug landed like a cruise missile against his chest.

"Holy shit-" the air left his lungs as I collided with him. "Oh my god, Weiss. And… Emerald? And… Jaune?"

I let go and held him at arm's length.

"Yeah, man, it's us! Where the fuck have you been for five years?!"

He stuttered as he took us all in. He seemed to be suffering an information overload.

"Uhh, uh- sch- school, in the east end."

Jaune approached and clapped Russ on the shoulder.

"The hell are you doing back here, dude?"

Russel nearly stumbled as Emerald also nearly jumped him to the ground.

"Ack- uh, we moved back to Barrhaven in August. So this is the school I have to go to now."

"You say 'have to' like this isn't a choice, Russ." I chimed, shaking him by his arms. Which were a lot thicker than I remember them being. Granted, Russel was also now five foot ten, so with height comes size for most people.

"Well, at first it was something I was upset about because I was going to lose… a friend at Canterbury, but having you guys back all of a sudden changes everything."

"You're fuckin' right it does." I squeezed him again. "We missed you, asshole."

He smiled. I forgot how adorable Russel's dimples were.

"I missed you guys too."

I sniffled and had to wipe a real, genuine tear from the corner of my good eye. I cleared my throat.

"So you wanna explain what the fuck that nonsense was back there with those dicks?"

He waved a hand in concession.

"I figured I would be better off with a crew in a new school, those are just the kids from one of my classes. Figured I knew them better than that. I was wildly wrong."

"Well, good thing your old crew came to save you."

He scoffed.

"If anything, I saved you guys from a world of trouble."

"We would have handled it." Em quipped, crossing her arms.

"Emmy, if-" Russel paused, noticing the definition in Em's biceps and forearms. "-Goodness, me, I think you would have punched his head off. Do you work out?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Which gym are you with?"

"Goodlife over by the grocery store."

He paused again.

"...D'you wanna go later?"

Em's eyebrow raised.

"You're asking me on a gym date? You haven't seen me for five years and the first thing you do is ask me on a gym date?"

Russel seemed a little embarrassed. Jaune and I snickered from the sidelines.

"Well… no one goes with me anymore, so-"

"Of course I'll go with you, Russel. Jeez, c'mon."

She put her arm around his neck and held him tight.

"Ack-"

"You guys mind if I come too?" Jaune asked.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Weiss'll be busy all night, so she can't join us, but you're welcome to come."

Russ turned to me, head still trapped.

"Don't like the gym?"

I sighed. "No, I have to go to work. But Canadian Tire is a workout in itself."

"Oh, that sucks. You can come with us next time, though."

"Thanks for the consideration," I said, sarcastically and monotone. "Do you need a ride home, Russel?"

He shrugged as Em let him go.

"If you're offering, that would be nice. I was just gonna take the 173 back to Riocan."

I smirked.

"Well, c'mon, then. You can see my new car."

"Oh, you bought a car?"

"Oh yeah. I bought the best car."

"Lead the way, then."

So, because we're extra as hell, Em and I grabbed him by his hands and took off skipping towards the parking lot. Now, if you've ever skipped, and I'm sure you have, you'll know it gets harder when you're holding someone's hand. And then that difficulty mounts the shorter you are in comparison to your skipping partner. So imagine the difficulty I was having, even though I was keeping up, skipping along attached to two people who were nearly a foot taller than me. I could hear Jaune laughing in the background, the fool he was, as he jogged to keep pace.

We slowed as we crossed the parking lot, the two taller people in our bundle realizing that extra-long strides were going to cause knee problems for me later in life, and we reduced our speed to a mere walk. Of course, I still had to take longer strides than them, but that's not strictly important.

"So what am I looking for?" Russ asked, flicking his head to the side to chase away a bang that wasn't behaving anymore.

"That tired old BMW right there, my friend." I pointed at the car reversed in between an Accord and a Camry, both grey and featureless.

"Ooh, an E34, that's pretty slick."

"Trust me, it gets better."

"Shotgun!" Emerald yelled, letting go of Russ's hand and jogging to the side of the car. "Suckers!"

"Take it all you want, Em." Jaune said, stepping around me and reaching for the driver's side rear door. "Most legroom in the car is behind Weiss."

Russel looked confused as he shuffled past Em and reached the rear passenger door.

"Why's that?"

In lieu of an answer, Jaune just put his hand over my head, demonstrating the reason. Russ, clicked his tongue and smirked.

"Ah, gotcha."

I elbowed Jaune in the ribs, and unlocked the car. We all sort of fell in in unison, rocking the car's worn suspension back and forth. I reached up and readjusted the mirror, as it tended to drift slightly down during the day for some reason, and caught a glimpse of Jaune, relaxed and reclined in the seat behind mine.

"All good back there, boys?"

"More than," Jaune sighed. "This car is lux."

"Glad you think so. Seatbelts."

There were four clicks. I turned the key, and the car's big six cylinder purred into life. I could see Russ's face contort, confused.

"That's awful aggressive. Is this… is this an M5?"

I smiled and bit my lip.

"Maybe."

"Holy shit. How the hell did you get one of these?!"

"By accident?"

"No fuckin' way…"

Jaune leaned over to him.

"It's the truth dude, total fluke. Found the right seller, the right car, the right price, by accident."

"That's cool as hell, and I thought my mark two GTi was a cool find. This thing is Rock and Roll as hell, Weiss. Good find."

"Hey, speaking of Rock and roll-"

"Ugh." Jaune groaned in the back seat.

I continued, shooting him a look. He knew the one. I pulled the car carefully out of the parking spot. It was a lot bigger than you might imagine. Not as big as the Catalina, mind you, but still imposing.

"Speaking of Rock and Roll, Russel, what is in your opinion, the greatest rock and roll song in the last 20 years?"

The answer came quickly, and without hesitation.

"In Bloom."

"Wow, really? Okay, I like that song. Jaune?"

He sighed and turned to Russel.

"We're playing in the Christmas concert, and we're trying to figure out what to play. Everyone's been recommending songs with more than two parts, and we don't know any other musicians."

"I was the kit drummer at Canterbury for their Jazz band."

"Nah, we already have-"

I interrupted.

"You any good, Russ?"

"Have to be good to get that part."

"You wanna join our band?"

He nodded with a grin.

"You know what, I would love to."

Jaune kicked the back of my seat. Right between gear changes, too, so I almost ground fourth to a fine powder. He's lucky I was driving, or I would have probably dropped the backrest of my seat into his lap.

"What the hell are you gonna play then, Weiss?"

I shrugged.

"I've been learning guitar, and that was supposed to be a surprise for you."

"Colour me surprised, then. Neat. Okay. Okay, we can work with this. If we can get the three of us together, we can pull off something fantastic. You guys cool with that?"

"Hell yeah."

"Definitely."

"You guys are cute," Em said, bemused and leaning against the window.

"Damn right we are." I smacked her on the arm.

Damn right we were. The band was back together. And we couldn't be goddamn happier.