Kitty – Chapter 2

"Michael! Pay attention and follow the sheets, not your own little whims."

I scowled at the carpet, Mr. Colman was the worst conductor ever, and not just because he was a prick. No, he was just bad at it. He handed out sheafs of music (all very simple 'cause we were high school students and of course wouldn't be able to handle anything remotely complicated) and expected us to stick so completely to the papers that if we even went a tiny bit off course it was like blasphemy, or something.

I hated that.

I play bass, not guitar, but a big double bass, ska punk style y'know? I love how it sounds, all deep and vibrating in my ears, kinda tickles my soul, it's hard to explain. I could spend hours plucking out rhythms, just get lost in the flow. That's why I hate Mr. Colman's rigors, he didn't let the music flow through him, he just let it settle, brushing it away like an annoying gnat. I doubt there was a creative bone in his body.

It took me a while to save up for my bass, I worked a shift at one of the local Starbucks (who were oddly tolerant of the ear thing, they hire a lot of weird people there, so I guess my need to look like a cat wasn't too far up that list) a few summers back to get her. And I love her like a child, maybe more, I named her Aberrant, because I'm a nerd at heart and maybe a tad melodramatic. Aberrant has the most beautiful red and white rising sun graphic, and I take great pains to keep her shining and sounding just as wonderful as the day I rescued her from the shop.

I plucked along with the music, frowning at the black notes, fingers itching to go faster, make more of a melody. But before I lost to the impulses once more, there was a knock at the classroom door.

A boy with blond hair and slouched posture was hustled into the room by a flustered secretary.

"Mr. Colman, I have a new student for you." and without further ado she disappeared back to whatever was making her hair stick out in such an awfully messy manner; I hate messy hair.

The new guy sorta just studied the carpet, almost hiding behind his hair (which was beautifully clean and brushed out nicely) but not really, 'cause you could tell he was too cool for that. It was almost as if he could force people to ignore him rather than blending in himself, it was interesting to say the least.

Everyone was staring now, though the room could have been empty for all the attention he paid them. Only moving when Colman motioned him forward with an annoyed grunt and jerk of baton.

"What instrument?" trust nice, welcoming teacher to ask what the new boy played before his name. I snorted involuntarily, thankfully it was a quiet noise.

Not soft enough, apparently, 'cause I suddenly found myself being scrutinized by sharp blue eyes. It made me feel nervous and I wanted to pat down my hair or something, even though I knew it was in perfect shape under my hat. The feeling only lasted a few seconds, before there was a flash of smile and the guy was again facing Colman.

"Drums."

He voice had the same weird, ear-happy pitch as Aberrant, it kinda scared me a little; made me want to scratch at my head or curl up in a ball with my tail wrapped safely 'round.

Mr. Colman gave the guy a slight sneer, which wasn't so surprising, only the slackers and jocks played percussion. But before anything else could be said, the bell rang. And in the chaos that followed I quickly packed away Aberrant and bolted out that room as fast as I could. I needed to distance myself from that kid, not completely sure why, just that I had to.

It was lunch next, thankfully, and I grabbed my brown bag outta my locker and headed for my regular table.

Frank was already there when I slipped into my seat. It wasn't as if I didn't have friends, I had lots. But they were all in-school, I didn't hang out with them outside of the state mandated hours. Except for Frankie that is, but only occasionally. We became friends mostly because we both shared similar special interests, and I'm not talking about music here.

"Hey Mikeyway, you look a bit pale. What's up?" he asked around a celery stick, a bit of peanut butter on the corner of his mouth made me feel twitchy; stupid cat tendencies.

"There's a new guy in my music class."

That got his attention,

"Ooh, is he hot?" I nodded before I could think better of it, I hadn't realized I was able to process information like that with so many other things racing through my head; but he was though, really fucking hot. I think that freaked me out just a little bit more.

Frank was about to barrage me with questions and pleas for details, I could tell 'cause you could almost see the excitement buzzing through him. Frankie could got excited about sleeping so I guess you never really knew.

He was interrupted though,

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" I didn't have to look up to know that voice, but I did anyway; cheeks flushing to my eternal embarrassment. Frank smiled real big, seeing the look on my face, and motioned at the empty seat between us,

"Sure buddy, mi table es tu table."

He sat, nodding his thanks.

"My name's Bob."

Frank, manwhore that he was, leaned in real close to introduce himself. Mentioning me with a dismissive wave of fingerless-gloved hand. Bob smiled at him before turning his gaze on me,

"Hello, Mikey. You're in band, aren't you?" I nodded, trying to concentrate on my food, it didn't work very well. "Nice ears, they look so real."

I flushed again and had to fight the urge to flatten them back against my head, but years of practice at hiding even the smallest of twitches had conditioned them well. Bob spent the rest of lunch pretending to have a conversation with Frankie, but I could tell his attention was focused almost fully on me.

I seriously didn't know what to do.