Page 12 of 4-Ever

“See those guys standing at the end of the hallway?” Ronin asked. “They’re gonna be in our music class this year.”

I slammed my locker shut and glanced around.

You couldn’t mistake the newcomers.

Both had long hair, like me and Ro. The first guy was tall and lean, with black wavy hair, and he wore makeup. Lots of eyeliner. Something that wasn’t allowed in school. The guy turned and met my stare head on, but I looked away, turning my attention to the one standing next to him, the blond. Both guys were wearing ripped t-shirts, jeans, and converse. The blond one was talking and waving his arms around, while the other guy smirked and leaned back against his locker, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Have you talked to them yet?”

“Nope.” Ronin shook his head. “But I heard that the dark haired one has quite a mouth on him. It’s his first day here and he already got threatened with detention from Mr. Stuart.”

Mr. Stuart was our English teacher. If you could call him that. He didn’t like helping the struggling students, aka me and Ronin. Instead, he red-lined our essays with nothing but a single mark, no feedback. I didn’t give a shit. As long as I did well enough to pass, I was good. I didn’t give a fuck about school anyway. My parents were disappointed in my grades but that was nothing new. And the older I got, the more I realized that I was never going to be like them. I’d have to forge my own path. Be bold.

Bold? Me? Yeah, I was working on that.

Speaking of bold, Ronin and I didn’t have to walk down the hallway to talk to the new guys. They headed in our direction.

“Hey, I’m Brodie.” The dark-haired one reached out with his fist. Ronin bumped it, then I followed. “This is Holloway. Cool shirts. I’ve been to concerts for both bands. They’re fucking awesome.”

I had on my favorite Foo Fighters t-shirt and Ronin, Green Day.

“Thanks,” Ronin replied in his rumbling voice. He not only looked older, but he sounded it too. “I’m Ronin, this is Faisel. Where you guys from?”

“Just outside Providence. We used to go to a private school, but I got kicked out a month ago,” Brodie smirked. “My parents shit their pants.”

“I was next to go. Or rather, I told my dad I wanted out,” Holloway shook his head. “Private school sucked. Too many rules.”

“I like your makeup, but you better watch it,” I warned. “The principal’s gonna make you take it off.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Brodie scoffed. “It’s a free country and I can do what I want.”

This guy had fucking balls. I knew right then and there that the teachers would not be able to deal with his attitude.

“Public school is still a dictatorship,” Ronin commented with a grin. “Faise and I jam after music class. You guys play?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Holloway smiled. “Brodie’s got a kick ass voice and I play guitar. Just tell us when and where.”

“Today?”

They nodded.

Brodie looked around. “Fuck, I hate school. Rules and more fucking rules. Me and Holls are gonna split town once we turn eighteen and gig across the country. Do our own thing.”

I looked at Ronin and he smiled back at me. “So are we.”

“No shit?” Brodie asked, a fire in his hazel eyes.

Ronin nodded. “I play bass, Faise, drums. We’ve been looking to form a band, but we haven’t clicked with anyone yet.”

“Are you kidding me? This is fucking perfect.” Brodie leaned in close. “How about we jam and see if it works? If it does, we find a name, and start playing local gigs.”

“But we don’t even have our own instruments yet. Well, I don’t,” Ronin replied. “I’m working a job on the weekends to save up for a guitar.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ve got instruments you can borrow for now. We can practice in my basement, it’s all set up,” Brodie added. “I’ve already got a van, an old one that my parents don’t need any more. We’re gonna fix it up and then one more fucking year and we hit the road. Wait, how old are you guys?”

“Sixteen,” I muttered. “Both of us turn seventeen in July.”

Holloway cocked his head. “Me and Brodie are the same, but in April.”

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