𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗩𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 (𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚡𝙱)

Track 25 | 𝗡𝗮𝗶𝘃𝗲

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Staring at my reflection in the clear, glossy finish of my black Fender Stratocaster, a glimmer of courage arose within me.

"Wish me luck, Dad," I muttered to myself, a heartwarming sentiment.

Zipping up the case securely with the electric guitar safely packaged inside, I picked it up and shoved my arms through the straps, wearing it like a backpack. I turned around, took a deep breath, and courageously marched onward with my head held high. Exiting my bedroom, I hopped down the stairs, aiming for the front door of my house.

Mom had trapped me within her hugging arms before I could even make it outside. With that classic, motherly 'anxious-but-hopeful' look on her face, she held up her paws, signing the simple and sweet message: "Stay safe."

There are times when I'd wish she'd say more than that. Something along the lines of, 'kill it, tonight', or 'have a great show', or at least, 'I'm proud'. But, her concern for my safety is better than nothing, so I shouldn't pry.

I nodded silently and opened the front door, heading out, starting my bike race back to school before the talent show call time. School had just ended a few minutes ago, so I had to make a quick back-and-forth mission to my house to get my guitar for the performance.

Normally, being in school after hours is a strange feeling, but as I embarked through the hallways next to the auditorium, there wasn't much different this time around. 

Except for the fact that every student here was now, noisily and obnoxiously, getting their A-game on. 

The halls were vibrantly filled with tonight's performers, all warming up for their acts, and honestly, I'd never seen our student body so goofy-looking before. I noticed some of my classmates, who I didn't expect to be here, preparing for their act in the talent show; whether it was testing their vocals for singing performances, readying equipment for magic tricks, stretching their limbs for dance numbers, testing their tubas, saxophones, and other instruments, etcetera, etcetera. I could also see some guys from the football team, plotting some sort of senior prank that they would be pulling on the stage tonight.

As I stood, amazed, at the entrance of the hallway, gawking at the chaos ensuing before me, the theater director of the high school made her way up to me, grabbing me by the shoulder.

"HEY! You're with the band, right?!" She asked with her signature loud, squeaky, high-pitched voice, handing me a slip of paper from a pile that was tucked underneath her arm. 

"Yeah, uh—" All the blaring noises around me were putting me on edge, so I didn't exactly know how to react.

"GREAT! Here's the setlist, you and your friends will be sitting in a RESERVED SPOT in the AUDITORIUM, along with EVERYONE ELSE here!" She had to practically shout over all the noise, making her energetic disposition a lot more threatening than exciting. "The show starts at FOUR-THIRTY, so you have an HOUR to get ready with your band and be SEATED, got that?!"

"O-Okay—"

"HAVE FUN!" She patted me strongly on the back, immediately tending to other students who had questions. 

Looking back at her as she ran off, an overwhelmed and uncomfortable look on my face, I instantly stared at the setlist, viewing the order of the acts. There was a total of twenty-one different acts and our band's performance would be near the end of the show. I sighed through my lips audibly, folding up the paper and shoving it in my back pocket, facing the wildly eventful hallway ahead of me. 

I shrugged and cracked my neck before heading into the belly of the beast. Making my way through the crowded hallway, almost getting run over and bumped into several times by hyperactive teenagers, I reached the double doors at the end that led back outside. Pushing my way through the doors, I found myself on the sidewalk of the backside of the high school, where Rian had told me and the others to be.