the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 9: Long Haired Lover

I borrowed Gypsy's Gibson just to show them,
And now I'm a rock and roll star, I don't want to know them;
If they want a stray they better go out and grow one,
I'm one of the boys,
One of the boys...

- "One of the Boys" Mott the Hoople, 1972

Sunday 19th October 1975

Sure that avoidance was the best policy when it came to making friends he didn't want, Remus had spent the first month and a half of school isolating himself in quiet corners and making use of the trolley as he went about the campus with his rumpled map, checking off each spot he deemed acceptable for a bit of peace. The astronomy building proved to be the perfect hide-away; the gate to the exterior fire escape was always left open and a few jiggles in the right direction with a paperclip had the observatory door practically falling open on its own.

If his roommates ever wondered where he was always disappearing to, they didn't ask, and steadily Remus' desire to disappear into the woods had ebbed. Sirius remained cool and aloof, playing his albums on a continuous loop whenever he was in the dorm room and without James and Peter around to force them to be civil, the two boys spent most classes at odds—which to Mrs. Buchanan had become an open invitation to pair them off whenever possible as though she were some satanic matchmaker.

"You honk that damn trumpet in my ear one more time and I'll—"

WAA-WAAH! "Hold on, Lupin, I can't quite hear you over the class's clamour and I prefer that any love confessions come across loud and clear!"

It was unbearable.

If Mrs. Buchanan weren't such an engaging teacher, music room #2 would've witnessed a full-out brawl at least two times a day. Outside of music class, there was always forms, and any student deemed too rowdy or too out of pocket was sent to the Bellchant building in hopes that a bit of musical therapy every other morning might straighten them out long enough to make it through the rest of their daily lessons. How Sheila Buchanan had the energy to wake up every morning, was beyond him. Luckily, it was hard for most people to object to any order she gave them, even Sirius. She was more popular and beloved than any teacher Remus had ever had, and many students appeared in her room before and after class just to say hello. By their fourth lesson every student in their class had picked a musical instrument to learn, and by a small sliver of luck in an otherwise ill-starred world, Remus was given the chance at the bass guitar.

It was a Fender '64 Jazz Bass, and it was beautiful. A few nicks and dents most-likely procured from past students and in good need of some new strings, but absolutely gorgeous. It was only the second rock and roll instrument he'd ever held in his life—Tomny knew a guy who'd pinched a music shop before getting put on ice—and he might've jumped up and down in in excitement, had he not known exactly who was sitting next to him, one perfect eyebrow raised in judgement.

"What?" Remus demanded, as he'd shot a sour look at Sirius. He himself was holding a Rickenbacker 400-series electric guitar. It was a little outdated, but Remus had still nearly fainted at the sight of it.

Sirius looked from Remus to the Fender and shrugged before reaching to adjust the pins he wore in his hair to keep it from falling into his face while he played. They were probably the same ones he was always plucking out of Mary's hair.

"Well, you're staring so what is it?"

Sirius shook his head haughtily. "Nothing."

"Tosser," Remus grumbled under his breath.

He could've sworn he'd seen Sirius smile at him; a rare occurrence, even on a beautiful Sunday morning in mid-fall. The leaves around Hawkings had just begun to blanket the ground, covering the grassy berm outside the school's church with a sea of brown, yellow, and red. Earlier that summer, if anyone had told him he'd last long enough at Hawkings College to see the leaves change colour, he'd have socked them one to knock those loose bolts back into place. But it was true, and was perhaps the longest Remus had gone without socking anyone at all. Lyall Lupin might've been jumping for joy back in London, had he not had such a rigid stick up his arse. Good thing he had Giles to jump for him.