By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (25)

Sigh. Second time I'm doing this. It won't be half as cheerful as the previously written authors note (you know, the one that was unsaved and therefore totally lost when one of my dear family members insensitively shut down the computer and lost all of my work).

But wait.

The excitment and sheer UNBELIEVABILITY of what I did this afternoon is still here.

So:

OHMYGOD I SAW WE THE KINGS IN FREAKIN' CONCERT AND EVEN THOUGH ME AND MY SISTER AND DAD WERE LIKE ONE OF THE FIVE BLACK PEOPLE THERE IT WAS TOTALLY AWESOME!!!!

Yes. I saw We The Kings in concert. No, I did not throw myself onto the stage like some fan girl and start kissing the lead singer's feet. Maybe...

My dad started dancing like he was in a club and of course, being that my dad is short but very loud, we drew the attention of most of the crowd. No worries, though. I didn't really care. In fact, I went on to embarrass myself further by jumping around. Conspicuously...

Ironically, We The Kings sings the song that I posted onto this chapter. I swear, I didn't plan it that way. I just love this song.

NOTE: IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU LISTEN TO THE SONG. ARCHER AND PHOEBE WERE, IN FACT, BORN FROM THAT SONG.

Plus, it's important in this chapter. So yeah.

If you just read all of that, you're awesomeness astounds me.

Peace out and enjoy! <3

S.G.R.

P.S. I'm making it my ultimate goal to write at least fifty more pages on this story...

I apologize for errors.

*

Phoebe's POV:  

I folded my arms across my chest. "No."

"Come on, Phoebe."

"It's not going to happen."

"Please? Just a little piece?"

"No."

"I won't snap his elbow, I swear, just a few fingers..."

I glared at my best friend. "Not going to happen."

"A finger? Just the pinky?"

"Archer..."

He huffed, pouting. "Fine." His glare turned murderous as he looked over my shoulder at the whimpering boy behind me. He jutted at finger toward him and the boy flinched.

"You just count yourself lucky, kid."

I looked over my shoulder. The poor guy nodded and slowly began backing away. I heaved a sigh. "Really?"

"He groped you, Phoebe!"

"He shook my hand after the performance!"

"There was way too much thumb in that hand shake!"

I scoffed. "Stop being ridiculous."

"Can't help it," he said, suddenly grinning. "Ridiculous is my middle name."

I swatted his arm. "Quiet. He's starting."

He followed my gaze to where a pudgy, slightly balding man was fiddling nervously with the microphone. Beads of sweat popped onto his forehead--shiny even in the dark. I felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He'd been brave enough to take the plunge and now he looked as if he were about to pass out.