Youngbloods of the World, Stand Up and Fight

Waiting at the Doorstep

Tap tap tap

Tap tap tap

Tap tap tap

Sighing, Hope glanced up at the clock with her eyes as she slowly tapped her pen on the desk in front of her. Five more minutes... five more minutes, and then practice with the band... she thought, absentmindedly twirling one of her headphone cords around her finger. Ever since she'd gotten a cover band together surviving through the school day has gotten tougher and tougher. But there was no helping it. Even though the day dragged on so slow it was ridiculous.

RING

Once the sound rang through the classroom she jumped out of her seat as fast as possible and sprinted out of the classroom.

Another girl with long red hair was waiting outside of the gates for her, her arms crossed with a black jacket draped over them. As soon as she saw her friend approaching, she looked up with a grin on her face.

"Eager to go, Hotshot?"

Rolling her eyes, Hope ran to the bike racks quickly unlocking hers. "Oh you know how it is. Eat, sleep, rock and roll," she answered with a grin on her own face. "And anyways, I need a break from listening to Fall Out Boy so I can actually sing Fall Out Boy."

"And so I can actually play Fall Out Boy," the friend added, grabbing her bike as well.

"Exactly," she said, nodding as she jumped up on the seat. "And you, Carlee Silver, are the best guitarist this town has ever seen."

Carlee just rolled her eyes as she hopped up onto her bike as well. "Yeah, and you're a cocky lead singer that needs to shut up."

Letting out a short laugh, Hope pushed off and started riding towards their other friend's house.

The two friends glided up the driveway, and pounded lightly on the garage door. "'Ey Jackson! Open it up!"

A few moments later, the garage door slowly creaked open, revealing a completely set-up band arrangement. Throwing her bike to the side, Hope ran into the garage, ducking under the door and sliding to the mic stand that was set up in the middle. "Everything all set up?"

"Yep, I plugged in everything before you two got here," answered another voice as a boy wearing a baseball cap entered the garage twirling drumsticks between his fingers.

"Sweet," Carlee said, picking up her guitar and strumming a few chords.

"Do re me fa so la te dooooo..." Hope sang into the mic, giggling a bit after.

"Dork," Carlee protested, strumming her guitar again.

"Doofus," she shot back, sticking her tongue out at her friend.

"Both of you are idiots, now can we move on with life?" Jackson asked, leaning forwards and placing his sticks on the snare.

"Where's Sam?" Hope suddenly asked, leaning forward to peer out in the driveway.

"She'll be here in a sec," her friend answered, still staring down at the strings of her guitar. "Had some stuff to take care of, I guess. Dunno."

"While we're waiting on her and Blake can we work on that one section in Death Valley? With the fancy Carlee Guitar Part? In the beginning?"

Jackson nodded, picking his sticks up again. "Whatever you say, Chief."

"As long as you don't fail the singing and your voice cracks," Carlee joked, a grin forming on her face.

"Oh shut the heck up."

"Hope, she's not wrong-"

"Are you deaf?"

Stifling laughter, the two rolled their eyes and then set themselves up for the arrangement. With three clicks from Jackson's drumsticks, the street burst to life, music echoing down the whole street.

~~~

It seemed like this would go on forever. This wonderful, happy, fun life Hope had made for herself. Wake up, get through school, then practice with the band for hours and hours on end. All the while saving up the money they earned from playing gigs to put towards finally getting tickets to see Fall Out Boy play in concert. A goal the band had set only about a month back. Since then they'd played about four shows and earned a good amount of money, but it wasn't close to getting tickets for all five of them.

However, in a few short hours that would literally change faster than Hope would have ever expected it to.

In a good and bad way.

~~~

Fumbling with the curling iron, Hope let out a short scream of frustration as her hair frizzed, pretty much impossible to fix. "Stupid curling iron... work with me here..." she mumbled to herself setting it down and fussing with her hair.

"Eh, it looks fine... the fedora'll hide the frizziness on top," she said, twirling the hat around once, before placing it on her head. "Great, wonderful, Patrick Stump would approve." Grinning, and giving herself thumbs up in the mirror, before running out of the bathroom and jumping down the stairs.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed her mom and reminded her that she was going to practice with the band before their gig tonight, before slipping on her backpack. As she slid on her converse, she quietly started singing the lyrics to Just One Yesterday to herself, a small smile on her face.

"I thought of angels, chokin' on their halos," she sang under her breath, tying her shoes before standing up and heading towards the door. "Get them drunk on rose water." Smiling, she unlocked the door, covering her mouth as she yawned slightly. Before she could sing the next lyric, she happened to look up and let out a gasp, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing on her doorstep was an incredibly familiar-looking short man wearing nerd glasses and a fedora.

"You're Hope, right?" he asked, biting his lower lip.

"Uh... I uh... " for a second, she couldn't speak. Is this real...? "Uh yeah... that's me..."

"Great," he let out a sigh of relief, looking around as if making sure no one was listening before continuing. "I'm Patrick. And I really need your help."