Boy Meets Bitch -BoyXBoy-

Chapter 4: Piano rock star

My first week of high school seemed to fly by. The boy next door to my locker didnt really try to engage in conversation and I didn't try to get him to. There was really no point in it. I wasn't some super star athlete or some trashy girl in a trashy skirt trying to get in his pants.

     I'm not trying to stereotype the kid. But if we're being honest, my stereotypes never left me wrong. I've stereotyped half of the teachers in my old middle school and all of the lunch ladies. Then 2 of the janitors. I knew that 72 year old Jole was getting in one with someone in the school. I just didn't realize it was 32 year old Mrs. Hindricks. That's a sight I don't think I'll ever forget.

    I walked through the hallway on that very Friday and the sights around me were horrific. Most of the time, I can ignore the annoying football players. Even without their jerseys on, you can tell who is who and what is what. But when they have their jerseys on, it's like they've ripped off their actual indentites and changed into a cape that says "I PLAY FOOTBALL AND I AM A TOTAL DOUCHE WHO ONLY CARES ABOUT PUSSSSAAAAY". Or at least that's how I see them. And like I said, I'm never wrong.

    Except when I'm really really wrong. As I walked into my drama class (one I only had on Fridays, all the other days of the week this was art time), I felt my heart drop down to my toes and stay there. In that very small room, stood 6'4 Brookline Hamilton.

     Okay, I know I called him kid before. But I do know his name. One of the reasons I'm always right is the fact that I do my research. Some call it stalking, I call it research. You call scrolling through Brookline's Instagram until 4 AM creepy,  I call it homework. It's all about titles.

     Anyway, back to the steps that lead me into the room. I walked into the room and saw that there were only a few people there. 7 at the most. There were chairs in a circle in the center of the room and one chair in front. The teacher's, I suppose. All of the chairs were taken, except for the one...yep, you guessed it. The one right beside dear Brookline.

    I quickly took my seat and noticed he was too interested in his phone to even notice me. What did I expect? For him to look up and scream "OH MY GOD IT IS BENNET JUDSON, LEADER OF THE BLACK PARADE!". Okay, that was a little much. But a simple hi would have been nice, we're locker neighbors after all.

      "Okay", the blonde teacher said as she sat down. She was short and a tad...healthy. She wasn't stick thin but she wasn't huge. She was healthy. Maybe 31-ish. "So I see we have a freshman with us, which doesn't happen often" she smiled at me. When everyone looked at me I leaned back, as if to become one with the chair. Invelope me, ole red and hard chair. Make me one with you.

      Instead of becoming one with the chair of rejection, I just smiled and nodded. "Yep, that's me", I wave a little and mentally curse at myself for being f*cking lame. I quickly put my hand down and sat up straight. "They said that I had something I could bring to the drama class, ma'am".

     She nodded. "I heard that you were quite the little rockstar on the piano. We needed someone like you for our little play scenes. Just some fun little musicals. Very short, no worries. Not even ones we're going to perform for anyone. Just for the class", she replied, nodding again. Okay, queen of nodding.

      Beside me, I heard Brookline mumble/whisper "how can you be a rockstar on the piano". It wasn't meant for anyone, but everyone heard it. Including the blonde teacher who's name I forgot. I let the schedule peek out of my pocket to check her name, but my sly moves were interrupted when I heard her call out my name.

     I jumped back and the paper slid out of my pocket and down to Brookline's black and red tennis shoes. I groan inwardly. "Yes ma'am?", I asked before reaching down for the schedule. Brookline didn't even offer a hint of helping me, even though it was literally right at his feet. I shoved the schedule in my pocket and sat up straight again. "My apologies".

     "Not a worry. I was just wondering if you could answer Mr. Hamilton's question", she responded, earning an eyebrow raise from me. "He asked how someone could be a rock star on the piano. Care to show him?". She winked at me and I smiled a little. She wanted to prove this b*tch wrong just as much as I did.
     
     If there was one thing I was confident about, it was piano. That and my dearest stereotyping. Which is more of a job than a hobby. I got up and walked over to the beautiful white piano that was sat in the corner of the room.

      I let my fingers brush against the keys before playing softly. My fingers felt as if they moved on their own and I looked straight forward as I played. I felt the melody mentally lift me off my feet. After the song, I slide my fingers off the keys and look towards the circle. They were all just staring at me in awe.

     I blushed lightly and looked down. I didn't look up until I heard Brookline say "Well I'll be damned, so that's how someone can be a piano rock star". I felt my heart rise and I smiled widely as I stood up. I looked torwards the teacher who had a proud smile on her face.