Vibrations

1

I have keys, but I cannot open a single door. My keys make music, full of wonderful sounds. Here is where the first clue will be found.

The band hall was filled to the brim with acne filled music geeks, I (a normal human being amongst these freaks) sit in front of our jazz band's electronic piano. There is a frenzy of miss match parts of pieces (we have been rehearsing for for at least 5 months now) wailing behind me. I softly hum to a tune that non of these over worked teens could ever know, playing along to the lonesome melody on the plain white keys. I could barely hear myself over the frustratingly loud noise happening all around me, our director was out today so we were tasked to practice on our own. While the "others" practice our lame music that I have learned as well as I know how many fingers i have on a hand; I write my own little improvisational piece. The director always gets after me for adding a few extra notes for style, he complains saying "if the composer wanted it to sound like that, then they would have wrote it. You are not the composer Amber!" The director really is an asshole when it comes to my spontaneous outbursts. He just has no taste for real music or a sense of "style". Hell, the dude wears a Canadian tuxedo like every thursday.

"prick" I think a loud, hoping no one would hear me cursing with a whisper. That is until I feel a soft child-like pat on my mop of hair. My grey curls bouncing with every pet, almost like silver coils and springs in a machine. I turn to see a familiar face, a friend of mine, Maria. She plays a trumpet, and boy does it show. If you looked up the definition of a trumpet player you would just see her eyes. Those fucking things could burn holes with how much power and confidence she holds in them. (lol also cause shes a loud mouth but whatever) She practically is screaming in my face as she asks, "WHO ARE YOU ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
she winks in my direction, a mischievous gesture that I don't really pick up on. I just ignore it.
"IS IT A CRUSH?"

Pfff- ha! like I have time for any of that drama. I just laugh, and she seems to get a bit annoyed by me not answering; she hits my side and gives me this look that only Maria could pull off. Her perfect eyebrows scrunched in a tight angular form in her flawless brown skin, her piercing golden eyes squinted, and her small mouth in a very noticeable pout. She groans and punches my side again.
"its nothing" I say a bit solemnly, realizing quickly that I will have to pay for not providing the 'chisme'.

"just thinking of that asshole, Mr. Rios. He is a real prick" I chuckle nervously, and she doesn't look amused. I guess thats not the answer she was looking for. I just turn away, not feeling comfortable looking into those indescribably ridiculous eyes. I hear her chair turn from behind me, now I know things aren't gonna end up well. Maria doesn't move her chair, even when the director asks her to. (shit)
Next thing I know, I hear an eardrum busting song blaring in my direction. She is blasting the song "happy birthday" behind my head, everyone just stops and sees that she is playing at me. (fuck) Everyone smiles at me and almost as if on cue, all of the god damn band kids start screaming.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR-
                      God damn Band kids.
I just hold my face in my hands, I know its coming. It's not my fucking birthday and I do not intend for the whole world to know its my "birthday".
Before I could even hear the jumble that should be my name, I sprint out the band hall. Nope! I do not have to deal with this t o d a y!
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haaaaaaaa hey guys! this is a dumb thing i was writing for my ocs. its an au so non of this is "true" to my original story. but yeee I can't write for shit. thanks if u read this!