indie » styles

eighth

day the twenty-sixth

Wren was riding her bike on her way home from downtown when she heard music.

Loud music.

Loud and bad music.

She couldn't help but draw closer, attracted to the guitar and wild drum playing. 

Wren usually drove through this neighborhood without a second thought. She always found it fascinating how different a place becomes when you're stripped of a safety enclosure. That's why, when her sad Accord was in the shop, she wasn't all too disappointed. Wren enjoyed riding her bike, espcially when she could make disoveries such as this one. 

She propped her bike against a nearby mailbox and slowly drew closer. She stopped at the garage door, feeling dumb for approaching the random home. The music came to a sudden stop and she heard voices, causing her mind to be made up about just going home.

Before she could reach her bike, a voice stopped her.

"Hey, where you going?" Turning, Wren saw a boy with tousled blonde hair opening the door.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just heard the music and wanted to check it out." Wren tripped over her words, her face turning a bright red.

"Well, what did you think?" He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms against his chest.

A warm breeze carried over the smell of eucalyptus. "Excuse me?"

"About us?" He hopped down the stairs, walking up to her. "Were we any good?"

She awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. No, they really weren't. "I don't really know, I couldn't hear very well."

The boy pursed his lips together tightly as if thinking. "Would you like to hear?"

"I really should be going," Wren said quickly. Which wasn't a lie, Harry promised to show her a rad band today, which he quoted was, "totally indie." She had avoided Harry ever since the little friend zone incident. He'd wave at her from across the street, but she would ignore him. When he knocked on her door, she would hide in her room and pretend she wasn't home.

Harry had caught her off guard at the local library, blocking the door and claiming he had to show her something the next day.

How could she refuse?

"Oh." His eyes dropped to the ground. "I get it. we just haven't had anyone hear us perform. except for my mother, that is."

"Does she think you guys are any good?" Wren found herself asking.

"You know how mothers are." He looked up, electric blue eyes meeting her own. A lazy smile on his face. "She thinks we're going to be the next big thing."

Wren couldn't help but laugh. "And maybe you will be."

"I doubt it. Four boys making shit music in their garage never become famous." He snorted. He acted like it wasn't a big deal, but wren noticed how bright his eyes grew at the mention of becoming a music sensation.

"Hey, you never know." She gave him a smile. 

"I'm Luke, by the way. I don't know if you ever saw me in classes." He looked embarrassed as he chewed his lower lip.

Now that he mentioned it, the boy did look somewhat familiar. Wren was awful with paying attention to her fellow student body; another reason she couldn't wait until she was gone.

"Wren." She answered and before she could change her mind, said: "Actually, I would like to hear your band sometime, what's it called?"

"We still don't know, I want it to be something original and punk rock. Like the band."

"You're punk rock?" Wren swallowed a laugh. He looked about as punk rock as a golden retriever with a spiked collar.

"That I am." Luke beamed. Why, what else would be?"

The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them "You could be indie."

The boy laughed. "Indie? That isn't even a way to describe something. Nobody can be 'indie'."

Wren had to bite her tongue because she knew somebody that was the definition of indie.

But she didn't expect anyone to understand.

Especially someone who was punk rock.

**

frickity frack i want to live in wrens neighborhood.

i'll sell my tonsils and liver.