"Mom... tell them to go away..." I shouted down to my mother downstairs. Someone was at the door. I didn't want to go. I knew fine who it was - it was my new bass guitar teacher. Matt left last month and my mom had gotten someone different. She knew guitar was the only thing I cared about but I really didn't wanna. I did not wanna go down there and start up lessons with someone else. I wanted Matt, not some weird new teacher who probably hated the way I played.
"No Emma, you come down here!"
"But mo-"
"Emma."
I picked myself up off of my bed and put down my phone. I was busy on Instagram, blogging about My Chemical Romance. I could hear someone entering through the door and my mother's giddy laugh when she met new people. Great. I could already tell I was going to hate them. I heard the click of the kettlee and the sound of boiling. She had them in the kitchen and was making them some form of hot drink. Tea, coffee, I don't know. I didn't care.
I decided to change into a new outfit. I pulled on my black and white ROXY t-shirt with custom made print of the black parade soldier on the back. I pulled on my black leather-style jeans and re-applied my eyeshadow. My hair was a mess. I brushed it out, and straightened it, adding a black pin to just between my hair and my fringe. I don't know what you could call my hair. Dirty blonde? Dirt brunette? Dirty ginger? Dirty dirt? I don't know.
Walking down the steps, I avoided the kitchen/dining room at all costs and snuck into the music room. I picked up my guitar (my new custom white and black Fender Precision) and plugged it in. I smiled as I touched the strings on the guitar - happiness. Happiness was all I could think. Music made me happy. I began to play. Over and over, over and over, over and over the same notes. I could never get bored of them - the first chords of "Sing".
"Sing it out,
Boy, you've got to see what tomorrow brings...
Sing it out,
Girl you go-"
My finger slipped and I cursed under my breath. Even at home, without people or friends around me, I had a thing about not getting it wrong.
"Sing it out..." I tried to match my guitar to my voice but the guitar sounded wrong. I frowned and played a few chords. I checked the wire. The wire wasn't plugged.
I smiled.
"Sing it out
Boy, you've got to see what tomorrow brings
Sing it out
Girl, you've got to be what tomorrow needs
For every time that they want to count you out
Use your voice every single time you open up your mouth
Sing it for the boys
Sing it for the girls
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world
Sing it from the heart
Sing it till you're nuts
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Sing it for the deaf
Sing it for the blind
Sing about everyone that you left behind
Sing it for the world
Sing it for the world
Sing it out, boy they're gonna sell what tomorrow means
Sing it out, girl before they kill what tomorrow brings
You've got to make a choice
If the music drowns you out
And raise your voice
Every single time they try and shut your mouth
Sing it for the boys
Sing it for the girls
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world
Sing it from the heart
Sing it till you're nuts
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Sing it for the deaf
Sing it for the blind
Sing about everyone that you left behind
Sing it for the world
Sing it for the world
Cleaned-up corporation progress
Dying in the process
Children that can talk about it,
Living on the railways
People moving sideways
Sell it till your last days
Buy yourself a motivation
Generation Nothing,
Nothing but a dead scene
Product of a white dream
I am not the singer that you wanted
But a dancer
I refuse to answer
Talk about the past, sir
Wrote it for the ones who want to get away
Keep running!
Sing it for the boys
Sing it for the girls
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world
Sing it from the heart
Sing it till you're..."
"Nuts," I heard a voice say from behind me. I immediatley recognised it.
"Sing it out for the ones that will hate your guts."
I gasped as I saw who it was. I was in denial but no. No, that was definitley him.
All 5"10 of the blonde gorgeousness behind me was really him. My new bass guitar teacher was in fact the one bassist who had ruined every chance of normal sanity I had in a good way.
Michael "Mikey" James Way.
