Us Band Geeks

Chapter One- The Bassoon Has Passed Out In A Practice Room.

The Bassoon Has Passed Out In A Practice Room. 

"Well." Trinity sighed and nudged the girl with her toe. "This was unexpected."

It was seven forty-five in the morning, on a Wednesday, in the band room of Cooperstown High School. Trinity Taylors, a saxophone, Dallas West, a trombone, and Harley Smith, a trumpet, stood in Practice Room B, looking at the floor.

"The bassoon has passed out in a practice room." Dallas observed.

"No dip." Harley scoffed. It was indeed 'no dip'. Reese Dunn was laying on the cold floor, curled in a ball. She was wearing the same clothes she was yesterday; a Twenty One Pilots shirt, skinny jeans, black converse, a few bracelets, a ring, a black beanie pulled over her dyed red hair. The flask normally hidden in her back pocket rested next to her hand, and the scent of liquor was overpowering.

"I think we should get Benny." Dallas added.

"Me too." Trinity turned on her heel. The other two followed her.

"Yo, Benny." Harley waved to the boy, who was busy setting up the marimba, which had been moved to the middle school for the weekend.

"Yeah?" Benny Rockwell turned and smiled softly at them. Benny had brown hair that stood straight up, brown eyes, slightly tan skin, and his cheeks where pink as always. Today, he wore a striped sweater and jeans. His shoes where falling apart--the bottom part slapped the floor as he walked.

"You've got some Twenty One Pilots songs, right?" Dallas questioned. Benny frowned.

"Don't tell me-" he began, but Trinity interrupted.

"Reese got drunk last night and is passed out in a practice room." she informed him. Benny sighed.

"The bassoon passed out in a practice room?" a freshman--Gracen, they where fairly sure--looked frightened. "Is she okay?"

"Oh, yeah." Dallas waved the worry away. "Once we play Oh Ms Believer, she'll pop right up. She's wearing the shirt."

"Here." Benny pulled out his phone. "Trin, you know the password." he shoved it into Trinity's hand and walked over to where a second freshman-Gavin-was trying to set up the drum set.

"C'mon." Trinity typed it in. Dallas peered over her shoulder.

"What's his password?" Dallas asked as they walked down the hall to Practice Room B.

"I'm not legally allowed to tell." said Trinity. "I signed a contract."

"Bull." Dallas poked her arm, but did nothing else. They had arrived.

"Do it." Harley nodded. They stared at Reese, and Trinity pressed play.

Oh, Ms Believer, my pretty sleeper,

Your twisted mind is like snow on the road,

Your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder

Inside your head, than the winter of dead.

Reese popped up. Trinity raised her eyebrows.

"Man, what time is it?" Reese mumbled, rubbing her eyes. The black eye shadow she was wearing smudged around her eyes. Her eyeliner changed into raccoon eyes.

"It's nine-thirty-seven." Harley smiled. "And it's time for band."

"Aw, man." Reese groaned and fell backwards, her beanie falling off. She stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over, the blue dulled. "Do I got to?"

"Yeah." Dallas grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Now get up."

Reese let out unintelligible noises as the lights reached her. "Why, why why?" she muttered.

"Maybe you should actually get into rehab, like you promised." Trinity snapped as they walked out of the hall. "Then you wouldn't have this problem."

"Hey," Reese glared, but it was unfocused and lazy. "I'm not as think as you drunk I am."

"Bad time for a Panic! reference, Reese." Trinity said, her glare focused as a laser.

"Sorry." Reese shrugged apologetically. "I had the chance." with that, she shoved her hands into her pockets and went into the locker room. Her dyed red hair was messy and in knots.

"She's gonna want her beanie." Harley said.

"Yeah." Trinity sighed and rubbed her eyes. Harley walked off to go get the hat. Dallas went over to the trombones, and she went over to Benny.

"Here." she handed the phone back to him.

"How long did it take her this time?" Benny asked as he pocketed it.

"Verse One." she told him. Benny sighed and looked over to where Reese was looking around, blinking, trying to remember her combination to get her bassoon.

"It's getting worse." he whispered.

"I know. I've tried to talk her into rehab." Trinity lowered her voice. "She's not doing it."

"We've got to make her!" Benny insisted. Trinity gaped at him.

"We can't make Reese do anything! She'd probably just laugh and drink more!"

"What about the cigarettes? Can she stop those?"

"She doesn't smoke them, Benny. She just keeps them in her mouth. Like Augustus Waters."

"Why does she like him so much?!"

"Because he dies." Trinity said shortly. Benny clamped his mouth shut.

Reese had changed sometime over the summer between seventh and eighth grade. At first, it was subtle differences, the ones people assumed was just her growing up and being a moody teenager. She stopped smiling as much. Then she stopped smiling all together. She wasn't laughing like she used too. She bought red hair dye and dyed her hair in the kitchen sink, then cut it with the kitchen scissors, because her parents refused to let her go to a salon. She'd started wearing more black. Bags formed under her eyes. Then, she got better.

It was like a wish come true. The colors came back, the smile, the laughter. But it seemed forced. Her hair returned to normal. And then like somebody snapped their fingers, it got worse. So, so much worse.

The drinking started. The black clothes came back. The red, choppy hair. It was a little better, they supposed--she was still smiling, still laughing, and the bags weren't there. But she bought a pack of cigarettes and walked with them in her mouth. She stole beer from her parents and kept it in a flask she hid in her pants. She wore beanies. She swore. She stole. She refused to get better.

But it hadn't stopped them from trying.

"She'll do it." Benny spoke. "She will." he seemed as though he was trying to reassure himself that Reese wasn't a lost cause.

"Yeah." Trinity smiled at him and walked over to the saxophones, pulling out her alto. Even though Reese was her best friend--she had been the only one to remind people that Trinity didn't need to kiss her boyfriend until she was ready, she had been the one to braid her hair after she'd broken her wrist and couldn't do it herself, god, Reese had done so many things for her--a small, nagging voice in the back of her head told her that it was bad. It was bad. So bad. And things weren't going to get better.

They're just going to get worse.

1106 Words

I know this probably isn't very interesting yet. I doubt it will. I'm just writing this for fun.

Song-

Oh Ms Believer: Twenty One Pilots: Twenty One Pilots