Mr. Way, is love at first sight possible?
-Frank
(Not my best writing...)
Frank;
Snake bites in, black hair straightened, band tee on, skinny jeans tight.
I had everything done and ready for my first day back at High School, but I felt as if I had forgotten something. This always happened to me, although I never really listened to my gut until now. I know I forgot something, it was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't quite think or say what it was. All I know is I needed the thing I was searching for.
School wasn't an issue for me. I had girls at my side when I snapped my fingers, jocks to be the best friends I wanted, and good grades by the teachers who loved me. Which, were pretty much all of them. But, I'm not bragging. You can't get a student as good looking as me and expect him to pass every subject that has the word work in it.
Sometimes, I want to just burn the school down. Maybe then I'll be smarter than all of the nerds who refuse to do my homework because they don't like cheating. But, I know when they rebuild it, the rules will be twice as hard as they are now. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'd be in jail by the time they get the first floor finished because of the accident I caused.
Sighing, I began to rummage through my song books, letting the bass that was just on the other end of my bed lay face down on the floor as I stepped. I didn't mean to step that way, causing the neck of the bass to snap into two. It was out of instinct to move when I was looking for something important, and this is what happened.
I slammed my hands on my wooden desk, staring blankly at the dark grey walls my mother wouldn't let me paint black because it's not a color. My anger was rising to a level I couldn't quite help, my face surly turning red at the lack of oxygen to my brain. Honestly, if anything could go wrong today, it had to be this? The thing I loved?
I know, I know, "It's just a bass. You can always get a new one." However, I couldn't just get a new one. Before my dad passed away, he gave me this for my birthday. I haven't picked it up, played it, nothing for the seven years I have had it. -- I was always meaning to get a new one I could play, and still have this one, but my mom said if I wanted it, I'd have to pay for it myself. And long story short, I only had eighty dollars on me at the moment.
I dared to look down at the now broken instrument underneath the ceases of my shoes. The first thing that came to mind was to pick it up and show it to the woman my deceased father fell in love with. But, that would mean I'd have to touch it. And I didn't want to put a finger print, not even a breath of smoke on it. But, it's in two pieces, Frank. You can't do much more damage than that.
I took a step back just in time to hear another snap. Cursing under my breath, I rambled my way towards the door. Thumping down the stairs, my black hair bouncing every which way, I caught my mother in time before she left for work. She was currently sitting at the counter with a coffee mug and newspaper, sipping cautiously at the scorching liquid.
