The Dark Book, The Sad Girl, And The Lonely Boy

Under A Chair In Detention

Austin Moon sat in his last class of the day staring out at the dark clouds forming in the sky. The outside looked like how he felt on the inside, dreary and alone.

Do you ever want to run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming

No you don't know what its like
When nothing feels alright
You don't know what its like to be like me

"Mr. Moon!"

Austin Moon tore his eyes away from the window, then he looked up at his angry teacher and hit pause on his black iPod nano. "What?"

"You're not allowed to have headphones or listen to music in class! Go to the detention room for the rest of the day!" He bellowed.

He shrugged. "Whatever. I'd rather hear music than your mouth." He rolled his eyes and hit play again, then he stood up and left the room.

He walked down the long hallway to the in-school suspension room, but most people just called it the detention room because it's where all the delinquents can be found. He walked in and sat down without talking to the teacher. They both knew why he was there, it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last.

"Mr. Moon, don't forget to sign in." The teacher said.

Austin stood and went to sign the sheet of paper on the teacher's desk.

"Earbuds again?"

Austin nodded, scribbled his name, then went to sit back down. He closed his eyes to get lost in the music, but his foot hit something under the chair making him open his again. He bent down and saw a brown book with an 'A' on it and a bind around it.

He furrowed his eyebrows. It wasn't a textbook or a notebook, it look more like a journal. Letting his curiosity take over he opened the book and skimmed a page.

Melodies are in my head,
Keeping me alive from my death.
I keep singing da da da da da
I keep singing just to keep myself alive!
Alive, just to keep myself alive.

Austin stared at the book. He gulped and yanked his earbuds out of his ears so he could focus on the words in front of him. It was exactly how he felt, but could never express. It was as if he wrote it, but he could never write music. He could never make his own lyrics. It was too hard for him to write down how he felt, he could never find the right words, or words that were good enough, but someone did and if he could find them maybe he could start a band with them and make music that would blare in the earbuds of some kid in a classroom feeling alone.

That's all he really wanted.

He didn't even care about fame, he just wanted to make music that mattered to someone, to anyone who heard it. He wanted to make some lonely kid feel better.

He flipped to the cover page.

"All I have to do is find some emo guy named A. E. Dawson.. It can't be too hard, right?" He muttered to himself slipping the dark book into his bag before the bell rang. He had to stay an extra hour for detention then he could sign out and go home on a late bus.