The Arcane Society

Chapter 30

September 22nd

Good ol' days, Percussion, and Brave Faces

7:12 AM

My 7th grade "subordinate" and good friend, Atria, wasn't on the bus, which made me sad because I needed a shoulder to cry on, for the first time as her "mentor."

I ran inside the building as soon as the bus opened it's doors, tears streaking down. I wandered aimlessly and haphazardly, avoiding friends and ended up in the library. It was just 6th graders.

Phew! Perhaps I can calm down with a good book.

I scrolled the book aisles, only making me feel worse. My whole livelihood is based around books... I tried to clean up my face, at least looking decent.

I headed to the cafeteria, with no intention, perhaps I needed someone to notice I'm drowning in sadness. I see Marlee and Marina, chatting at a table. Kayla is nearby and Nella is nowhere to be seen. I tossed my backpack and lunchbox with a loud thud.

"Hey Elisabeth!" They chirped in unison.

A weak smile flashes across my face. "Heh, h-hey guys." Traces of sadness were slightly obvious in my voice. My eyes were puffy and I looked tired, I'd expect them to notice. Nope, nothing. I just headed grabbed my stuff and trudged through, blinking through tears.

W-Why didn't they notice!? My body language gave it away, didn't it?

What is so important to them that they fail to notice tears in my eyes? The 7 deadly fandoms? Haha, my ass.

Even I knew I was pushing it, for I was a fangirl myself. I saw another nearby friend, and decided to run, run away from my problems.

"Elisabeth, wait!!" It was Atria with a friend. I stopped at a library table and looked at her. Her chestnut brown hair was long and loose. Those grey eyes pierced through me. "Elisabeth, what's wrong?"

"EVERYTHING!" I scream, throwing my glasses down, they land with a clink. "Why does life hate me so much? I've been a good girl, for god's sake!" I emphasize my gestures more than normal. "I wish I could go back to the good old days." I slammed my fist on the table, hard. "My friends payed attention to me, not their stupid phones. Boys would fall over for me. I was a perfect daughter. Why must everything change, Atria!?"

I stood in tense silence between the three as everything I've said let go. Time seemed to slow.

"Even when you're crying you sound so smart, Elisabeth." I chuckle with humor at that. "You were there for me when I needed someone most. Whenever I see you, you look so brave. Someone reliable."

Cymphonique, her friend added. "When my Grandpa died, I tore through everything. I looked just like you. Tired and sad. So, Elizabeth, chin up. Let me tell you this. What may seem like your problems now, won't matter in a year."

I felt something inside me. Something surfacing, it felt so close. All those moments, defending someone. The power I felt when I did. It felt so exhilarating.

"...!! I've...never felt so...encouraged from 7th graders. Considering Society wants me to suck it up." They laugh. "Heh, I'll be candor, thank you guys so much. My friends would be constantly breathing down my neck if they found out."

And then they burst in the room, gasping at the sight! Just kidding!

The bell rings and I skip happily to STAR.

Cadet Band

You know how you can predict when your day will go horrible. Is whether or not you're going to crack your reed.

I was doing jussst fine when some instrument crashed behind me, I was scared and accidentally slammed the reed against the stand. It split! straight down the middle, in half.

....!!!!! HOLY MOTHERFUU-!

I chastised myself for being an idiot.

$13 down the drain... Fantastic.

I rushed to Bass Drum when she says to play Light 'em Up. What I'm expected to read, is pure torture. With no help whatsoever, due to the other percussionist absent, I'm sorta scared.

What. am. I. supposed. to. do!?!? Yeah, absolute pitch will totally help me with this one.

Aghhh, where is Logan when you need the guy?

My fright turns towards rage.

Screw her! She didn't teach me anything, how does she expect me to play the piece how she wants it? I can't march with oboe, because it'll frickin' slit my throat is a terrible excuse. So is that fact that I can't be heard. I compete with 5 flautists everyday!

The fact that I'm doing percussion with three weeks till Friday Night Lights, makes the pressure worse.

Welp, I've got one statement.

I'm screwed.