The Payback or The Adventures and Pranks of Zachary O'Connor

Chapter One: Friends, Enemies, Etc.

I nearly fell down the bleachers when the marching band finished the Hey Song. I was simply finishing the song on a slightly-higher-than-average note, and I saw Anti and Meghan talking to Laurel, almost sending my 6-foot-3, lanky, swaying body over the edge, which almost certainly would've crushed my carefully styled spiky blond hair.

Laurel was a large blond girl who always bragged about her money. Everyone knew that she had never had to pay for a single thing in her entire pathetic life. To top it all off was the fact that she was a racist asshole. Seeing two of my best friends talking to her definitely set off some alarms. I also had witnessed something happen to Laurel about 6 months ago that I was not ready to talk to her about. She has never spoken to me about that night, and judging by her reaction to me going to her when she needed help, she never intended to.

"Gabby!" I shouted, calling to my fellow marching band member in our group of friends. "Why the hell are Anti and Meghan talking to Laurel?"

She shrugged, quiet as ever, then held up three fingers, signaling that we would find out during third quarter.

Marching band had third quarter off after our half-time show.

Something about the way Gabby and I communicated just worked. She was one of my best friends, along with Meghan and Anti, and after three years of marching band with her, we could spend all day together without ever speaking a word.

Our friendship just worked like that, and it was great. Since I am a teenage boy, I must tell you that Gabby and I were--and always would be-- strictly friends.

Don't get me wrong, Gabby was a hilarious, beautiful, talented girl with this awesome long, flowing black hair, but it would never be like that. I was still recovering from a previous heartbreak anyway.

This particular night, Gabby and I were in our marching band uniforms, colored green and gold, with a fancy, curling "W" on the chest. Gabriela Serafina, Meghan Harper, Antioch Obi, and I were all enrolled in our senior year of high school at Walkerhall High School in the quintessentially suburban town of Walkerhall in the heart of Jester County, Georgia.

As marching band members with friends not in marching band, our eyes perpetually strayed to the student section, a section of the bleachers dedicated to Walkerhall students. Only the most preppy of the 3000 students at our school dared to enter into the center of the churning pit of teenagers kissing, gossiping, flirting, laughing, crying, and being complete idiots.

My friends and I were not of this breed. Anti's tall frame, dark hair and light brown skin provided a contrast to Meghan's blond hair and overall shortness, with the two of them and Laurel sitting in the very back of the tribe of students packed into the bleachers.

All of this information was standard protocol for a Friday night in October. Incidentially, this night, the 3rd of October, happened to be only a few days after my eighteenth birthday.

At that exact moment though, I was only concerned that Anti and Meghan had fallen onto their heads.

My brain was kind of like this:

Me: Yes! We just scored a touchdown!

Me: Holy shit! Why are Anti and Meghan talking to Laurel?

Me: Could it have something to do with what happened last year?

Me: Time to play the fight song!

Me: (various musical terms and such)

Me: Just wait til third quarter. We'll go talk to them and see what's up.

We screwed up at half-time. There was a big mistake somewhere in the Low Brass Section that messed up our tempo.

I mean, it's kind of a tradition for the Low Brass to mess up, though; it is the way of the world. Don't get me wrong; we're passionate, and we're not unskilled, but we are extremely thickheaded at times.