As Lead Rains [FRERARD]

Two

I sit through my fourth and fifth periods bored out of my mind. I have history and math- aka the worst subjects ever invented. Math is like a torture chamber and history is just plain boring. But finally the bell rings and I get to escape to my favorite class of the day- music. I grin as I walk in, seeing my teacher, Mr. Armstrong, at his desk. He smiles at me as I take my seat in my seat to the very right of the room, in the front corner. He's the only teacher here who likes me. The rest just pretend to because they have to.

I sit at my seat and pull out my music journal. It's tattered and worn. There's loose pages stuffed into it and pages torn out and shoved back in. It's a mess, a metaphor for my life really. I get engrossed in my notebook I don't realize that there's someone standing in front of me until he clears his throat. 

I look up and see the guy from the cafeteria. He has a shoulder bag slung across his shoulder and I can faintly smell cigarette smoke. He looks at me and his face shifts, almost into a smile but not quite. 

This seat taken?

He points to the spot next to me. It's always open. Same with all the seats around me. No one sits close to me unless they have to. They especially don't sit next to me.

I shake my head  and give him a weak smile as he artfully slides into the seat next to me just as the bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. As Mr. Armstrong explains what we're doing today I wonder what instrument the new guy plays, wishing I knew his name. Today we are supposed to get into our class pairs and discuss what progress we had made on our big end of term assignment, which is to create a song featuring our voice and the instrument we play.

"Frank. Come here please."

Oh great. Mr. Armstrong wants me to talk to him. Usually when we get into our pairs I sit alone because there is an uneven amount of students in the class and no one picked me to be partners with. I can hear whispers from the other students as I walk up shakily to his desk. 

"As you may have noticed, we have a new student in the class, which means you have a partner. I'd like you to get him up to speed on the assignment and show him your work."

I can feel my face getting red, I don't like sharing my work with other people. Mr. Armstrong hasn't even seen any of the work I have been doing for the assignment. I also don't talk much, so I don't know how I'm going to explain things to the new guy.

"I know you like working alone, and I get that, but I think you should give him a chance. You guys could become friends. I want you to try for me Frank. Please."

I nod and walk back to my seat, my face hot. I sit down and take a deep breath. 

You okay?

I nod and shakily let out the breath I was holding. 

Um...s-so this assignment...it's like a s-song t-that we have...have to make. 

I gulp and shake my head. My stutter makes it almost impossible to talk, which is why I don't. 

Take your time.

I look up at him and see that his eyes are kind, there is no hint of annoyance or ill intent in them. He's not making fun of me. 

W-we have...have to make a s-song. Like...s-sing it and...and play our...in-instrument. T-then present.

Okay. So I'm just writing a song? And singing it? That's it?

I nod and he chuckles, his serious face breaking out into a grin. The other students in the class stare at us. 

That's a fucking piece of cake. 

F-for you.

His smile fades.

Well...yeah. But I'm sure you play well. Guitar right?

H-how-

Your hands. Plus the guitar pick you have tapped to your notebook. Safekeeping?

I nod, confirming. Tapping a pick to my notebook is the only way I manage to keep track of it. If I put it anywhere else I lose it and have to get another one. 

W-what do...do you play?

Piano and I can sing. I'd imagine half the people in here can't sing. The other half can't play and sing at the same time. So when we present this thing, man is it going to be entertaining. 

I shrug. 

I bet you're different though.