Frerard One Shots

The Band-a-gram

#7

The Band-a-gram

*~*~*~*~*

Okay, for those of you who don't know, a band-a-gram is a little message you pay for at a marching band competition to write a note to someone in the band. c:

xoCrashFire hope you like it

*~*~*~*

Frank;

I patiently wait in the line, clutching onto my dollar that I'm using to buy a band-a-gram so I can write one to my best friend, and crush, Gerard. I'm really nervous, I've never written a bamd-a-gram before, but I've spent weeks figuring out what I'm going to write.

The line moves up a little bit, a few more people handing in their dollars for their messages. My nerves grow as I finally make it to the front. "Hello," one of the workers say from the other side of the table.

"Hello," I greet shakily, handing one of them my dollar bill. A band student from the campus we're on accepts it and hands me a piece of paper and a pen.

I clutch the pen and lean on the table, writing on the paper.

To: Gerard

Message: You did a wonderful job on your solo. I loved it as much as I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?

From: Frank

The boy accepts my folded message, "What school?"

"Belleville," I answer, handing him the pen back. I watch as he takes the paper and puts it in the envelope with "Belleville" written across it in sloppy handwriting.

I smile and walk away, making my way to the area that our buses are parked. My nerves are still there, I'm nervous for the show, but mostly the band-a-gram. I think that he might, might, like me back. We've been best friends for a while now, since fifth grade, and we are always hugging and sleeping over. When we sleep over, he asks if I can cuddle him, and sometimes he kisses my cheek or forehead. It's just hard to think that he doesn't.

I make it to the three buses and walk to the trailer that holds the band and color guard uniforms, the percussion instruments and color guard flags. I stand there and wait until they call my name for my uniform.

Finally, after seemingly forever, I hear my name get called by a high pitched voice, a band mom, and push my way through the group, grabbing my outfit. The other guard members grab me by the arms and pull me to the bus we had. "Okay, Frankie, we need to do something with your hair after you get dressed," the captain, Tay, said, while Jenna, the co-captain, digs around in a box that contains pony tail holders, bobby pins, hairspray, and tons of other stuff.

I sigh and start to strip down to my underwear, pulling on my too tight pants. They were basically leggings, but had little flairs at the bottom. After that, I pull on my shirt. It was short sleeve, different from the girls' tops. There's was long sleeve on one side and missing the shoulder on the other. We all had sparkles all over it though, they were in shades of black, silver, and gold. After straightening my clothes out, getting it buttoned in the back, and picking off shedded hair, I pull on the flat shoes I have to wear and then get attacked by hands fixing my hair.

They ended up parting it to the right, making my bangs swoopy looking on my forehead. Tay grabs the hairspray, covers my eyes with her free hand, and sprays my hair all over with the spray.