Unfamiliar (5 page)

I just didn’t think that music was the same without lyrics. The only time that music alone had ever been able to make me feel anything was while watching William C. Lancaster perform. I’d definitely felt something when I’d listened to him, but he was the rare exception to the rule.

While watching him, you could tell that he felt everything he was playing and I think that made all the difference. I could
feel
his passion.

Punk rockers definitely did not convey passion. It was ludicrous that Chase actually thought so. Anyone could jump up and down and scream— it wasn’t like it was hard or at all impressive. Did punk rockers even put thought into their lyrics? I doubted it and that was the reason I didn’t care for that type of music. It wasn’t at all poetic.

The idea of putting poetry to music, adding another dimension to the emotion bringing the intensity to a whole new level— God, why couldn't I do that? Sometimes, all I wanted in the entire world was just to be able to create something that would make people stop and press their hands over their hearts and just
know
exactly what I was feeling because they
felt
it too.

But that was just me being stupid. I'd never have time to actually create anything like that. I had a plan for my future and it didn't involve wasting my time with such emotional nonsense. I had goals. I needed to focus on graduating with a business degree and securing a good job with benefits in a company that I could easily make a life-long career with.

That's what I needed: security. After growing up the way I did— abandoned by my mother as a child, and then neglected by the only parent I had left— was it really any wonder that stability was what I craved most of all?

I knew from all of those hours I’d spent researching college majors that a business degree was pretty much universal—you could do anything with a business degree. At least that’s what I was counting on. Because for all my planning, I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.

This music class wasn't even a requirement for my major. It was just an elective so it shouldn't matter that I was stuck with the worst possible partner for the one major assignment we would have all semester. As long as I passed the class that was all that I should care about but for some reason I was annoyed. Okay, I was pissed off. This jerk, who obviously didn't know a damn thing about music, was criticizing
my
taste? At least I
had
taste.

And I was not freaking pretentious!

I angrily jammed the key in the door to my dorm room and threw it open with more force than strictly necessary as though assaulting the door would make me feel better. It didn't.

"Whoa there, Killer,” Tessa said from where she was laying on her bed plowing through an entire package of Oreos. How on earth did she stay so damn skinny eating the way she does? I had one cookie and I couldn’t even button my pants. My ass was its own freaking continent. "Bad day?" she asked with an amused grin.

I grunted noncommittally as I plopped down on my desk chair and opened up my planner. I checked a few things off of my Daily To-Do list in a vain attempt to stop thinking about the tattooed freak who I, unfortunately by some twist of fate, had been paired up with.

"Want a cookie?" She held over the box of cookies.

I glared at her and her box of offensive double-stuffed cookies.

"Dude, what happened?" she asked, more concerned now than amused.

"I don't want to talk about it.

"Okay, so you won't eat my cookies and you won't talk to me about it. I think you missed the memo about this whole roommates-equal-best-friends-forever thing.”

"It's nothing. I'm getting worked up over nothing. It doesn't even matter”

"Obviously, it matters if you're this upset by it.”

I was incapable of holding back any longer. The words came spewing up out of my mouth fast and furious like the spray shooting from soda bottle that had been shaken vigorously and then opened to release the built up pressure— yeah, it wasn’t pretty.

"It's just this stupid jerk I got paired up with in my Music Composition class. He seems like the total slacker type who couldn't give a crap about whether he passes the class or not. He probably just took the class because he thought it'd be an easy A.” I left out the fact that I had similar thoughts when choosing the music class over the math class. “We're supposed to write a song together and we have absolutely nothing in common and it just pisses me off that I'm going to end up doing all the work and I'm going to have to share the credit with him.”

“That’s it?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling stupid. “That's all. See? I'm just being dumb. It's not even an important class so I just need to get over myself.”

"Maybe he just makes horrible first impressions. You can't know for sure that he's a slacker after only one class.”

"He's covered in
tattoos
,” I said meaningfully.

"Oh my God, Hailey! Don’t be a snob! That doesn't mean anything!” She laughed. "Hell, I have tattoos!”

She stood up, turning around so her back was to me and started pulling down her pants.

"Whoa!” I put my hands up over my eyes. “What are you doing?”

"Just showing you that not everyone with tats is a freak.”

I removed my hands from my face and gave her a look that plainly stated that I was still undecided about whether she was a freak or not. She rolled her eyes and promptly pulled up her pants.

“I guess it just makes me nervous having to write a song with somebody else.”

Her phone started vibrating loudly. Her face lit up as she looked at the number on the screen.

“Sorry,” she said with a guilty expression. “Hold on just one sec.”  She belly-flopped onto the top of her bed answering with a girlish, "Hello?”

I watched her smile grow wider as the person on the other end of the phone spoke. It was a largely one sided conversation as she managed to get out some, "Uh-huhs" and "Yeahs" and finally a "Sounds perfect.”

She ended the call and flipped over on her back kicking her legs into the air squealing, "He asked me out!”

"Who?”

"Jonathan!” She said it like I should know who that was. "The guy I told you about that was passing out flyers for his concert next week, remember? He asked if I would come watch his band play and then hang out afterward. Do you want to come with?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It depends on how much homework I have.”

“C’mon! You have to! It’ll be fun.”

“That’s debatable.” I sighed. “What kind of music do they play?”

"Who cares? He's in a band! That's hot even if they suck.”

"I'm going to have to disagree with that sentiment.”

"I think he said he's the drummer. Maybe he can hook you up with the lead guitarist!”

"Boyfriend, remember?”

"Oh, yeah. How could I forget? THE Boyfriend," she said mockingly. "You really should come with me. He said they write all their own songs. Hey! Maybe they could help you with the song for your Music Composition class?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Seriously though, it's like Girl Code; as my roomie, you have to come with me.”

"Fine. Whatever. But I reserve the right to tell him they suck if in fact, they do suck. And I'm bringing Braxton so none of the other band guys get the wrong idea. I'm not going to be some groupie.”

"Famous last words.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I turned my attention back to my planner and started writing out my To-Do list for tomorrow.

“What are you doing?” Tessa asked, peering over my shoulder. This was the second time today that someone had been nosy about my planner.

“Nothing.”

“Is that a planner? Like a real life planner?”

“As opposed to a fictional one?” I asked sarcastically.

“Why don’t you get an iPad or something? It’s way more efficient.”

“I don’t know, I guess I like to actually write stuff down with good ole fashion pen and paper.” And besides, how was I supposed to afford something like an iPad when my lovely father had managed to lose all of my money and I didn’t have a job yet?

My financial aid refund check could not come soon enough. I hated that I had to take out excess student loans, but my dad left me with no choice. I didn’t have any bills. Braxton’s parents had put me on their family mobile plan so I at least had a cell phone, and the meal plan was included in my tuition so I didn’t have to buy food, but until refund checks came in I had about twenty bucks to my name

My scholarship paid for my tuition but it didn't cover the cost of my books so I was going to have to take out a small loan anyway. Since I qualified for a lot more than I needed, I went ahead and accepted a larger amount knowing that the school would give me whatever was left after my semester tuition and books were paid for.

I didn't want to do it of course, all of my researching told me to avoid student loans but I felt like it was my only option. This way I would at least have some money to help me pay for any extra expenses that might come up until I was able to get a job. I didn't want to have to work full-time and try to go to school but I definitely needed to start looking for a part-time job if I wanted to save up and buy a car.

I was ashamed to admit that I wasn't more prepared for the real world. Of course, why would I think about stuff like money for a car and tuition when I knew I had a college fund waiting for me when I turned eighteen? I was going to buy a car over the summer when I finally had access to the account then go off to school with Braxton in the fall and live happily ever after.

I never even considered the possibility that my own dad would steal from me and leave me with nothing.

It was pretty depressing actually, but it made me all the more determined to work hard and create a life for myself so I never had to worry about money or depend on anyone ever again.

Chase

We were at Zach’s house as usual for band practice. The show coming up on the weekend was important so we needed all the extra practice time we could get.

Zach Walker, our bass player, was the only one out of us who looked “normal”. By normal, I meant that he had no tattoos, no piercings, and no crazy hairstyle going on. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. It wasn’t any surprise that girls were all over him after shows.

Since we were just hanging around waiting for our guitarist, Deuce Worthington, to show up, I figured I might as well tell the guys about Hailey.

“So get this, right?” I started to say, “My partner for my Music Comp assignment is this stuck up, anal retentive girl.”

Zach laughed. “Okay, and why is she all those things?”

“She thinks this kind of music,” I gestured around the room, “is
noise
.”

“That’s dumb,” Jonathan said, “Is she hot?”

I shrugged. “She’s okay. Nice ass and big tits.”

“Those are the best parts about a woman,” Zach said with a wink.

“Yeah, but she dresses like she’s forty, and she has this stupid planner with her. She’s one of those girls who thinks they’re too good for everyone, so that cancels out tits and ass.”

“Hell no.” Zach shook his head, his expression serious. “Nothing
ever
cancels out tits and ass.”

I was about to say something in agreement, but Jonathan spoke first. “Uh, guys, Deuce just texted me. He said he’s not gonna be able to make it.”

“What do you mean he’s not gonna make it?”

I was trying to stay calm, but inside I was starting to get pissed off. This was bullshit.

“I dunno.” Jonathan shrugged as he leaned back against his seat. “All he said was that he was busy doing stuff and couldn’t make it today.”

Dude, seriously, what the fuck? We couldn’t perform well as a band if the freaking guitarist failed to show up to practice the day before a show. This wasn’t the first time Deuce had bailed on us last minute. He’d been missing practice on and off for the past few months.

Seriously, I didn’t know what his deal was. One minute he claimed he was really passionate about our music and wanted to grow with the band, but then the next minute he acted like a douchebag and skipped out on practice. What was with that guy?

Zach took a gulp of his beer and snickered. “Yeah, we all know what “doing stuff” really means.”

“What does it mean?” Was I missing something here? Was something going on that’d completely gone over my head?

I’d been busy lately, but the last thing I wanted was to be out of touch with the band. That’s how bands fell apart; when one douchebag made it all about himself and didn’t give a shit about the other guys. I didn’t want to be that guy.

“Really, Chase? You haven’t noticed that he smells like sex all the time?” Zach asked, shaking his head in disbelief at me.

You could count on Zach to notice something like “sex smell” on a person. He’d been with so many girls that I’d lost count once he hit the double digits. I didn’t think he’d ever find a girl who could tie him down.