I want to be on TV / the fabulous fantasy life of Hesta, chapter 9
As I walked out the door and got in the car, my heart was pounding. What did that mean? I was confused and all over the place for the rest of the night. I couldn't get to sleep and when I did I dreamed of Stokell kissing me. We were in his bedroom, making out passionately when Harry walked in and started shouting. Then Sam came out from behind him and took Stokell away from me. Harry was still shouting, but it was like he was trying to give me advice and Sam was trying to help me. I couldn't hear what Harry was saying, so he stormed out and I was left alone in Stokell's mess, not knowing what had just happened, or what to do.
I woke up and it was Sunday, I had an hour to get ready. I got to the forum just in time to hear Stokell's voice coming from one of the rehearsal rooms. Me being me I eavesdropped;
"I lead her on last night"
"That's cruel, did it work?"
"She'll be wrapped around my little finger in no time"
"Or something else hey!"
"Shut up"
"He he he"
So that's the game he wanted to play. I could throw my own dice too if I wanted. And I rolled a six.
"Hi guys, right, I just decided that I don't think we should include shut-eyed vision in our set list at the moment, it's just that only air would go better with the other songs"
Harry smirked at Stokell, who looked like he was about to explode.
"But then none of the sings in our set list will have mine or Harry's music in them" His blue eyes were glaring,
"So it's not like we've practised that song enough anyway, it's not that great"
"Still"
"Still what? I'm sure Harry agrees with me, don't you Harry?"
We both turned to look at him hiding behind his drum kit,
"I don't want to get involved"
"You are involved," snarled Stokell, his jaw stiff
"Um... we should work with what we're best at first, and work on the other stuff later"
"So you're agreeing with her? She's been in the band for two minutes, and already she's won you over"
"No, I... "
"Just forget it"
And with that Stokell slumped down into a chair and pulled his trucker cap further still over his eyes.
---------------------------------
It turned out to be a good thing that Stokell was in a bad mood that day. He made 'label monarchy' sound angry and aggressive. He thrashed away at his guitar like he was playing to a thousand people. I knew what I had to do before we next went on stage.
We practised for hours and left tired with numb hands. We carried on this way for a few weeks. It was a good routine. We'd practise our set lists, and older songs every day at school, and at the weekends we'd add music to some on my lyrics and practise newer material. Eventually we'd perfected the shortest set, and we were ready for our first musical challenge - open-mike.
We were all nervous that night; we didn't know what people would make of us. Our music was quite different from the old Sonit 852, we were the enzymes now and we only hoped to digest people's compliments. That was before we saw Sam, sitting at the front of the hall, surrounded by the rest of the Kendra tribe. That was just the kick Stokell needed.
I stepped on stage first. I'd ironed my hair poker straight with my ceramics, and my make-up was shades of pink and white. I was wearing a green shirt I'd found in a charity shop and jeans. It was low mixed with high maintenance.
As I got the sound levels right, Stokell bounded on stage, his white tie rippling behind him. He picked up his guitar and waited, quietly confident at his ability to stand and look cool. Finally on came Harry, grinning like a clown. He picked up his drumsticks and began to beat.
I woke up and it was Sunday, I had an hour to get ready. I got to the forum just in time to hear Stokell's voice coming from one of the rehearsal rooms. Me being me I eavesdropped;
"I lead her on last night"
"That's cruel, did it work?"
"She'll be wrapped around my little finger in no time"
"Or something else hey!"
"Shut up"
"He he he"
So that's the game he wanted to play. I could throw my own dice too if I wanted. And I rolled a six.
"Hi guys, right, I just decided that I don't think we should include shut-eyed vision in our set list at the moment, it's just that only air would go better with the other songs"
Harry smirked at Stokell, who looked like he was about to explode.
"But then none of the sings in our set list will have mine or Harry's music in them" His blue eyes were glaring,
"So it's not like we've practised that song enough anyway, it's not that great"
"Still"
"Still what? I'm sure Harry agrees with me, don't you Harry?"
We both turned to look at him hiding behind his drum kit,
"I don't want to get involved"
"You are involved," snarled Stokell, his jaw stiff
"Um... we should work with what we're best at first, and work on the other stuff later"
"So you're agreeing with her? She's been in the band for two minutes, and already she's won you over"
"No, I... "
"Just forget it"
And with that Stokell slumped down into a chair and pulled his trucker cap further still over his eyes.
---------------------------------
It turned out to be a good thing that Stokell was in a bad mood that day. He made 'label monarchy' sound angry and aggressive. He thrashed away at his guitar like he was playing to a thousand people. I knew what I had to do before we next went on stage.
We practised for hours and left tired with numb hands. We carried on this way for a few weeks. It was a good routine. We'd practise our set lists, and older songs every day at school, and at the weekends we'd add music to some on my lyrics and practise newer material. Eventually we'd perfected the shortest set, and we were ready for our first musical challenge - open-mike.
We were all nervous that night; we didn't know what people would make of us. Our music was quite different from the old Sonit 852, we were the enzymes now and we only hoped to digest people's compliments. That was before we saw Sam, sitting at the front of the hall, surrounded by the rest of the Kendra tribe. That was just the kick Stokell needed.
I stepped on stage first. I'd ironed my hair poker straight with my ceramics, and my make-up was shades of pink and white. I was wearing a green shirt I'd found in a charity shop and jeans. It was low mixed with high maintenance.
As I got the sound levels right, Stokell bounded on stage, his white tie rippling behind him. He picked up his guitar and waited, quietly confident at his ability to stand and look cool. Finally on came Harry, grinning like a clown. He picked up his drumsticks and began to beat.
