How Can I Love My Music Teacher?, chapter 1

I walked into high school the first day of my senior year and rolled my eyes yet again. Everyone except my best friend is a prep or a jock and I hate it. They go around, saying 'like' or 'babe' every two seconds, and I can only count the hours as they go by. At least I have music this year. I came up behind my best friend, Chase, and stood there for a couple of seconds, not realising I hadn't said hello.

"Hey, Chase," I sighed.
"Hey. What's up?" he asked with a smile.
"Same as every year, I want to kill Ashlee," I mumbled.
"Yeah, she's such a... popsicle," he said suddenly, as a teacher walked by. He's kind of a kiss-up, but without good grades, his mom won't let him go to his chosen college, but the Christian one she picked for him. He likes the religion and all, but they don't allow study in punk-rock music.
"You going for music this year?" I asked. He shook his head sadly.
"No, but I heard there's a new teacher. He's only... twenty-something! Just out of college!" he told me.
"Wow." The bell rung. "Okay, see you later, Chase."
"Bye. See you later, too," he replied, then went to his homeroom.

I went to mine and got a good seat way in the back. The teacher mumbled on for a while, then handed each of us our schedules on the way out. For me, I have Math next, then English, Music (YAY!), lunch, and so on. So I went to Math. Not to brag, well, to brag, every year for testing and whatnot, I get almost the full score. I love math and math loves me. It just works. That period went by like a breeze and I trudged to English class. We had to write 'a bit about ourselves', which turned out to be a ten page essay! Stupid! That's 'a bit'?! Whatever. The teacher is retarded. When class was over, I slammed the papers into the teacher's face and stormed off to the class filled with beautiful instruments.

I stopped out side the classroom and straightened myself out, hoping to make a good impression, for I am not a slob or a reckless wannabe. So I did that and walked in the door. No one was there, but I'm positive that the sign next to the door (strangely) said 'Music'. There's instruments in here and everything. A couple of people came in, one a preppy piano girl, the other someone who looked interesting. He had black pants and a black shirt, he was wearing a thin red and black striped tie, worn out Converse, and his black hair was spiked up and messy. I've never seen him before. I walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. He whipped around in a shock, then smiled.

"Hi, are you new?" I asked.
"Yeah, my first year teaching here," he answered. My jaw dropped.
"You?" I finally managed to get out.
"Yeah. Me," he said with a laugh. "It's okay, I'm short, anyone could make the mistake."
"Well, anyone can mistake me for a seventh grader or something," I muttered as I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I'm so short, it's not fair! Actually, I'm about as tall as Mr... whatever his name is.
"Join the club!" he teased. One guy came in and picked up a trumpet. He inspected it and shrugged. He found some sheet music and ruffled through it.
"Fine, maybe I will!" I declared. He smiled. "You really aren't as mean as a teacher, Mr... Mr..."
"Armstrong," he finished. Then he leaned in. "But you can call me Billie, because you're the only real person out of all of these freaks. What's your name?"
"Christine. Okay, Billie, how old are you? My friend says you're young."
"I'm twenty-three," he replied.
"Cool."

No one else came in class over the next five minutes they allow until the next bell for class, so it was only us four, and that includes the teacher.
"Okay, everyone, get an instrument and either sit on its seat or a seat from that stack of chairs in the corner." he told us. Of course, the piano girl picked the piano, and the guy still was admiring the trumpet, so Billie gave him a new mouthpiece for him to put on it. A shared trumpet... gross. And, obviously, I sat down at the drumset. I love the drums. "Everyone has an instrument... so I ask, you all know how to play, am I correct?"
"Yeah, kinda., I answered. The guy answered with a blow on the trumpet, and the girl was already wrapped up with Fur Elise. So, as you probably guessed it, Billie came to me.
"What's the hardest thing you can play?" he asked. I replied with one of my favorite songs' drum part. When I finished, Billie was silent.
"That bad?" I asked with a frown.
"No, it's wonderful. What do you mean 'kinda'?!"
"I don't know some things..."
"Well then, it's good for you that I just learned to play the drums from one of my best friends," he said proudly.
"Do you think you could get him to come and help me?" I joked.
"One second," he went to his desk and picked up the phone. He dialed a number really fast and then he finally spoke. "Hey, Tre, what's up? You know this new job I got? There's a drummer, and..." He held the phone away from him and slammed it down.
"What just happened...?" I questioned.
"Well... Tre's coming. He was yelling how excited he was an all that... and, uh... I guess he's coming over."
"Oh, I was only joking, you know," I said sheepishly.
"Then you're lucky. You're about to get a lesson from the best drums teacher around."
"Awesome..." Then it occured to me, "You never told me what you played before learning the drums."
"Guitar. I love guitar," he said quickly, as if ecstatic to tell.
"I've always wanted to learn to play! You're lucky, my mom always says, 'A drumset is enough for you!' and it's really annoying," I rolled my eyes.
"Maybe I can teach you then, here at school. And if you're really into it, you can come after school or during lunch, you know, before or after eating."

He turned pinkish, then turned away as if looking for something. Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door, then someone burst into the room. I screamed, it scared me. The man about as old as Billie with green hair looked at me and started to me. I got even more frightened, and backed in my seat.
"Help!" I gasped.
"Tre! Stop scaring her!" Billie called to the guy, who immediately stuck out his hand.
"Hello, I'm Tre, Tre Cool, the fan-tab-u-lous drummer of Green Day, and sometimes singer and guitarist," he explained quickly. "Drums!" he exclaimed. He got down on his knees and hugged the drumset. I looked at Billie.
"Heh heh, did I mention he's a bit..." He spun circles next to his head with his finger. I giggled.
"Uh, hello, I guess. Oh! I get it! Tre Cool, as in 'tres' in French, meaning 'very', which means... you're very cool?"
He looked at me. "Thanks! I don't get that often..." and coughed "Billie," he said fakely.
"Sure, sure," he replied scornfully. I smiled to myself.

"Drums. Learn. Drums!" Tre shouted, earning him a glare from the piano girl, who still didn't stop playing.
"Okay. Can you do one of your songs?" I asked. He did say he was in a band called 'Green Day', whatever that is.
"Yeah! Which one?" he asked stupidly. I just looked at him.
"I don't know any of them..." I answered.
"Oh, right. Billie! Which one?" Billie just looked at him. "Fine! Dominated Love Slave it is! But... of course I'll have to sing it... okay, here we go!"
"Tre... I don't know if it's a good idea... where's your guitarist?"
"Good point, you do the drums as usual, I'll do the guitar as usual!" He jumped up and grabbed an electric guitar and plugged it into an amp. Billie cautiously sat at the drums.
"It's not my fault if I'm fired, and you'd better get me a job if I do get fired," he warned. Tre nodded and scattered some chords. Then he mixed them together well and it was... a strange thing... then he began to sing.

"I want to be your dominated love slave, I want to be the one who takes the pain. You can spank me when I do not behave, smack me in the forehead with a chain. 'Cause I loooove feelin' dirty, and I loooove feelin' cheap, And I loooove It when you hurt me. So driiiive them staples deep. Yee-hoo!!!"

Then Billie started this weird but amazing beat. He looked like a toy or a robot or something, just... strange. Tre continued to sing his kinky love song and when he was done, I was on the floor laughing, the others just ignoring us. "All By Myself now!" Tre exclaimed.
"No, Tre, I'd definately be fired," Billie told him.
Tre frowned, then sighed. "Oh well. At least I tried."
"This is my lesson here, peoples! Teach me that song! I love it!" I demanded.

Forty-five minutes later, I knew it, and class ended. I hugged Tre goodbye and waved to Billie. The other classmates had left, so I left for lunch as soon as Tre went out the door. Tre went out the front door of the school. Then I realized I had left my drumsticks in the classroom. I turned back.
"Back already?" Billie asked with a laugh.
"Drumsticks..." I said as I picked them up.
"Oh, right," he said. He looke down at his desk and shuffled some papers.
"Uh, Billie...? You seem kinda... sad or something," I told him. He just shrugged, still with his back turned to me.
"If I'd tell you, you'd laugh or rat me out," he simply put it.
"I won't, I promise."
"You can't, you don't even know what it is."
"Come on, I think that we were making some progress as the friend-type-relationship-thing."
"Uh... okay. Well, as you know, I'm still kinda young, you did mistake me for a student... and... um... I think... I think..." he started. I went to him and slapped him on the back.
"Spit it out!" I said playfully.
"I think..."
"Yes, we've established that," I encouraged.
"I think I like you." he blurted out. I just stared, in complete shock.