A Beginning Never Forgotten, chapter 1
"I wish you could be here
To see what you left behind.
I wish you could be here
So I can give you a piece of my mind," Jess yelled into the microphone, leaving the crowd for more. She was the lead singer of a punk band called The Silent Screamers. I know, that sounds like the band would be screamo, but oh well. We didn't care. Apparently neither did the crowd.
Before I go any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Lizz. I am the bass player for The Silent Screamers. I have medium length, chemically straightened hair, with blue and white streaks. I have three piercings on my right ear, two on my left, and my nose had a small stud. I'm about 5'4, making me the shortest in the band. I am 21 years old, and am currently enrolled in the University of South Carolina to make my parents happy. It is the year 2006. Anyhow, back to the story.
Jess (lead singer), Morgan (drummer and best friend), Catie (guitarist and best friend), and I walked off the stage of the small club. We couldn't stay because we all had to attend class tomorrow (Catie, Morgan, and Jess went to USC also). We walked out to the parking lot and packed up our instruments and threw them into the back of Catie's van, while Jess was inside getting our checks.
"Shot gun!" I yelled as Catie got into the front seat. I ran around to the other side and got in. "So Jess, how much did we make?" I asked her as she got in the back with Morgan.
"Well, minus the booze Morgan wasted, 25 dollars each," she sighed, glaring at Morgan who was smiling sheepishly.
"Compared to last week, that sucks. That sucks a lot," Catie whispered as she started her van.
As we pulled out of the small gravel parking lot and started heading toward the highway, the bobble heads on the dashboard started wiggling and, well, bobbing. I put my feet up by the bobble heads and turned on the radio, then immediately turned it back off. Eminem was on, again. "Catie, you need to get your CDs back from Kiffen." Kiffen was our friend who followed us to USC. She was our own personal support group, minus the group. She could cheer me up without anti-depressants.
"I'll work on that," Catie said over the engine that was struggling to stay alive.
"That doesn't sound too good," Morgan stated. "You might want to pull over."
"Yeah," Jess chimed in.
Catie pulled off at the next exit and into the parking lot of a conveniently placed 7-11.
"I need something to drink. I'll ask the guy in there if I can barrow a phone book or something. I'll be back in a few. Meanwhile, scavenge for money to pay the mechanic when he comes."
"Okay," Morgan said.
I walked into the filthy store and walked to the back where they had the drinks. I felt someone looking at me and turned around. The guy behind the counter was staring at me. That is not a good thing. Especially when he looks about 40, has greasy slicked back hair, and is wearing a cheap 50-cent shirt. I turned back around, grabbed a root beer and, to my dismay, walked up to the counter. I put my drink on the counter and took out some money.
Before I could put that on the counter to, the guy said, "Don't worry about this one lady. It's for free."
I was disgusted. He smiled, showing crooked, yellowing teeth.
I slowly put my money back in my pocket and said, "Is there a phone book here that I could borrow? My friend's car broke down, and we need some help." As to why I was opening to this guy, I have no idea.
He slowly looked me up and down and said in a sleazy voice, "What do I get out of it? How are you going to pay me back?"
He had a hungry look in his eyes.
"Last time I checked, there wasn't a price on using phone books." I grabbed my soda and walked out the door muttering, "Asshole."
"Hey guys! I'm going to go check the phone booth over there for a phone book!"
They didn't even pay attention to me. Morgan and Jess were sword fighting with Morgan's drumsticks, and Catie was leaning up against the van, laughing.
"Whatever," I muttered as I walked away.
To see what you left behind.
I wish you could be here
So I can give you a piece of my mind," Jess yelled into the microphone, leaving the crowd for more. She was the lead singer of a punk band called The Silent Screamers. I know, that sounds like the band would be screamo, but oh well. We didn't care. Apparently neither did the crowd.
Before I go any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Lizz. I am the bass player for The Silent Screamers. I have medium length, chemically straightened hair, with blue and white streaks. I have three piercings on my right ear, two on my left, and my nose had a small stud. I'm about 5'4, making me the shortest in the band. I am 21 years old, and am currently enrolled in the University of South Carolina to make my parents happy. It is the year 2006. Anyhow, back to the story.
Jess (lead singer), Morgan (drummer and best friend), Catie (guitarist and best friend), and I walked off the stage of the small club. We couldn't stay because we all had to attend class tomorrow (Catie, Morgan, and Jess went to USC also). We walked out to the parking lot and packed up our instruments and threw them into the back of Catie's van, while Jess was inside getting our checks.
"Shot gun!" I yelled as Catie got into the front seat. I ran around to the other side and got in. "So Jess, how much did we make?" I asked her as she got in the back with Morgan.
"Well, minus the booze Morgan wasted, 25 dollars each," she sighed, glaring at Morgan who was smiling sheepishly.
"Compared to last week, that sucks. That sucks a lot," Catie whispered as she started her van.
As we pulled out of the small gravel parking lot and started heading toward the highway, the bobble heads on the dashboard started wiggling and, well, bobbing. I put my feet up by the bobble heads and turned on the radio, then immediately turned it back off. Eminem was on, again. "Catie, you need to get your CDs back from Kiffen." Kiffen was our friend who followed us to USC. She was our own personal support group, minus the group. She could cheer me up without anti-depressants.
"I'll work on that," Catie said over the engine that was struggling to stay alive.
"That doesn't sound too good," Morgan stated. "You might want to pull over."
"Yeah," Jess chimed in.
Catie pulled off at the next exit and into the parking lot of a conveniently placed 7-11.
"I need something to drink. I'll ask the guy in there if I can barrow a phone book or something. I'll be back in a few. Meanwhile, scavenge for money to pay the mechanic when he comes."
"Okay," Morgan said.
I walked into the filthy store and walked to the back where they had the drinks. I felt someone looking at me and turned around. The guy behind the counter was staring at me. That is not a good thing. Especially when he looks about 40, has greasy slicked back hair, and is wearing a cheap 50-cent shirt. I turned back around, grabbed a root beer and, to my dismay, walked up to the counter. I put my drink on the counter and took out some money.
Before I could put that on the counter to, the guy said, "Don't worry about this one lady. It's for free."
I was disgusted. He smiled, showing crooked, yellowing teeth.
I slowly put my money back in my pocket and said, "Is there a phone book here that I could borrow? My friend's car broke down, and we need some help." As to why I was opening to this guy, I have no idea.
He slowly looked me up and down and said in a sleazy voice, "What do I get out of it? How are you going to pay me back?"
He had a hungry look in his eyes.
"Last time I checked, there wasn't a price on using phone books." I grabbed my soda and walked out the door muttering, "Asshole."
"Hey guys! I'm going to go check the phone booth over there for a phone book!"
They didn't even pay attention to me. Morgan and Jess were sword fighting with Morgan's drumsticks, and Catie was leaning up against the van, laughing.
"Whatever," I muttered as I walked away.
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