My Little Decoy

♪ Speak Softly ♪ {4}

"Please speak softly
Or they will hear us.
And they'll find out
Why we don't trust them." - Conspiracy

The rest of the school day was pretty much uneventful. My patience was wearing thin by the time we were let out for the day, since the gang kept pestering me about trying to come to their idols' concert. Each time, I declined, giving cliché excuses like "oh, well I have homework" or "sorry, curfew's at eight. (Which was true.) Can't make it." But let me tell you, those guys were persistent. In the end, I had to go out the back entrance of the school where the track field was located just so I could avoid their consistent whining. It wasn't as if I just confessed to murdering Oprah Winfrey, so why are they acting as if me not showing up to the concert was such a huge deal?

Because they care.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, frantically glancing around to see who had spoken. I had just left school about fifteen minutes ago and now I was on the way to Lakeside Park, with Rev in my hands. My electric blue gaze collided with nothing, only spotting an empty surrounding.

Tree branches swayed slowly in the breeze, the leaves creating a soft melodic whooshing noise. A stray piece of newspaper rolled across the empty street like a tumbleweed in the desert. Nothing seemed out of place and nobody had spoken.

That's when I realized that the voice who had spoken was my own, just inside my mind. Because they care? Carter, Olivia, Amber, Caden, and Xander. ... It wasn't possible for them to care for a pathetic, broken person like me. It wasn't worth it. I could never be fixed.

Adjusting the backpack on my shoulder, I took out my drum sticks and my Nano, shoving the earphones in my ears and turning the volume up. Twirling one stick in my hand, I tapped off a beat as the first song came on. And then, I was gone.

The music had taken over me once again and I could feel my muscles loosen as I relaxed into the steady rhythm of the song. I continued my slow trek to the park, tapping along the fences that I passed.

"I just wanna run, hide it away," I sang, my deep soprano voice getting lost in the wind as the breeze made my wavy locks blow around my face. Closing my eyes, I sang along to the music, feeling the thrill of performing although no one was around to see me. And that was when I liked it best. "Run because they're chasing me down. I just wanna run, throw it away. Run before they're finding me out."

By the time the third chorus had ended, I reached my destination and struck the final note, opening my eyes to meet face to face with the gate entrance as I sang, "I just wanna run."

Glancing through the little slits in the gate, I noticed that the park was bustling with people today, and I figured it must be because of the Tilted Reality performance. I just hoped that no one claimed my spot at The Bench. Shifting my sticks into one palm, I used the other to push the iron wrought gates open, letting it swing as I walked through the frame into the park.

There was a reason the place was called Lakeside and I watched as the afternoon sun's golden hues sparkled down onto the small man-made lake down the hill. Allowing myself a small half-smile, I continued my drumming reverie as the next song came up. Everywhere I glanced, posters and flyers for Tilted Reality's performance were plastered onto the trees, and I rolled my eyes at how much of a deal this was. I mean, come on. We were in Seattle; the heart of music. Bands like this weren't a one in a lifetime thing. Now unless they were Nirvana or Jimi Hendrix, I wouldn't rest my case. Humming quietly now since there were spectators around, I crossed the vast sea of romantic picnic-getters, the jungle of little kids swarming around their playground, and soon stumbled upon my oasis. My bench was finally in sight.

It always took a long time to fully circle the lake and it was further away from the entrance, which was why not many people relaxed by the back of the lakeside where my lovely bench was placed. By lovely, I meant that the wooden seat was starting to deteriorate. Ivy crawled up the legs and whenever I sat down, and a loud creaking sound was heard. Each time I would wonder if that would be the day that my butt went sailing onto the ground along with broken splinters. Yet, it still held a source of mysterious beauty that kept my interest. This was why I only sat at this bench whenever I came to Lakeside. It was lonely, and in a way so was I. Sure, I had so-called friends, but unable to feel any emotion except negative ones, I found myself lonely in my own little world too.

So, I took a seat on the old, rickety bench and sat Indian-style, with my legs on the bench and crossed. Rev was in my hands, music was blasting through my ears, and the sun was shining on the surface of the water, producing a beautiful sight that I could never really get used to. And at that moment, everything was perfect.