Being His Melody

Brandon was the face without a name. That lonely picture without a caption. And everything about him, intrigued me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Addy..!" It was the principal. Oh lord, this meant trouble. And the name Addy Williams did not mix well with the word "trouble".  

"Yes Mrs. Daley?" I asked, looking up from organizing my locker. The clock said it was 7:23, 7 minutes before I had to get to class. "There's a new student visiting us tomorrow. His name is Brandon. He'll be your locker neighbor and all that good stuff! So may I ask you to just help him make some friends and feel welcome here?" She asked, she was very warming and softspoken for a principal. "Of course Mrs. Daley, of course" My principal patted my back saying "I know you'd say that" and walked off towards her office.  

"Why does the new student have to be a fricken guy?!" I said aloud to myself. My recent heartbreak left me biting the dusk, and walking on pins and needles with every guy here in town. Surely this one would feel the same way about me. He'd see me, accept me, hear things, then run away. as fast as his little legs could carry him. It was the same with every guy I (knew). All because I made the mistake of dating the jock... And being cheated by him.

"AAAAAADDDDDDDDDYYYYY!!!!" I whipped right around. My best friend Lizzy pounced right onto me. "Whaaatt?" I asked in the bordest tone a girl my age could ever make. "I don't know; Just felt like givin' you good morning hug!" She nudged me, and I chuckled. We trudged off to class, our converse sneakers bouncing their 'pitter-paters' off of the cold hard ground. 

"See you in 3rd period Adds!" Lizzy shouted as I entered the doorway of my class. The lighting in the room was bright, for I had to squint my eyes following the moment I walked in. I hated first period. I usually got to class pretty early, giving the bullies in my class for time to knock me down. And I promise you, every single one of them had ties with Mr. JerkfaceLoser Ex-Boyfriend. More commonly known around here as; Tyler. 

"Hey look, its Mrs. Two-Timing Bitch!" On the outside, I was strong; inside.. Falling apart. Another jock came up. "Oooh who you gunna date now without Tyler around, huh?" He snarled in a harassing, mocking, 2 year-old's voice. I wanted to cry. One week into this new school year and I was treated like this. Kill. Me. Now. 

It wasn't like I'd dumped Tyler. Yeah, he wasn't broken at all. He left me after a year. His broken promises cut me down like shattered glass in my mind ever since he left. Which was almost a month ago. 

"I did not cheat on him!" I shouted. The two boys turned around, their faces covered with condescending looks of a monster. Each had one eyebrow raised, evil smirks painted on as their lips. "Thats not what he told us." One said. "I don't get why everyone thinks you're a fucking 'goody-goody'! All you do is lie and cover shit up!" It was like a game of battleship, and they knew the location of every boat in my fleet. They knew how to tear me down with the words they said. And nowadays, struggling through teenage years.. It seemed like everyone did.  

I sat there, body shaking, my heart frozen. My jaw dropped in complete awe at what the kid had said. I mean.. What if it was true?  

My science teacher walked into the classroom, and every gossip group dissipated back to their assigned seats. Everyone in my group was shy so none of us ever talked much, excluding when we were forced to. I turned in my seat, looked down at my lap and held my breath. I exhaled, my lungs quivering as I did so. I felt a warm tear escape my eye, and roll down my cheek, then land like rain on my jeans. I wanted to cry and let it all out; but at the same time I didn't want to make a scene. I just stayed put and kept everything in. As best as I could. 

After an hour of reminiscing every hurtful word that has struck me in my life, the bell rang and I escaped the torturous class called '1st Period Science'. I darted out of the room, even before the teacher had dissmissed us, I needed to get to my second class, I had friends there. 

"Addy whats wrong hun?" My social studies teacher asked, putting her hand on my shoulder. At school, bullies were roaming the halls like banshees. And the teachers knew, a lot. Just most of them didn't have a spare care to give. My social studies teacher did. 

"I.. I'm... Them... Called me-" I started "-Bullies?" She finished. I covered my face in my hands while she handed me a report slip. This was my second year of having her as my teacher, and it seemed like she knew me well. I filled out the slip, and she administered me to the bathroom. I took the opportunity and went. 

I looked in the mirror. "I suck.. I just suck sh*t don't I?!" I shouted angrily at my reflection. I wasn't one of those girls who looked in the mirror only to see a perfect barbie doll smiling back at them. I had many, many, MANY, flaws. And they showed all the time. In everything I do. 

After wiping my eyes and thrashing my reflection some more, I walked back to class.  

Social studies buzzed by fast, and on my way out my teacher yelled to me, "Addy have a great day!" Which made my day a teensy bit brighter than before. Third class of the day was choir, other days, band.  

I was an alright singer. I barely had the voice, but I surely did not have the look. I used singing to vent my feelings and express emotions words could not. I think that's called passion.. But at my school, it was all about the look. 

If you didn't look exceptional in the signature khakis and red tee (our uniforms) then you didn't get a solo. Even if your voice was so good people got goosebumps listening to you. Easy as that. Me and Lizzy both sat in the back of the choir room on the usual day, looking over sheet music and listening to our iPod's while the flawless girls won solos and speaking parts. People had told me my life was worth living, but at school everything seemed the opposite.  

The rest of the day was all the same. Bell rang, I leave classroom, enter new classroom, sit, mope internally, repeat. After what seemed like months of being at school, the final bell rang, dismissing me to my locker. I had no idea what homework I was required to do, so I just took everything home. My bookbag was heavy, and I had to walk home.. But I deserved it, I figured. My feet hit the pavement in a slow motioned pattern. Right...left....right....left. On and on it continued for a little over a mile. But then I looked up from my feet and stopped square in my tracks.  

Across the street from my house was a moving van, old sweaty men hauling furniture from the large semi and on into the house. There was an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway, and a friendly-looking woman directing the haulers where to drop things in the house. My gaze then caught something else. Their was a boy sitting on the steps down a ways in front of the house. His light brown hair fell lightly over his eyes which were staring down. There was a beautiful chocolate brown guitar resting on his lap. The boy had a deep black pic in one hand, gently strumming the strings of the guitar. His other hand was on the neck of the guitar, his fingers pressing down on the strings in different patterns and positions. His guitar let out a warming, comforting sound. And I could see from a distance he was licking his lip in concentration.  

The wind blew and the boy looked up. I stared into his bright blue eyes for a split second, then panicked and strode off to my house. I ran through my front door, and shut it quick. My backpack leaned against the inside of the door as I heaved in huge breaths of air. I turned and looked out the window. He stared at my house. Then his identity hit me. Brandon.