Notes from Ian

Chapter 1: August

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     Walking through the halls, the duo found that nothing had changed. Sure there were new freshmen, but they acted timid in light of their new surroundings just like the last batch had. That would change, and they would become confident. The sophomores bubbled, overflowing with excitement at what the year had to bring. The juniors, seeming all too familiar, lamented their class ranking, wishing they were seniors. And the seniors? Annoyed as the juniors for being trapped in school (they are stricken with senioritis), bubbly as the sophomores about the impending future, and just as scared shitless about the unknown as the freshmen. Senior year: how the time flies.
     The entrance lead to a long hallway, trophies lining the cases on the walls, and portraits of notable alumni hung in dapper frames. The cool white tile led to a massive lunchroom where row after row of tables were placed. The jocks gathered in one corner, the thespians in another or off in their theater. The nerds sat around their books like a campfire in winter, the druggies ghosted their vapes, and the techies fiddled with their gear. Somewhere in the center of the room came the succulent drift of pentatonic scales in variations of minor keys.
     Looking at each other, Raven and August progressed forward to where the harmonies reverberated in the atmosphere. When they got close to the epicenter, notes seemed to be flying through the air, striking and distorting as they hit solid objects, and slowly dissipating when they left. At the table sat all of the punks. Shaved heads, gauges, mohawks, piercings, dyed hair, fan tees: the works. These two were home.
     "Hey, the gangs all here. Anyone want to go find their lockers with us?" Dim eyes gazed up at them. They were like hipsters without their coffee.
     "Go on without us. Just let us soak in the misery of being trapped in this hell again." A shaved member said, sulking.
     "Calm down Tony. You haven't gotten any less depressing since summer time." Raven replied. "I'm surprised that you even decided to show up today." Smiling, Tony lifted his head from its resting place on the table.
     "Well I couldn't miss seeing your beautiful face Raven. Or your body either. That mini skirt just makes me want to-"
     "Shut it perv. It's too early for your shit." A girl with part of her hair shaved said. "Besides, if Mr. Seasons over there wasn't gay we all know she would bone him, and you know? She just might turn him."
     "That's enough Zoe." Raven said in a hard voice, the lightning behind her eyes beginning to spark. "Let's go August." Following her lead, August departed from the punks and journeyed toward the office.
     "So Raven, is that true?" August implored. Pausing, Raven looked at him at him. The lightning behind her eyes glowed gently, sadly.
     "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to. Besides it doesn't matter, we have to find you a guy this year." Just like that the sadness blinked out of existence, and was replaced by the usual teasing joy there. "That is, if anyone will take you."
     "Oh don't worry. I don't need any man to take me. I'm top remember?" Grabbing her throat, Raven pretend gagged, and jokingly stumbled to the office.
     "Hi, I'm Raven Jacobi and I am looking for mine and August Taft's lockers." An unsmiling secretary moved her fingers rapidly across a keyboard. The hypnotic pitter-patter abruptly ended with a hard thud, and the sound of printing.
     "Raven Jacobi, and August Taft. Here you two are. Have a wonderful day and remember. Go Primates." Said the secretary in a humorless voice, handing them sheets that had combinations on them. Clearly she loved her job more than mere words could express. Rotating swiftly, Raven clinked off down one of the expansive hallways.
     "Come on Taft! Let's find our new shit houses for this year!" Briskly walking forward, August followed down a hallways that was labeled "music" by a silver plaque mounted into the side of the granite wall. As the progressed, various classrooms appeared to them. They passed a group of four black men harmonizing for a quartet in a room labeled "Choir I." Discorded trumpets sounded tuneless from another compartment marked "Brass III." Moving along cellos, violins, tubas, sopranos, clarinets, altos, flutes, and bassists all filled the air with their unique sounds when the passed rooms devoted to their craft.
     "At least the hallways won't be deadly quite here." August said.
     "Yeah, but thinking will be impossible. No quite. Ever." Stooping down, Raven spotted their lockers and ushered August forward. "All right," she said as she opened her locker and locked her backpack inside. August removed a dark black pen, his favorite, and closed up his satchel bag. A loud bell droned above them, and students flooded through the halls in search of their classes.
     "See you later Raven. Don't kill anyone today unless absolutely necessary!" Smiling August started to walk away.
     "Only Ramona! Bye August!" Raven departed down a hallway labeled "Arts" and was soon lost in a mesh of students.
     "Alright," August thought to himself "I've got my TA period first for Symphony, then I have AP Art, followed by Graphic Design, and Drawing. Today should be a fun day." He took long strides down the music hallway, and soon reached a room where the most horrible squeaking could be perceived. Upon entering the room, a host of noises and sights assaulted August. Clarinets trying to lubricate their reeds, flutes running through scales, strings tuning to a piano, and a massive amount of talking unheard of by man. This was definitely the right room.
     A small office was located to the side of the expansive room. Inside sat a woman of 40. Wrinkles christened her face, but a firmness still held its place. She wore a black pantsuit that complemented her blonde hair, and a name tag read "Dr. Wolfgang." Knocking gently, August entered.
     "Dr. Wolfgang? Hi, I'm-"
     "August yes." A Germanic accent stated. "You are my TA and I expect from you the discipline that I require from my players. No exceptions. You are to follow my ever command, exactly as I state them. Do you understand?"
     "Yes Dr. Wolfgang. Is there anything you need me to do for you?"
      "Follow me and observe. How I conduct the students. Most teachers assistants these days are used for paperwork. This is complete nonsense. Schools are made for learning, and students are made to be taught. So I will be teaching you about conducting, and basic music theory. You will be instructed to lead the symphony at times, and I expect you to understand what you are leading them to do. Is this clear." Swallowing, August nodded. This woman meant business. Stepping into the center of the room, Dr. Wolfgang donned the podium just as Queen Elizabeth would ascend to her throne. Picking up a baton, she tapped her stand lightly.
     "Attention class." She stated in a calm demeanor. The students too engrossed in their instruments failed to notice their conductor. "I said, ATTENTION CLASS." She commanded in a voice of power. Everyone froze, and stared at her in abject terror. "Thanks you. Class you will respect me, and you will respect my TA August. I will be leading you in your musical journey, and August will be assisting me. Disobedience will not be tolerated. Among this includes being late to class." Suddenly the door to the symphony room opened, and in stumbled a boy. Blonde hair in a short fohawk, a white buttons down shirt, pressed navy blue jeans, black cap toe shoes, and deep green eyes.
     "Ah. Mr. Ian Redding. We've just been talking about our late arrival policy. How nice that we have an example to work with."
     "Ian Redding." August quietly whispered, tasting the name, rolling it around in his mouth. "Ian Redding," he thought "I'm going to make you mine."