The Deal

Before

I was never brave.

Few months back I joined a band. Parker had insisted that I play guitar for 'Soulless'',alongside Jeremiah the bass man and Gore the drummer. But I never wanted to.

'Yo Slade! Here's a Soulless T-Shirt and the band's practice schedule. We have zero tolerance for lateness, and do not even think about bringing your girlfriends to band practice. Our basement is strictly boyzone.' Parker threw an awful puke green T-Shirt at me and shoved a roughly scribbled paper into my hands on the first day of senior year.

'Wait...Parker...what the hell?'

Parker smiled and wrapped his hands around my neck. 'You my friend, isthe chosen one. Thedevil has come to claim yoursoul. You are now part of.....Soulless." Parker's words trailed off in a gravely voice. I knew he was being dramatic, but a chill swept through my body. I trembled.

I shoved the cloth and the paper back at him. "No." I said firmly. but Parker wouldn't take no for an answer. "What do you mean no?" Slightly annoyed, I ignored him and turned to walk away, but with his long strides and persistence, he was able to catch up with me. Damn it.

"Do you know how many people had begged for a spot inSoulless?" I continued to walk. Seeing my disinterest, he continued to pester me. "Soullessis the thing man. It's the next BIG thing." I didn't even spared him a glance. I don't have anything against him, but that doesn't mean I particularly liked him.

Cursing, he abruptly turned and gripped both my arms and turned me to face him. "Colton Slade, do you know what opportunity you have been given? If you walk away, you won't have any second chances. I won't be degrading myself just to put up with your rude behavior."

Letting out a sigh, I answered. "Let me ask you , would you want a guitarist who has stage fright?"

Parker frowned, before he dissolved into laughter. Patting me on the back, he spoke between gasps "You don't want to be aSoullessbecause of stage fright?" He doesn't understand.

"Dude, that was the most ridiculous excuse in band history." He doesn't understand my phobia of being the center of attention. I had tried, but I always doubled up gasping, my hands would shake, my knees would give away. I hate to be in that same position.

I brushed off his comment, other people won't understand. They never did. Once again, I ignored him and walked away. But this time, he never followed. Instead, he shouted loudly when I was a safely across the hall. "Band's practice's at 10!"

'