unexpected (jacob whitesides)

chapter two

Chapter Two

 

<Brandi>

 

 “Troy give me my guitar back!” I screeched, chasing him up the stairs. You could hear the pick being tossed around in the body of guitar, and the noise was excruciating. My hair bounced on my shoulders, something I always hated. That’s why I put it up in a ponytail all the time, but this morning I couldn’t find a hair tie.

 “Never!!” He yelled behind himself, before turning back around and hitting straight into the wall in front of him. I heard the clash of him falling, and the deathly sound of my guitar breaking in several pieces.

 “Brandi I am so sorry oh my gosh.” He stuttered, stumbling off the ground quickly. I walked up the remaining steps, carefully stepping around the pieces of wood that now lay on the hallway floor.

 I crouched down to the remains of my guitar, picking up the big chunks. There was no way I could get this fixed, and if I went to the store and asked them to they would just laugh in my face. Even a non-musician could see that this was unfixable.

 "Bran I am so sor-“

 “Troy, it’s fine just,” I exhaled, trying to calm myself down, “Just go in your room before I rip your hands off.” I joked. I was always sort of babying him, since I was born before he was. So I guess you can say that I kind of act as a big sister to him, even though we’re the same age.

 I looked up at him, seeing that he was about to start saying something again, but I raised my eyebrows as an action to just shut up. He tucked his lips in, nodded and pivoted the other way to his room.

 “What has he done to you?” I whispered to myself, picking up the neck of my guitar.

 The strings that were once tightly strung from end to end of the guitar were now flopping aimlessly as I picked up the neck. In the middle of the pile my pale blue pick was laying in-between a split piece of the inside of the guitar that had the company on it.

“Tay-“                        “lor”

 I carefully put the pieces next to each other, making them fit like puzzle pieces; literally. As I sat there by the guitar, occasionally picking up a piece and fiddling with it, the front door opened. I recognized the thousands of chains clinking together, which meant that Lacey was home from her lifeguard station.

 She did her usual routine, throwing her towel down the laundry chute, then putting her whistle and keys in the stand we had next to the front door. Then she took off the squeaky flip flops and threw them in the closet before running up the stairs to change into dry clothes.

 She did it everyday, every summer for the past 2 years. I would join her as a lifeguard but I suck at swimming so everyone in trouble would drown if I were on duty.

 I heard her slippery feet come up the steps, so I prepared myself for the amount of questions she was soon going to bombard me with.

 “Brandi? I have some goo- what happened to Jae? Are you okay? Do you need space? Who did this? Do I have to beat them up? Did you get a splinter?” She rushed over to the sight, putting both hands on my shoulders.

 I laughed at the last question, and the fact that she called my guitar by the name she gave it herself; since she insisted that I had to give it a name. “Lace I’m fine, just a little shocked that’s all.” I shook my head, tearing her hands off my shoulders.