January, 1964
I walk through the doors of school, instantly feeling lonely. No one here was my friend, my one friend dropped out two years ago. As I walked to my locker, I watched people through my white sunglasses. The jocks, nerds, bitchy senior girls, you know, the usual. I threw what books I didn't need into my locker and walked to my first class, History. I sat in my usual seat in the back, watching as a nerdy guy sat in Keith's old seat next to mine.
I smiled to myself. I was going to see Keith for the first time since Christmas. This morning, I found a note that Keith had written on a paper airplane and sent into my room. He asked me to meet him at the music store, where we practice, after school. Yes, practice. Keith plays the drums and I play guitar and sing a bit. I dont play in a band, but Keith has played in a few. You see, I'm not allowed. Oh, I probably should introduce myself. My name is Kenleigh Baker, I'm in my eleventh year of school, and I live in Wembley, a part of London, England. My dad is British, and my mom is American. I got my dad's looks and my mom's accent. So, naturally I was already an outsider in school. It didn't bother me, I met my best friend, Keith John Moon when I was fourteen, and we became inseparable. He taught me so much; how to annoy a teacher without getting caught, how to smoke without smelling like nicotine, how to drink and not smell like alcohol, and we have a very large collection of fireworks.
But Keith is so much more than just my crazy-ass friend (although he is just that), he always takes care of me. Once he almost broke a guy's hand because he tried to mess with me. Keith also listens to me when I need to vent, when I need a hug, he's there.
And I often do need hugs. My dream has always been to be a famous musician, but my dad hates that. He is always telling me that I'm worthless, that I cant ever amount to anything, you know, stuff like that. He yells a lot, at mom as well as me. And one thing I have learnes over the years is that I have very fragile emotions, and my feelings are hurt very easily. Especially by my dad.
But even in the worst of times, Keith is there for me. I couldn't have asked for a better friend.
As school drags on, I eat alone in the cafeteria. Usually Keith and I would cause trouble during lunch, whether it be setting off fireworks in the park, trying to steal some alcohol, or just wandering through Wembley, just talking.
As soon as school is out, I rush down to the music store. The man who owned the place, Mr. Dawson, an older man with grey hair and glasses, lets Keith and me play in the back room. As soon as I enter the shop I can hear Keith on the drums, and I grin. I sneak past Mr. Dawson, who is asleep at his cash register, and go to the back room. Keith sees me and drops his drum sticks, clammering around his drum set to get to me. I drop my backpack to give my friend a hug.
"You will not believe it!" Keith said, his puppy-dog eyes wide as I sat by him on the tiny couch in the back room.
"What?! Are you coming back to school?" I ask with hope.
Keith laughed. "Noooo, something much better! I joined a new band!"
I shoulda known!
"Awwww Moonie, that's awesome!! Whats the name of the group?" I grin, happy that Keith has been doing more than watch TV since Christmas.
"The Beachcombers! I swear, we'll make it big, too!"
I shake my head, Keith has said this about every band he has been in since he took up drums.
"The Beachcombers, aye? And what are you, a backup singer?" I am forever joking about how Keith lacks a good singing voice.
Keith rolls his eyes as he gets up and sits behind his drum set. "Very funny, Kenleigh, very funny."
I watch as Keith plays a song I have never heard, perhaps he its just a random beat that got in his head, perhaps its a song by his new group. I later pick up one of Mr. Dawson's electric guitars and play with Keith.
Keith and I play until about five, then he walks me home. "I'm getting a place soon," Keith said as we approached my house.
"Really? That's awesome."
"Yeah, mum says if I don't get a job, I have to leave. I barely have any money, though, I guess I should get a job. We haven't even played a gig yet," We stopped in front of my house, and I heard a crash from inside. Dad is mad again...
"You wanna stay over with me tonight?" Keith asks, as he does almost every day when he walks me home and hears shouting from inside. "No, I'm good. You wanna play again at Dawson's tomorrow?"
"Righto!" Keith gives me a salute, like in the army, making me laugh. "Same bat-time, same bat-channel!" Keith gives me a quick hug before jogging down the street to his house.
Well, I guess you can't avoid the inevitable.