*Keefe POV*
BANG BANG BANG!!! Bangs Boy and his other band members beat on the drums, as he goes crazy with the guitar.
"Remind me why we came here?" I ask Linh. Let me give this situation a little context. We (the crew) are sitting in the Song's garage, (their parents aren't home) and listening to the 'Silver Salties' little concert. It sucks.
Is what I wish I could say. You see, the only reason I asked that question (other than to keep up my rep) is because there are no snacks. The music is actually good.
"Silver is my name, salty is my game... AYAYAYAYAYAYAAAA...." Tam belts.
The music is like rap, but the add-libs are rock, and the melody is played heavy metal style. On paper, the music is weird, but once you actually listen to it, it's not bad.
Marcus does a little guitar solo, shaking his hair. He's really good.
Then the drummers do a little sequence, and whatnot. Overall, the performance is spectacular.
"Bangs Boy, you didn't disappoint," I say after the song is over. The band is currently 'taking five.'
"You expected me to?" Tam grabs a juicebox out of the fridge.
"A little, yes."
"Rude," he slams the fridge shut.
"At least I don't have silver bangs."
"At least I'm not blond."
"At least I'm not ugly."
"If you think that, you obviously haven't seen a mirror."
"You wish."
"Why would I need to wish it if it were true?"
"Cause it's not true."
"According to you."
"That makes it even more valid."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"That means nothing."
"It means everything."
"No it doesn't."
"Yes it does."
"No it doesn't."
"Yes it does."
"No it doesn't."
"Yes it does."
"No it doesn-"
"Okay, how does every argument Keefe gets into end like this?" Foster asks, while scouring the pantry for food. She looks cute with her hair tucked behind her ear, looking hungrily for something to eat.
"Good question," Linh replies from the cabinets.
"I'm hoping for a good response, too," she turns to stare straight at me.
"Well you see-"
"He started it," Tam accuses, pointing a finger at me.
"No, he did."
"Come on now, don't be childi-"
"No, he started it."
"No, he started it."
"It was him!"
"It was him!"
"It was him!"
"It was him!"
"It was you!"
"No, it was completely you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"No, me!" he'll fall for this one, alright.
"No, you." Okay, I underestimated him.
"I see you're a worthy opponent."
"A first grader is a worthy opponent," Tam rolls his eyes and sucks the rest of the juice from his juicebox. "Ahhhh," he throws it into the garbage can, but misses.
"This is why you get benched during basketball," I smirk. I have him here.
"Throwing things into the garbage is hardly a fair representation of my skills." He walks over to the garbage can and picks up the juicebox, "I only missed by an inch," he mutters.
"Yeah, only an inch."
Tam scowls. "And for your information, I do start."
"You do? Huh, I didn't even notice, I guess you're not that much of a presence on the court."
"I average fifteen points!"
"And I average 23.7. Yes, I did the math."
"I've gotten more double-doubles than you!"
"I've gotten more triple-doubles!"
"Show off!"
"Loser!"
"Egotistical!"
"Anti-social!"
"Blond!"
"Emo!"
"That's not really an in-"
"Tam, get back here, we need to practice more. Break is over!" Marcus calls.
"Coming!" he hollers back, and he jogs off, but not before doing the 'I'm watching you' signal.
"I would flip you off, but that's inappropriate!" I smirk. I clearly won that argument.
Who do you think won the argument?
Hope you liked it!