Title: Atticus

Author: Mai Lynn

Started: March 18, 2005

Revised: June 4, 2005

Finished:

If you're curious, the revised means a bit more description, information, and a MUCH stronger opening.

Warnings: This story will contain slight language, talk of abuse, racism, discrimination, self mutilation, and possible sexual situations. But it'll also have humor, music, badly done lyrics, romance, and the telling of a struggling band in the Heart of Dixie.

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The lights flared in tune to the pumping music of the high school DJ, who was currently switching the CDs to meet the demand of the swarming mass of bodies below. The gym floor was filled with students, all dressed in apparel that they deemed popular. The normally spacious gym was crowded, especially since it had been cut in half. A large tarp connected to the center beam of the gymnasium separated the dancing throng of young bodies from the darkness engulfing the other side. Across from the tapestry was a large platform where the DJ's speakers and system sat.

It was Jacksonville High's Sophomore Exclusive dance; a dance for the students who were still too young in high school, yet too old to be considered fresh meat.

Regardless of their status, the students were lost in the sea of rhythm and hormones, hopping and swaying to each other, guided by the steady tempo and bass vibrating throughout the small building. Their black and neon world slowly began to stop however, as the music began to fade and the base turned into nothing more but shallow echoes.

The teenagers, feeling lost without their momentum, turned their heads in the darkened room. Murmurs began filling the hollow silence and although a word could not be deciphered from the low noise, all seemed to hold the same question:

Where's the music?

As though to answer the unspoken, yet spoken, question, the sudden shrill note of a guitar pierced the sophomores into silence. It was followed by another, yet more subtle note. The students felt the vibration of drums. It was akin to the beat of a heart; the sound one hears pounding in his ears after running for a long time. The sophomores were confused. Where did the music come from? In time with the growing speed of the guitars and drums, a low mellow voice softly sang over the gymnasium, demanding to be heard.

The world has come to an end
Oh wait, that’s just in my head
Boredom, the ultimate weapon
Mr. Whoever, the inane killer
Augh, just freakin’ SHUT IT!

At the building scream of the male voice, the two guitars suddenly screamed into life and the black curtain at the far end of the gymnasium lifted. The lights flew back into life, streaming across the student body with their neon wings. The students found themselves screaming into the music without reason, joining their entertainers.

Teacher, raise the hand
Can’t speak, can’t demand
Teacher, democracy is at an end
Can’t lead, can’t command

The entertainers were three people; two boys and one girl. One of the boys, a bit stockier than the other, lifted his head to the microphone, his mouth open and crooning the tense words. The students could not stop their bodies as they joined in the flight to the music, swaying their bodies as one to the pounding live music. It sent shivers up their spines, fire onto their skin, and a curling scream from their throats.

They felt as one.

Aw, little Ms. Mary Jane
Lookin’ sweet in that outfit
Gah, you sluts are so freakin’ lame
Whores and killers leaning science and art
Augh, just freakin’ KILL IT!

To the right of the lead singer and guitarist, was another boy. The bass of the band, he also felt the rising ambition of the crowd and began to play with more fever. Shivering with excitement, he looked over to the lead singer. The teenager was currently lost in the song, bellowing the lyrics at the top of his lungs while moving his body erratically to the beat of the drums pounding behind him, and to the guitars surrounding his ears.

The boy shook his head with disbelief as he sung along with his leader, closing his eyes and enjoying the lights flashing around his closed lids.

Teacher, raise the hand
Can’t speak, can’t demand
Teacher, democracy is at an end
Can’t lead, can’t demand

Closing her eyes, the drummer slammed her sticks onto the drums before her again and again, her foot stomping in tune with the song. She knew this song by heart, had been playing it for a long time. But now it was in front of an audience, in the gym full of her peers and with the two people she loved as brothers. Laughing aloud, she opened her eyes to see the swarm of bodies jumping and moving, the blur of the lights sweeping across the gym floor. Her own two band mates, their bodies swaying to the music as though they were apart of the audience down below.

Feeling another unusual burst of laughter swell in her chest, she grinned and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the rhythm of the drums once more and allowing her body to do something she often times held it back from doing; acting like a teenager.

Why the hell am I still here?
Held back a grade due to your
Failure at life as a teacher
I’m not the one who is wrong, your sluts are
Augh, freakin’ STOP IT!

Teacher, raise the hand
Can’t speak, can’t demand
Teacher, democracy is at an end
Can’t lead, can’t demand

“Whoo!” The last strings of the guitar ended the song Teacher’s Whore, the crowd below them going insane with their yelling. The lead singer grinned toothily, looking over to his bass player and to his drummer.

“What’d I tell ya’ll?” he laughed. “We play ‘n git their respect.” While the drummer only rolled her eyes, the bass player couldn’t help but to laugh along.

“Only in your mind, Atticus……” he joked, but as he looked at the crowd full of sophomores like them yelling for more, he knew that his leader was right.

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“Atticus!” the sweet southern voice, Alabama dialect to be exact, slid through the student body of Jacksonville High like a shark through choppy waters.

Just like a shark, it reached its prey. The boy whose name was being called turned his cobalt eyes, rummaging through the crowd to find the source of his name. The boy grinned his usual confident smirk as he spotted Melbourne. Walking over to his friend, he held a hand in the air, which was met with another that was slightly more frail than his.

“G’mornin’,” Melbourne greeted, his pale blue eyes were a bit calmer than his friend’s radiant, piercing stare. “Ready to start our practice for auditions?”

Atticus only laughed, ruffling his bass player’s whitish blond hair, “bah! We ain’t ready fo’ no audition!”

Mel’s face looked slightly confused as the two started to walk into the old building. The grey morning was freezing cold, as it was around seven thirty. The sun barely rose above the far auburn horizon, leaving all that lay in shadows to shiver in a chilling arctic schoolyard.

Melbourne followed Atticus into the warm old building, “what you mean ‘not ready’?”

“Ain’t ready. Don’t go puttin’ words in mah mouth, boy. Lest ya’ll find yaself a new hair style.” Atticus smoothly threatened, to which Melbourne, just as smoothly, smacked the back of Atticus’ head. The boy grabbed his dark brown hair, faking a squeal of pain.

“Augh! Mel’s kickin’ mah ass!”

“Go ahead and yell louder and you’ll get some real ass kicking.” The two boys turned around to see their auburn haired, ice-cold blue-eyed female drummer.

“Well, g’mornin’ to ya, Princess!” Atticus playfully sneered. The girl only snorted rolling her eyes. This action certainly provoked another sly comment, “why, ya’ll turnin’ into Mel here each day. What’s next, cross dressin’? WHOA! Yer already there!” Cackling, he quickly dodged the fist that would definitely have left a bruise on his boyish face.

His comment was hardly true, however, as Sadie dressed just as he did, but with a more feminine flare. Sure, she had never worn a dress, not even a skirt, since she was five. Regardless, the trio definitely had a style that was theirs.

Other kids had called them posers… At least until they heard the music of their band, Atticus, in the Sophomore Exclusive Dance naught but two weeks ago. After listening to their pounding lyrics and to the live music, the band was exempt from almost all teasing by most of the school. Even the fierce Taipans, a group of white male juniors and seniors who believed the followings of the KKK, refrained from teasing the three.

Each band member had a style of clothing that was completely theirs, to the point where no one could copy them without recognition.

For instance, Atticus, the lead singer and lead guitarist, constantly wore dark knee-high socks with shorts that went down to mid-calf… along with bright white sneakers. No one else dared to copy his style, least they would receive an earful from the talkative Southerner.

Melbourne, on the other hand, dressed slightly more conservative. Wearing a simple shirt, jeans, and sometimes a jean jacket, his only staple item of clothing was the fur color along his jacket.

Finally, Sadie, who was from the ‘Yankee’ states, wore her own clothing. She loved to tear apart old shirts and sew them into new ones or onto old jeans. No two pieces of clothing looked alike in her drawers, and no one could copy her at all.

The band Atticus had three estranged members. And yet, the name did not come from the lead singer, but after the father in To Kill a Mockingbird. The noble man who would treat his kids as adults, and try to make his hometown into a honorable hometown, defending a case that would never have any hope of winning against racism and the unfair minds of the descendants of former slave owners.

“He’ll fight fo’ his own morals ‘n principals, even when an entire nation under segregation ‘n racism is tellin’ him he’s wrong.” Atticus had once explained to the school newspaper, “we feel the same, ‘cause we’re a new kinda band down here in Alabama singin’ ‘bout what we believe in, even if our parents and our peers dun like it. We still sing it.”

The three sophomores resided in Jacksonville Alabama, and felt ready to prove that their three year career as a ‘garage’ band deserved national recognition.

All but one member, at least.

“So why don’t you think we’re ready?” Mel asked Atticus as first period began with the usual droning bell. The boy only grinned to his friend, winking.

“I say it’s time t’add a new member.” Sliding his shirt off, he began getting ready for gym class. Mel’s eyes stared at him in disbelief, refraining from undressing at the current moment.

“What!?” He finally sputtered out. Other sophomores and a few juniors filtered into the room, chatting loudly on the bright September morning.

“What?!” Atticus mocked him before pulling on his gym shorts. “Hm…… I’m thinkin’ of goin’ shirtless today. What ya think?” The teenager flexed his muscles. While a bit stocky, the almost 16-year-old actually had a bit of muscle. Atticus was known for being shirtless as much as possible- especially during the summer.

“I think you’re nuts!” Mel took off his fur collared jacket, hanging it on the hook in the boy’s room locker. “A new member? We’ve been together for-“

“Fer three years ‘n I have some new ideas.” Atticus looked to his friend with a serious expression, “an’ the way I figure it, we need a new member. Jus’ the three of us won’t make it, Mel. It’s still a month ‘n some ‘fore auditions start. We got time.” Mel sighed, placing a hand to his head.

“I swear, ev’ry day you somehow find a new way to give me a headache….” Atticus only laughed, slapping the back of his comrade. Mel winced, biting his lip and giving Atticus a frown. Getting on his shirt for gym, Atticus hopped in place a few times before grinning to his friend.

“Headache or not, hurry up ‘n change, we got dodge ball t’day!” The dark haired boy patted Mel’s shoulder as he left with the other boys, leaving Melbourne alone.

Making sure no one was there, Mel quickly dressed into his gym clothes. Sighing, he began to walk out of the locker room and into the gym.

‘Dodge ball…. Just what I need,’ he thought. Although that bothered him immensely, the thought of a new band mate was worse. Looking around at all of the kinds gathering on the white taped line to the old wooden floor, Melbourne found that he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

‘Any of them could be it.’ He looked between the sophomores and juniors. Jocks, nerds, farm boys, posers, all sorts were there, standing in their shorts and their shirts, ready to start exercising.

Melbourne couldn’t stand the thought of sharing his Mecca with them at all.

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