Drum Kits and Stage Dives

Chapter One

The clock face mocked him.

02.01

Amazing, he thought sarcastically. It was the third time this week that he’d woken up at the exact same time. He knew - from countless other nights just like this - that sleep was unobtainable, and reached across to flick his bedside light on with a heavy sigh. He had to blink a few times before his eyes grew accustomed to the light, wincing as he looked about the room. Everything was as he had left it the night before. Clothes neatly folded on his computer chair, which was tucked under a smart desk. Nothing littered the soft, carpeted floor, and the computer screen on his desk was left inky. The knowledge that he had no chores to complete brought an appreciative smile to his lips. Lifting the covers up and off his body, he attempted to stand to his feet and, after taking a few seconds to find them, was met with his reflection in the mirror the minute he stood.

“What a mess,” he mumbled, taking note that his hair was untidy as usual. Shaking his head in vague reply, he began making his way into the en suite. The room was a light blue in colour, and the bath, shower and sink looked as if they had been cleaned only yesterday. Truthfully, they had been: his mum liked to keep things clean. Tugging his boxers from his hips and traipsing into the shower cubicle, it took one turn of the shower dial and he was in business. The warm water surged from the showerhead to splash down against his well-toned, slightly tanned body.

His eyes closed as the feel of the water pushed him off into a world of daydreams, and soon he found his cheeks flushing. A grin spread across his lips at the thought of a certain classmate, and the thoughts remained with him as he started washing his hair. By the time he’d finished in the bath, his hair smelled of expensive shampoo and his body of strawberry shower gel. He was soon wrapped in a fluffy tumble-dried towel, examining his wet hair in the mirror. It turned an even deeper brown when wet, to the point where it could be described as black. Pulling the towel from around his waist, he dried his hair roughly before tending to the rest of his body and finally leaving it to rest on the radiator.

Back in his room, he threw on a fresh pair of black boxers, baggy jeans and a shirt that had the word ‘Ollie’ scribbled across its front in a graffiti-type font. Upon checking the mirror once more, his eyebrow arched at the way his now-dry hair flopped about his forehead. Thank goodness for hair gel, he thought as he eased some from the tube onto his fingertips and brought it up to his dark brown locks, mussing them into an array of spikes. A few patches had been arranged artfully, which was what usually drew most attention to him at school. The result was always perfection. To him, his hair was his best feature. Satisfied with his appearance, he let his eyes scroll across the room. They fell on the drum kit in the corner of the room. A familiar itching to play coursed through his hands; he had to refrain, however - it was still early.

He wondered what he would spend the next four hours doing, before the rest of the house woke up. Slumping down at his desk, he pulled an A4 pad of plain paper and a pencil his way, gently tapping the paper for a few seconds. After a few moments' thought, he shoved a pair of headphones on - the kind that encircled your neck, rather than risk messing up the coiffed perfection that was his hair, of course. He took out a CD from the stereo above him, replacing it with another. The Foo Fighters blared into the headphones, and with that he turned his attention to the A4 pad in front of him.

By the time his alarm clock sounded in the background, he’d worked on quite a few pieces that he’d been thinking of starting for the past few months. Leaning back on the chair to switch the alarm off, he returned to the desk to take a look at the finished product. Three adverts for a band he wished to start up, asking for a guitarist, lead singer, bass guitarist and possible other vocalists. He’d made three different adverts, for the main music room, the 6th Form Common Room and the year 10/11 Common Room and each one was individual in its own way. He couldn’t quite believe that he’d spent so long on them.

A quick glance at the clock told him he had enough time, as usual, to get some drumming practice in, and with the Foo Fighters still fresh in his mind he found himself going over a few of their songs. It was such a fulfilling way for him to escape and relax: when he was drumming, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be, except perhaps at a fully-booked gig.

It was a knock on his door from his mum that brought him back to reality, and he neatly placed the drumsticks back on his stool. He missed his drums when he was at school, as silly as it sounded, but they had become a part of him. Putting his thoughts behind him, he took his things for school downstairs, glancing one last time in the mirror before he got downstairs. His hair was fine.

His parents and his younger brother, James, were already sat around the breakfast table. It was a quite small wooden table, and each of the seats was set out with a napkin and a placemat. The breakfast table stood in their large kitchen, which was filled with shades of green. As Dave pressed his drawings against the flat surface next to his empty space and his bag beside his chair, it was his mother that paid most attention.

“More drawings. You really try hard in that Art class,” she told him with a smile. Dave smiled back at her, shaking his head lightly. He busied himself fixing up a bowl of cereal, but still couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that he’d spent more time working on adverts than his Art coursework.

“They’re not for Art though, Mum. I’m advertising for talented musicians. I’m gonna see about starting up a band again,” he settled down with a bowl of his favourite cereal - coco pops, and waited for someone to scoff at him.

“Another band? You think you’re ready to control it this time?” his father asked with a hint of surprise. Dave was about to reply, but with a mouthful of cereal he was too late, and James interjected.

“He couldn’t play anything before, so this time’s bound to be better,” James blurted with a cheeky glance. Swallowing his mouthful, Dave refused to meet James’ gaze.

“Yeah, right. No, I’m older now, and I reckon a lot of the younger kids will want to join. I was in year nine last time; I think the trauma was enough to put me off until I knew I was ready. I guess I am a better drummer now though,” he said and, not making eye contact with anyone, spooned another mouthful of cereal to his lips.

“I guess you’re right, Dave. Just don’t let this all get in the way of your school work,” his mum replied. James snorted, receiving a smack to the back of his head from his usually gentle mum. “You know he works hard,” she added, and James smirked, his slight hand still caressing the back of his neck.

“Maybe,” he muttered, looking up at Dave, who just stared back at him. The two were quite close, and both knew things about each other that their parents didn’t. James often complained about his brother, but Dave felt they got along just fine.

“When do you get all this work done anyway, David?” his father asked, and swallowing the next mouthful of cereal was a little more difficult. James’ eyebrow rose slightly.

“Well, in free periods, and when I get home…” Dave explained. His father shot him a questioning look, and Dave’s eyes caught James’. He winked.

“I see…” his father replied, looking over at their mother who just pursed her lips in a kind of half-smile that made Dave feel instantly guilty. He wasn’t fantastic at lying, and wondered if he was doing a good job of it this time around.

Deciding that he didn’t feel like slipping up, if he hadn’t done so already, Dave jumped up to his feet. Giving a routine kiss on the cheek to his mum and a pat on the back for his dad, he made for his school bag. He and his brother attended the same school, but Dave preferred to turn up earlier some mornings. His music teacher, Mr Hanley, allowed him to go into school early and drum in the music room before class.

“I’m off; see you guys later,” he chirped, listening for the usual replies. His mum’s ‘take care, love,’ his brother’s ‘see ya,’ and his father’s half-grunt of ‘bye’. If there was one thing he loved more than drumming, he would have had to say it was his family.

However, by the time he left the house, his keys in his bag, and his advertisements safely stored in a folder, his thoughts had taken a different turn. The summer morning was bright, and already the sun heated the skies. He loved days like these. The sky was bright blue, and the grass a dark shade of green; it wasn’t too hot in the mornings, and definitely not too cold. He walked a slow stroll along the usual path that took him to school, his thoughts drifting.

A yell from behind stirred him from those thoughts, and he turned round to face whoever it was. A small smile spread across his lips as he noticed a boy who was about the same height as him, with the same style haircut and clothes as he. Dave didn’t stop, but slowed his pace down until the other boy caught up with him. Dave was unaware that the only real thing that was different about Josh when compared to him was that his eyes were a light shade of blue, compared to his brown ones.

“Heyup, Dave. What you doing going to school so early?” Josh asked, somewhat excitedly. Dave’s eyebrow rose as he looked over at his best friend, who knew that he always went to school early and he even knew the reason why. As always, Dave couldn’t give a straight answer to people who asked stupid questions.

“Felt like eying up Miss Vanhough. I heard her boyfriend dumped her,” Dave replied flatly, glancing up as he walked. Josh’s eyes lit up; he’d been staring at Dave quite obviously.

“Oh, right. Reckon she’ll put your skills with those hands to practice?” Josh asked, making Dave cringe and make a noise that should have warned Josh that he didn’t appreciate his jokes.

“What are you doing out of bed this early?” Dave fired the question at Josh and looked over at him curiously.

“Same thing as you,” He paused, looking up at Dave as if he might say ‘stalking Miss Vanhough?’ or something else equally witty, but when nothing came he continued. “Practicing for the concert.”

Dave felt his bliss crash down all around him and felt sure the bottom of his stomach had just fallen out. “Oh, man, that’s today. I can’t believe I forgot…” he muttered. Josh was laughing lightly and moved his arm to rest on Dave’s waist, pulling him closer as they walked. Dave made no move to push Josh away.

“I can,” Josh offered, letting his hand drop away from the other boy, discreetly but purposefully brushing his hand across Dave’s ass as he did so. “I’m gonna go through the Common Room.” Josh stated as they arrived at the edge of school, where the 6th formers' nominated area was located. “Catch ya later!” he yelled as they parted, leaving Dave to walk alone towards the Main Entrance to the school.

The school building was quite large at the front. A wrought iron fence outlined the perimeter and the gate was already open. Dave strolled across the concrete front playground and up to the set of large stone steps into the main entrance hall. The school itself was quite grand, and so it should have been. Dave’s parents paid for his and James’ tuition, and they got their money’s worth.

Dave made his way up to the music room, stopping just outside the door where a notice board hung from the wall. He carefully pinned one of the posters he’d drawn up, just as Mr Hanley had given him permission to do. Stepping back to admire it and, deciding it met his satisfaction, he found himself with his back against another body. He jumped slightly in shock, as did the person behind him. He pretended he didn’t feel a pair of hands on his shoulders.

“Adrian! Whoa, sorry,” Dave spluttered as he realised who it was, a smile on his face nonetheless. Remembering the feeling of having those hands on his shoulders, the concert slipped from his mind. Adrian just shook his head, dirty-blonde hair falling back into place as he smiled down at his classmate.

“It’s alright; I shouldn’t have startled you. What’s this, huh?” He took a step to stand next to the slightly smaller Dave, raising an eyebrow at the poster. “I still say you draw well,” he noted, his eyes scouring the drawings and lettering.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have another crack at making a band. Gonna hold auditions and stuff, Mr Hanley’s giving me a hand,” he explained, as Adrian nodded. He noticed a look of interest in the boy’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind auditioning. What do you say?” Adrian asked, and Dave noticed a look that he hadn’t seen very often in Adrian’s eyes. He found himself captivated with their deep blueness. It was a look of uncertainty and hope. Adrian was usually seemed happy-go-lucky, and seemed to go with the flow. Now, however, he seemed somewhat anxious.

“Sure, we can use one of the school guitars!” Dave piped up, excited now. He rushed off into the room beside them before Adrian could squeeze in another word. Adrian’s expression turned almost vacant, and he followed Dave, whose rattlings in the instrument cupboard could be heard from where he stood.

“I wish I had such enthusiasm,” Adrian muttered, entering the room and closing the door behind him, peering round the corner of the cupboard in which Dave was hunting. A twinkle appeared in Adrian’s eyes as he watched Dave lean over to dig through a box. Dave had forgotten that it was rare for people, with the exception of himself, to come in this early, a fact for which Adrian was glad. At least he wasn’t suspecting anything just yet.