Rhyme or Reason

My first mistake was ever listening to his music in the first place. No, I correct myself, my first mistake was even taking notice him. At all. Any fraction on an interest I shouldn’t have even made, yet I made anyway.

After school that day, walking down the hall from the library, I shouldn’t have taken any notice to the sounds coming from the music hall. Not that they were strange sounds, just the distance sounds of an acoustic guitar gently being strummed. If I ever had to defend myself against this I would have said it was the tune of the song, the chords of the guitar that had lured me to go by that room. Not that I would admit it to anyone though, it was in fact the voice; the pure voice that sang the soft tune, which added a bit of rawness to it, making it emotional and probably a relatable song. My mind was made before me right then. I had to find out who it was.

Setting my books on the bench outside of the room I looked in through the window on the slightly open door. As soon as I did, I was shocked. I knew I shouldn’t be, and it was plainly obvious who it was, before I even walked down the music hall. But all the same I was shocked. The music kid, they all called him. The loner. The kid that didn’t have friends. Which obviously wasn’t true since he and his apparent band were having practice. I didn’t have any classes with him, since he was a year older than me but I had the same lunch period. He was what some girls called the strong silent type, but more silent then strong. His blondish brown hair and skinny figure made him look more like a straw of hay then anything else.

And I sat there. I sat on the bench outside and listened to their whole band rehearsal. They weren’t too bad, actually. More alternative than rock but more rock than emo if you know what I mean; they had that desired medium. Some of their songs were about school and girls and such, but there was one that really hit me. A head on collision with the cold hard facts about life was really the only words I could use to describe the song.

All to soon it seemed as though they were packing up to leave. It had almost been two hours since I had sat on the bench. I hurried and grabbed my books and left, before any of them had the chance to open the door and find me.

And that’s what I did almost every day after school instead of doing my homework like any other “smartie” at my school would, and should, be doing. Every other week or so, they’d play my favorite song, the one that had hit home the first time I’d listened to them.

One day they didn’t show up. Or the next day. Or the next. I started to take notice to see if they were all in school. They were. After about a week or two, I was starting to wonder what was going on. They couldn’t have just quit could they?

I walked in the lunch room, alone. I was one of the first people in there, besides him and one or two other people. I knew where I usually sat, with all the girls I usually talk with. I pulled out the chair, with every intention to sit down. Shocking myself more than anyone else, I set my food down, turned around, and walked over to him, the music kid.

When I first reached his table, I just stared at him, and he stared back, but with a little smirk of a smile, like he already knew who I was.

“May I talk to you for a moment?”

He nodded and motioned for me to sit in the empty seat kind of across from him.

“Why’d ya’ll quit?”

“Quit what?”

The worst words I’d ever heard him mutter besides lyrics to a song. It was strange not to hear his voice singing a tune, but it was pleasant all the same. “Your band. Why’d ya’ll quit?”

His eyes were sparkling, he definitely knew something I didn’t, “We decided it just wouldn’t work out.”

“Shame.” And I turned to leave. I had found out what I wanted, but I still wasn’t happy. Why had the given up? When they were so good!

“How did you know about us?”

I looked over my shoulder, my auburn bangs blocking most of my view of him, “I just did.” Not till after I said it did I hear the venom in my voice.

He chuckled, “Well, Ms. Kramer. Aren’t we a feisty one?”

I turned around fully so I was facing him, “Do I know you?”

“I’ve only lived up your street for the past eight years.”

I shrugged, “Okay?”

“And by the way?” He leaned back in his chair so it was on two pegs instead of four, “Thanks for being an audience for us.”

That’s what he knew. He knew I came to listen to them after school. “Oh.”

He pulled a book out of his pocket, “You left this there.”

I slowly picked it up, and when I looked up he had already left and was heading out the cafeteria doors.

Still dazed that I had found out he had known the entire time, I walked back to me seat and at my lunch with my friends, but not joining in their conversation.

When I got home that night, I picked up that book again. Pride and Prejudice, a book I didn’t even know I was missing until he pointed it out. I flipped to the back page, and there in my chicken scrawl said my name, Jamie Kramer. On the first chapter, there was a post it.

Never read a book in my life.

But this one wasn’t too bad

Thanks for listening to our band

Hope us breaking up wasn’t too sad

This is an awful rhyme

So this poem is going to end

But I hope after this

You’ll be my friend

--Xavier

The next day, at lunch, I walked up to him and sat down. He looked up from his mashed potatoes and grinned.

“That was a horrible poem.” I said.

“You’ve got that right.” Xavier answered.

Not one of my best, but it was something that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. As always, would love for you to review and give me any advice... ya'll know the routine.

-Brie