VII.

Apple Blossoms

“We’re talking about the Beatles here. Elton John. Bruce Springsteen. The Rolling stones. It’s true music. I’m not saying that there wasn’t bad music in the 1960s, but still. This music was adored. It’s been over forty years, yet people still listen to it. Music has evolved greatly.” Our young, music teacher named Mr. Paul stared at us with his hands behind his back. “Kids nowadays, they buy the best guitars and hire the well-known teachers…”

He stared at us all for a moment, and then continued, “But music is pain. It’s spending hours in the night writing lyrics that probably don’t even make sense… It means getting the old, rusty guitar and sitting there and actually listening—actually feeling the music. Look at the artists now. They’ve completely changed the way we look at music. They spend time getting their makeup done, their clothing, their hair, the light settings, the acting and so forth. They spend so much time on music videos and less time on writing and playing…that it’s all rubbish.” His British accent got stronger as he flicked on the projector.

“Technology is a great thing. But people are abusing it. Do you think in thirty years that kids your age will still be talking about that new Rap album that just came out a couple days ago?” Mr. Paul shook his head as he smiled slightly. “Back in the day, it was all about sound. We heard everything on radios. Now it’s all watching. MTV. Televisions.”

He met my eyes and then turned. “There are people out there with potential.” He scratched the back of his ears as he licked his lips. “Here’s another example. Let’s say there’s this dedicated basketball player that comes out to the court and plays. He plays when it’s snowing, raining, hailing, slating…whatever the bloody hell happens, he’s out there. He’s the first person in the court and the last one to leave.”

Mr. Paul tapped the board. “Compare that…to someone playing imaginary basketball on their Wii, in front of their television. Someone who could…slam dunk with Michael Jordan. Now which player would you chose?”

I smiled to myself. Mr. Paul always had a way of explaining things—even though he cursed like a sailor, he was effective. He got through to the kids and actually made me think about music in a different light.

At that moment, the bell rung, dismissing the students from the class. “Vaughn, may I see you for a moment?” I crumpled my brows as I nodded, packing my books into my backpack.

“I’ll see you later,” Deacon said, nodding at me curtly before leaving the classroom.

I let the messenger bag hang over my shoulder as I walked over to his desk. He was rummaging through some papers, and finally looked up at me. He smiled uncertainly, and then folded his arms over his desk. “I heard that you play the piano.”

“Where’d you hear that?” was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I almost cringed at how defensive I sounded.

Luckily, he just smiled and shrugged. “I have my sources.” Then, he pulled out a blue flyer and pressed it onto the desk, looking at me expectantly. It was made out of special paper, the texture slightly rough. “Read this.”

Battle of the Bands

Come for fun at Prescott Hills Academy.

Limited number of bands: 20

Come and sign up now.

Prove your talent.

Drinks & Food.

7:00 PM

The paper trembled as I placed it back on his desk. “W-What…” I cleared my throat. “What do you want me to do?” I never thought of physically performing. Didn’t Mr. Paul know I was even in a band? I played classical music, not the garbage of present day, as Mr. Paul had bluntly lectured us today.

Mr. Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want you to come…and maybe even perform.”

I laughed at that, shaking my head. “No. No way, Mr. Paul. You don’t get it. I play classical music. I get taught stuff that takes me months to learn—I can’t just go and perform! It’s not like some boring recital I might have performed at—this is actual bands. I’m not in a band and besides piano, I don’t play any instruments.”

“Didn’t you listen to my lesson today, Vaughn?” He fixed the collar of his suit as he stared at me. “You have potential. A lot of it. I can see perseverance and hard work in your eyes. Do you know how rare that is? I want to see you out there, making the best of that talent. Sure, you may play the piano. What the hell, right? You can play many different instruments. It’s not for a couple months, too.”

I smiled nervously. “Well hypothetically, if I was going to play—“ his face brightened at this, “—what instrument would you recommend?”

“Truthfully?” Mr. Paul asked, neatening the stacks of paper on his desk.

“Truthfully,” I echoed, staring at him in anticipation.

“I can imagine you playing the guitar. An electric—though it seems more wild than you’re taken for…I think it suits you well,” he said, ending with an amused smirk. “So what do you say, will you be there?”

I shook my head as a faint smile graced my lips. “I can’t make any promises, Mr. Paul. But maybe, just maybe, I might be there.”

Mr. Paul nodded as he swallowed. “Good. I understand if you can’t—or won’t make it, but it’d be fun. Anyway, get to lunch. You’re probably starving…”

I laughed as I walked out of the music classroom and into the halls, grinning despite myself. Maybe I could go… I thought to myself as I entered the cafeteria. I immediately spotted Deacon sitting alone. Deacon, Violet and I usually were the threesome—we sat together and alone. No one joined since we weren’t the biggest socialites around.

Feeling apologetic, I walked up to him, smiling grimly. “Hey Deacon—sorry about that. Mr. Paul just held me up for a little while.”

Deacon shrugged and glanced up at me, his eyes brightening. “Yeah, that’s fine. What did he want to talk to you about?”

“It was nothing. It was about the Battle of the Bands that’s come up in a couple of months,” I said, “he wanted me to play the electric guitar.”

He choked on the water he drinking, and I laughed again. “Y-You p-playing the electric guitar?!” he sputtered, causing me to cringe when a bit of water landed on my arm. I wiped it away quickly and nodded.

“I had the same reaction in my head when he told me,” I said.

Deacon wiped the table with his sleeve as he stared at me. “So are you going to do it?”

“Well, I don’t know.” I blushed. “I mean, he said I had potential and all…but I’m not in a band. Besides, it’d be hard learning the guitar, even though I really want to learn. Electric sounds appealing. I’m pretty sure I have an old guitar somewhere in the basement.”

He laughed. “I think you should do it. It’d be kind of interesting to see you rocking out on the stage, a complete 360 from your actual persona.” Deacon grinned at me, his dimples forming in the middle of cheeks. He chuckled, “Actually, that’d be way more than interesting.”

I smiled, “Yeah, it would…wouldn’t it?”

The bell for the last period of the day rang loudly, causing the students to murmur to themselves groggily as they stumbled out of the door. I sighed as I kept my eyes outside as I stuffed my bag impatiently, almost running out the door. I walked through the masses of teenagers and fumbled through my bag, trying to find my key.

“Crap!” I mumbled to myself. “I forgot my textbook…” I zipped my bag shut as I turned around, heading back to the classroom. I grabbed my book, almost heaving with relief. I opened my bag, pushing it back in as I walked back outside.

The hallways were already emptying out, and I almost rolled my eyes at how everyone was excited to leave school. There were a couple of lingering students for the most part. I walked towards the back exit, another quick way to get my car, that I barely used.

The doors slammed behind me as I walked outside, the cold wind brushing against my body. I wrapped my arms around myself as I started for my car, but a soft shriek made me freeze. I turned slightly, angling myself, listening carefully.

My eyes finally locked on two silhouettes in the back walls of the school. Treading on murky water, I took another step towards the shadows. “No—please, stop! I’m sorry,” the first voice begged. It sounded oddly familiar.

I finally shuffled against the grass to get a better view, and my jaw dropped. “Oh my God…” I whispered to myself.

I was right. I had been right all those times. Camille was backed up against the wall, Martin flush against her. His hand was raised almost to slap her—and he did. The slap echoed and her face turned red at the impact.

Her dark brown eyes glazed over with tears as she whimpered slightly. “Don’t fuck around with me,” he growled. “Why were you talking to Stephen today?”

“I wasn’t doing anything with him! I swear, Martin. I swear…” her voice was strained.

I had to get help. I headed towards my car and almost thanked God when I saw Ryan leaning against my Jeep. “Ryan!” His eyes flew upwards to be locked with mine. “Please—oh my God…come with me, please. I need your help.”

I could feel the hysteria bubbling up within me. He arched his brows but followed me as I ran to where I had been hiding before. “P-Please, just help them.”

Ryan gasped softly as he saw what was happening, and used the tact of surprise to his advantage. “Stay here,” he said softly, his eyes locked on with Martin. He walked towards Martin and grabbed the collar of his white shirt, pulling him away from Camille. I could see relief washing over Camille as she backed away. Ryan punched Martin in the jaw once.

“Don’t ever talk to a girl like that,” he said roughly, shoving him in the ribs. “Ever.” He punched him in the stomach, and watched with satisfaction as Martin dropped to the ground, clutching his stomach. I almost felt the rage pumping through Ryan as he kicked him the groin, causing Martin to yell out in pain.

Camille winced. “Please…Ryan, that’s enough.”

“Don’t come near her again,” he threatened, ignoring Camille as he kicked him in the legs for good measure. “Don’t even touch her.”

By this time, I had walked over to Camille. She saw me and her eyes pleaded with me forgiveness. I just nodded, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against my ear as she clutched on to me. “He said if I told anyone that he’d—“ she choked on a sob. “—that he’d hurt me even more.”

“It’s okay,” I said, patting her back comfortingly as I led her to the car. I shot Ryan a grateful look and he returned it. But then, he took my free hand and entwined his fingers with mine. I almost closed my eyes in sweet bliss, but my head cleared as I put Camille in the Jeep.

I didn’t remove Ryan’s hand as I said, “Let’s get your cuts cleaned up and get you back home.”

Camille nodded and smiled gratefully.

iii.

Ryan White stood silently in front of Vaughn’s door, hesitating on whether or not to knock. He had seen the fright in her eyes when she ran towards him, and his mind had been clouded over with fury. Camille had left with Vaughn on good waters, both of their faults cleared up. He was standing near her Jeep, waiting for her to come out of school so he could talk to her.

Today was the day he was going to ask her out. But of course—as always—there was an interruption. He was surprised by his actions when he went and held her hand, and even more surprised when she let him. His palms were starting to sweat furiously, and his pulse started to speed up.

Oh god, he thought. It’s only a pretend date… why the hell am I so nervous? He stared at his clothing. He was wearing a pair of white-wash, faded jeans and a button down shirt underneath his jacket. He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. Let’s just get this over with.

Ryan knocked on the door, his knocks swift and short. The door opened moments later, revealing Vaughn. She was wearing a pair of running sweats and a small, white t-shirt with different quotes written all over the sleeves. “Ryan,” she breathed and immediately hugged him, her arms around his waist.

He was startled for a moment, but closed his eyes as he returned the hug. His chin fit snugly over her head, and only now did he realize how tall he was compared to her. “I felt so bad for Camille…” she said, her voice shaky. “I should have known. I saw the bruises before and I even asked her but—“

Her voice cut off as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Vaughn let go before Ryan could say anything. “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling weakly. “Probably freaking you out, aren’t I?” She moved out of the way, gesturing him to come in. “Just—Just come in.”

Ryan shrugged off his coat as he walked into the heated home and turned to face Vaughn. She looked bemused—deep in thought as she stared at her feet. “Are you okay?” Ryan asked finally, his voice strangely soft and calm.

“Hm?” Vaughn tilted her head to look at him then nodded. “Yeah, fine.” She started walking towards the living room and sat down on a couch. “So did you need something?”

Ryan took the seat beside her and inhaled a shaky breath. “Um…yeah.” Vaughn raised a brow accusingly. “I was j-just wondering—“ Damn, what happened to the suave ladies man that practically defined charm? “—if you’d, um, like to go out with me…for dinner?”

His request came out as a question and he almost winced at how inexperienced he sounded. Ryan raised his eyes to meet Vaughn’s and was surprised when she had a faint smile on her face. Her smile widened into a grin, and then she started to laugh.

Fuck…she thinks it’s a joke. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said, standing up. He walked over to his coat and was slightly surprised when he felt her pull his arm back.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Vaughn said, a trace of a smile on her lips. “I’m just happy…”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Is that a yes?”

Vaughn nodded, smiling brightly. He was almost entranced by how much she glowed when she smiled—genuinely, that is. He took her arms and slowly pulled her closer to him. “I wanted you the moment I saw you,” he said softly, and his heart clenched at how much that was true. He took a piece of her brown hair and tugged at it, curling it around his finger.

She wove her arms around his neck tightly as she stood on her tippy-toes, pressing a light, feathery kiss to his cheek. He looked surprised, and she explained. “That’s for saving Camille.” Then Vaughn kissed his nose. “And that’s for being sweet.”

Ryan grinned. He kissed her nose. “That’s for being you.”

They laughed together, and Ryan sighed happily, bringing her even closer. “You’re amazing you know that?”

Vaughn nodded, “Yeah, I learn from the best.” She buried her face in his chest, and he wove his fingers through her luxurious hair. He inhaled—apple blossoms. “By the way,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest, “I still want my bracelet back.”

A/N: Gah, I know…another short chapter. But oh well, I hope you liked this one. Vaughn will get her bracelet…sometime MUCH later. Anyway, they finally got together, but that does not mean the story is over. There is a lot more to come, but I won’t give anything away. Mwahaha, sucks for you guys. Anyway, keep reviewing and the chapters will be coming up faster!

Thanks to: Misplaced Angel, justreading, allyg1990, pinkeclipse and Sunnyboy02 for the reviews on chapter 36!

BUT WAIT! I have another story up; it’s called Magik. I hope you guys read it: it’s pretty interesting, but it takes placed in ‘medieval’ times. Anyway, I love you guys. (Pictures are on my page for both stories)

—cue.dramatic.gasp—