Kid Becomes The Dream
Trey
I was halfway through my bowl of Cheerios when the sound of a car honking alerted me to my friends' arrival. I grabbed my messenger bag from beside my chair and headed towards the door. I paused in front of the door, then ducked into the bathroom to check my appearance one last time. My long, straight black hair was falling into my greenish gray eyes, but otherwise I looked okay. My first day of school attire was simple – a plain, dark green shirt and jeans. I ran my fingers through my hair, then sprinted out the door to the red car waiting for me in the street. As I got into the back, my best friend Eric, who was sitting in the passenger's seat, turned around and grinned at me.
"You ready for the first day of the rest of our lives?" Eric asked. He was obviously excited about starting freshman year at the local high school, much more so than I was. The truth was I wanted to stay at home and play my bass.
My bass. I first started playing the bass guitar when I was ten, the year before my mom died. Her death caused me to retreat to my room in an attempt to be alone with my emotions, and playing bass was my only outlet. Even once I was in the process of recovering from her death, I continued to play constantly. Now, at the age of fifteen, playing bass was the most important thing in my life.
"Uh, Trey? Are you with us?" Eric's voice knocked me out of my thoughts. I looked around, feeling slightly disoriented, and realized with a jolt that we were already halfway to school.
"Yeah…" I replied, but my voice was drowned out by the other conversations going on in the car. As soon as Eric had seen I was alive and responsive, he had gone back to discussing football with his brother, who was driving the car, and our friend Jeremy, who sat beside me. I tried to follow their conversation, but all talk of sports went over my head.
Eric's family used to come over to our house all the time back when my mother was still alive, but after she died the visits stopped. The friendship between me and Eric had been formed, however, and we continued to hang out first at school, and then on weekends and after school as well. We had our differences – Eric loved to talk sports while I preferred discussing music – but we still got along well enough.
As the car pulled into the school parking lot, I noticed a clenching feeling in my stomach. I had tried not to think about starting high school all summer, but now the nerves hit me hard. I knew it was natural to be nervous on the first day of school, but I still hated myself for it. I'd never liked starting new classes because I rarely ever was put in classes with my friends, and I'm terrible at making friends.
"I can't wait to meet the guys from the other schools, especially the ones trying out for the football team," Eric said eagerly as we walked towards the front doors of the school. I looked at him, wishing not for the first time that I could be more like him. Eric of course was outgoing and made friends with ease. On Eric's other side, Jeremy nodded.
"Yeah, definitely. I hope one of them is a wide receiver, now that Nate's gone and moved," Jeremy replied, launching the two of them into what I swore was their third conversation about football since they picked me up. I was almost glad when the time came to go our separate ways and find our homerooms.
"See you later," I called, turning down a narrow hallway. I walked slowly, trying to avoid running into people while still paying attention to the room numbers. It wasn't long before I found room 146. A couple people glanced up at me as I entered, but they looked away when they realized I was no one of interest. I took a seat at the back of the room and waited for our homeroom teacher to arrive.
I didn't have to wait long. She came bustling in, looking distressed and carrying a small stack of papers – our schedules. She began to read out names, handing people their schedules. I was the last one to be called.
"You must be Trey Perry, then." The teacher smiled at me and gave me my schedule. I returned her smile as I took my schedule, then headed out the door, hoping that I had a class with Eric.
I didn't see Eric till lunch, however, as I spotted the table he was sitting at in the cafeteria. He grinned as I took a seat across from him.
"Hey, how's your first day going?" Eric asked, his voice slightly muffled as he tried to talk around the tuna sandwich he had just taken a huge bite of.
"Not great," I replied, shrugging. Eric swallowed loudly.
"That sucks; let me see your schedule." I handed him my schedule, and watched as his eyes skimmed the paper. "We have English together, right after lunch," he declared as he handed back my schedule.
After that, lunch flew by as Eric and I shared our first impressions of our teachers and classmates, and before I knew it we were walking to English. I was excited about having a class with Eric, since I knew from past experience that his humor and sarcasm lightened up even the dullest classes. Despite my high expectations, however, Eric dropped his usual witty comments and focused on giving me the latest gossip on our classmates, and by the time the bell signaling last period rang, I was glad to be getting out of there.
I entered the art classroom and was disappointed, though not surprised, to find that none of my friends were in it. I took a seat at an empty table near the back of the room. The other three seats slowly filled up as more people entered the room. When it seemed everyone had arrived, the teacher stood at the front of the room and smiled nervously at us.
"Welcome to foundations of art. Um, I was thinking we could start off the class by drawing a sketch of something that is important to you. It can be a person, or an object, or even a place. Just as long as it has some meaning to it." He began passing out paper, and as soon as a sheet was placed in front of me, I began to sketch a rough outline of my bass. The class drew in silence for awhile, the only sounds being the scratching of pencils on paper. I had just begun adding some minor details when I sensed that I was being watched. I looked up and found myself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes. The boy across from me pointed at my drawing.
"You play the bass?" I nodded nervously, unsure of why he was asking. He smiled. "I thought at first it was a guitar but it had too few strings."
I relaxed, realizing that he was simply curious about my instrument. Not only that, but he sounded as though he actually knew what he was talking about, which was a step up from Eric.
"I'm Chris, by the way."
"Trey," I replied.
"Have you ever considered joining a band?"
I froze. "What?" I managed to choke out. Chris grinned at my obvious shock.
"My band is in need of a bassist. We've auditioned a few people, but no one really stands out. If you're good, and interested, of course, I can talk to the guys and maybe you can take the spot. How long have you been playing?"
I thought about it for a minute before replying, "Five years, but I played a bit of guitar before that." Chris whistled softly, impressed, and I smiled. It was nice finally meeting someone who shared my love for music.
Chris spent the rest of the period telling me about the other members of his band, for which he was the vocalist. As the final bell rang, he promised to talk to his band mates and get back to me the next day. I waved goodbye and hurried off in search of Eric to tell him the news.
A/N: Hope you like the first chapter. I have a hatred of writing beginnings to stories, so I'm glad this first hurdle is over with. Thanks to my best friend, because without her support I never would've gotten this far.
Oh, and the name of the story comes from a song by Aiden, which is an awesome band and you should check them out.