Rock-And-Roll Eyes

Chapter Four

Vincent and I had to walk to school. We were a few miles away, but the school bus was under repair. For the last week of October, we walked. As much as I enjoyed walking outside, it wasn't fun when the sun was rising and the traffic was heavy. Cars honked, giving me a headache that wouldn't go away, even when we made it to school.

We were lucky it had cooled down before the bus broke. Walking in the heat with stiff uniforms and shoes that felt like they weighed one hundred tons wasn't fun. At least in the cold, the uniforms blocked most of the chill.

The Bristol Institute was a 'prestigious' school that only accepted the finest students dressed in the finest clothes. It was filled with people as stiff as their collars. Everyday, I wished we could have gone to the Downton secondary school l like Oscar did, but then we wouldn't have met Benedict.

"At least you get to wear a skirt," Vincent commented, "It gets hot in those classrooms."

As usual, he was complaining about the stiff suit pants he had to wear. We both had matching outfits, as everyone in the institute did; navy blue jackets with white shirts and red ties. He had pants to match the jacket while I had a pleated skirt that fell to my knees. As if that wasn't bad enough, I had to wear itchy stockings inside of the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet.

"I would like to see you say that after you wore a skirt for eight hours," I scoffed.

"It looks comfortable."

"It's horrid!" I exclaimed, "My legs chafe, there's a draft, and I always have to worry that the back is caught in my underwear."

Vincent cringed, "Alright, maybe not."

"Exactly."

Thunder shook the world. Clouds as dark as night coated the once-blue sky, making me wonder if it had ever truly been blue at all. It was destined to rain any second, luckily, Vincent came prepared. He opened his umbrella just as it began to pour. Rain beat against the umbrella in a tune only nature could produce but humanity longed to replicate.

"I can't wait until I graduate," Vincent muttered.

I nodded, "Then we can finally get out of here."

"We could tour the world," Vincent waved his hand out in front of him, "We could see more beyond these streets."

He kicked a puddle, causing water to splash up on his legs. My socks became wet as I sighed.

"It'll be a while. We're just kids," I muttered.

Vincent smiled, "But, we're kids in a band. Who else can say that?"

"Oscar can," I replied, "Clyde can. Jack can."

"Besides them."

I didn't reply. The Makers Men were the only band I knew. There were a few others in Bristol, but I didn't know any of them. I had heard of a group on the other side of the city, something about a man named Edgy and his Wildcats. Sounded more like a botched high school sports team than a group to me, but then again, I was in a group named after a plumbing advertisement in the paper.

"Exactly," Vincent muttered.

As we rounded a corner, a car came speeding by. Vincent managed to block most of the water it splashed in with his umbrella. Even so, our shoes and the bottom of our pants got soaked.

"I hate Bristol," I groaned.

Vincent shrugged, "It's boring, but it's home."

"Boring being the key word," I replied, "It's boring, wet, and nothing ever happens!"