Rock-And-Roll Eyes

Chapter Twelve

Christmas had come and gone quicker than the blink of an eye. Time passes quicker, I've learned, when you have a show every other night. It gives you something to look forward to, and that makes the days fly by quicker.

The Makers Men had been playing at The Hall for some time now. We had become the resident band, and there were people who came for us, specifically on our nights. In what seemed like a short time, we had amassed a group of local fans that were dedicated to us.

The house was empty except for Vincent and I. Simon had gone over to a friends house for the night, and Grandpa had decided to celebrate at a bar with his friends. The house was ours. As any adult can tell you, leaving two teenagers in an empty house for an entire night is never a good idea. Especially when those teenagers were as exuberant as The Armstrong Siblings.

I sat at the piano, playing with the keys. Vincent was on the couch nearby, strumming his guitar and writing down what he thought of. Both of us occasionally commented on the work of the other.

"What about g?" I asked, hitting the key.

Vincent wrinkled his nose, "Definitely not, it's too low."

"A then."

I hit that key. Vincent smiled, "That sounds better."

I wrote that down. Vincent jerked his hand down, hitting every single chord. The music echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls and into my cranium. I winced slightly.

"It's nearly ten thirty," Vincent sighed, "When will it be time?"

I turned to look at him, "Are you bored?"

He simply glared at me. I smirked, "Go get some cards, we'll play a game."

Vincent abandoned his guitar on the couch. I closed the piano gently, making sure not to harm the keys. It was an old piano, older even than Grandda. His mum had passed it down to him when she passed away several years ago. From the moment we got it, it has been my piano. Vincent and Simon played it sometimes, even Grandda tapped the keys on a rare occasion, but I used it the most. Those piano keys are covered in my fingertips from when I was old enough to reach the keys to now.

Vincent was anxiously awaiting the arrival of our friends. Celebrating News Years alone was no fun, so we had the idea of inviting them over. It was still a bit before they arrived.

I sat across from Vincent at the coffee table. He shuffled while I watched to make sure he didn't cheat. As he dealt, he counted the cards out loud.

"Nine?" Vincent asked.

I shook my head, "Go fish."

He grumbled. We went on like this for ten minutes before he dropped his cards in exasperation, "I can't live like this!"

"Christ, Vincent, calm down," I calmly set my cards down, "It's just a half hour, it's not that bad."

Vincent fell backward, "Boring! It's all boring!"

I rolled my eyes. Standing, I straightened my pants and gazed down at my brother, "If you want to be a sissy about it, then go ahead."

"I am not a sissy."

"You sure are acting like one."

Vincent jumped up. Just a month ago, I was barely an inch shorter than him. Given a week or two, I might have actually been the same height as him, but Vincent went through a growth spurt. He rocketed to five inches taller than me overnight. In the typical annoying older brother fashion, he made sure to never let me forget it.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Vincent asked.

I frowned, "I'm not your nanny."

He groaned. I watched him spin around and go to the kitchen. The clanking of metal against glass told me he was making something. I could smell tea moments later.