Hiding Behind The Music - Lilly's Soundtrack

Hiding Behind The Music - Chp 1 [Anger Is The Brand New Thing]

Hiding Behind the Music [Lilly's Soundtrack] - Chp 1 [Anger Is The Brand New Thing]

"When we play the beat it's what I live for/It takes everything away from me, so let it be/This is who I am, takes everything away from me" - Kisschasy - Anger is the Brand New Thing

"You're seriously not getting that out are you?" I tore my gaze from my hands where cradled in my palm was my sleek white iPod classic, the steel, cold feel instantly releasing the tension from my shoulders and neck. "You're going to a concert and you pull out your iPod?" Sonny demands, I roll my eyes even though I know what it would trigger, "God, Lilly!" She cries throwing her hands up in the air; she was highly peeved.

"I know, Sonny." I said hastily smoothing over the damage I had already made, "I was only checking the time and I wouldn't listen to it during this concert, any concert." I corrected myself as I slid it back into my leather jacket's pocket; my heart sinking as I realize I wouldn't be able to listen to my music for a lot longer than I originally thought. "Besides, I wouldn't hear it anyways." I mumble more to myself taking a step up further in our queue.

"Why didn't you check your mobile for the time?" She asked, still not dropping it as her eyes kept on the person in front of us back of their head; she was still mad.

"'Cos I left it back at the motel." I said instantly regretting that.

Sonny snorted, "Sure, an iPod is highly important but a mobile phone? No can't say we'd ever need one of those in an emergency." Her tone thick with sarcasm.

I didn't speak; I knew better. Being best friends with Sonny made it easier for me to know my stops and starts; however, the poor suckers around her didn't, sometimes I felt sorry for them to be singled out and screamed at if she was in "that" mood. But most of the time it was mostly to my entertainment.

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see her dark black eyes shooting a glance at me than quickly sliding away as our eyes me. 5, 4, 3, 2- "Okay, I'm sorry." She says, turning to face me, "I know your iPod is highly special to you and I have to deal with it just like you have to deal with my anger, or me dragging you along to concert when you don't even like the singer even though the tickets were won and it includes back stage passes." I smile; she was an expert at guilt trips.

"Seriously Son, I'm gonna enjoy it, or try." She nods, the excitement edging back into her.

This argument was always common and now over. We'd argue about my headphones being in my ears constantly, I always shot her the hint that it wasn't bad and always added that it was white a colour used to convey innocence, my English teacher had brainwashed me, she'd shoot back just as quickly that it can also come in black showing you can choose or change sides. I know; English had corrupted us. This always stumped me so all I could find to say is that I was lucky mine was white. No matter how many times we'd have this same argument we'd always say the same things, I could quote it word for word, so could Sonny. So the fight comes and goes quicker or we'd just say, "iPod argument, insert here" and that was it. It was Sonny's and I's friendship and I loved it.

Sonny links her arms through mine as we took our final step to the entry with the security guards, my arms having lost all feel from her grip, I was trying to echo her excitement but she made up for both of us. I could seriously feel her excitement fuming off her skin, I smile up at her.

After getting through the gates, Sonny pulls me through the combust halls and corridors, my ears were ringing at the sound of girls fifty or more meters away squealing and jumping crazily and still reaching my poor, now damaged ears. Okay, that's a lie; my ears were damaged a long time ago, as soon as I could pick up a guitar or a volume switch. Finding the toilets, she dragged me over to the sinks and mirrors where girls stood, all of them around my age; eighteen, or younger, up against the mirrors; gossiping, laughing, squealing, bitching and applying the extra touches of their makeup to their faces. Mothers hastily and determinedly steered through the girls for a cubicle for their young, dazed child or themselves. I rolled my eyes; you'd think it was some boy band or Justin Bieber from the way they were acting. I shuddered at the thought of evil J.B., I sure was catching a fever; just of contamination and infection.

Sonny stood awkwardly by the mirror and wrapped her hair up into a messy ponytail, her jet black hair dance and bob in its ponytail as she nods at her reflection in approval. "C'mon," she said in an undertone as the girls became more ferocious over the possession of mirrors, rolling my eyes I slid out of the door.

"Sure you don't want to chuck your hair up? It will get hot and sticky," I shrug as she took in the rest of my outfit; dark gray jeans, white singlet and leather jacket. "You're going to boil," she mutters taking off towards the stage.

Sonny claps in excitement and I watch her smiling with amusement, catching my eyes she smiles back, "That's the spirit!" She enthuses.

Sonny was lucky to get these tickets; she won them on a radio show. They were for the front of the stage and backstage passes for her and a friend. I must admit it was cool, but not my genre.

The crowd fell into a deep silent buzz as she stepped out. Then, two counts later, their frozen stances left them and the crowd erupted. Sonny was beside me making a contribution to the chaos. This was Sonny's genre.

There on the stage stood an auburn haired woman; tall legs that any guy would want wrapped around them and any girl would envy and she was skinny, not extremely skinny to my surprise, but healthy, skinny to the point her curves made her ten times more seductive to the male species. But oh, she was gorgeous in a simple "girl next door" kind of way. She stood smiling, waving with a microphone in one hand in a black cocktail dress and to my approval flats that glistened in the darkening night.

Sonny spun and looked at me, her own smile huge, her dimples noticeable and her eyes shone wide as her body vibrates with excitement.

Then she sang, Kate Bransen I mean, not Sonny Ferguson.

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