My Brother Says I'm Dangerous

(15)

I yawn, trying to pay attention, but it's a lost cause. Math was never my strong point, even when I was at my best. No one I talk to is in this class, so I stay pretty anti social at the back. 

A knock at the door causes the teacher to leave her spot at her desk, opening it. She smiles, letting Noah waltz on in.

"Sorry I'm late Miss." He coos. "I had to help my father this morning at the office."

"It's perfectly fine, hun." She smiles widely. "I'll see both of you at the party tonight." Oh vomit. He looks around for an empty seat, and I groan on the inside. The downside of being anti social is that empty seats are quite common. He smiles at me, as he places his bag on the desk next to me, taking the seat.

"Hi." He says quietly to me, as the teacher resumes her lesson. I smile slightly, pretending to be writing notes. "Are you coming to the party tonight?" I look at him, wondering if he's actually having this conversation with me. 

"Yes." I say shortly. "The Samuels are all going, so I don't really have a choice."

"Right." He laughs. "Of course." 

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"You know what I mean." He shrugs. "The Samuels, the perfect family. Gives second chances, wins family of the year award." I nod, he is making sense there.

"If you find their company is too much, come find me." He says. "They can be pretty overwhelming. I get that." I smile.

"Thanks." I say, not sure whether I'll take him up on that.

"So." He says. "What's Ohio like?" 

<><><><>

The day went really quickly again, and now I have to face the music. Literally.

I look at the door, labelled performing arts, and cringe. I promised myself I would stop this completely. A group of people walk in, and one looks at me expectantly.

"Are you coming in?" He asks, pushing up his glasses. 

"Unfortunately yes." I say quietly, and follow him inside. I enter a hallway, covered in band posters, and I look at the several doors, not sure where to go.

"Junior music mainstream?" The guy asks me, opening a door.

"Yeah." I say. He opens the door wide, motioning for me to go in. I walk in, and see an average sized room, with bean bags instead of desks. On one side is all the instruments and stuff. I stay near the door, not sure where to sit. 

"You're Eva, yeah?" The guy says, still next to me.

"Hi." I nod.

"I'm Sebastian." He says. "But you can call me DJ Zeb." 

"Yeah." I say slowly. "I'm not calling you that."

"No one does." One of the girls on the bean bags laughs. "I prefer loser. Twit. Idiot. Seb." She stands up, joining us. "I'm Chloe." She says brightly. "Oboe."

I join her in the bean bag area, and sit in one next to her. People introduce themselves to me, and they always say their instrument after. I'm wondering where our teacher is, but eventually, the door bangs open.

"I am sooooo hungover." A man says. He does not look like a teacher. He wears a tie die t-shirt, with khaki shorts and sandals. He looks young, probably in his twenties, with blonde dreadlocks.

"Hey man." People chorus hellos, but not like a usual teacher student relationship.

"I'm telling you guys." He groans, chucking his backpack on his desk, jumping onto it. "If I don't teach you anything, just remember this. Don't mix your drinks. And don't trust Rick at the bar. He'll mess you up."