Stereotyping Rock (Stereotyping Series) | ✔️

Prologue

Jen

I strummed the guitar lightly, fiddling around with the strings. It was small, too small for me, and ratty all around the edges. Two of the strings were frayed towards the neck of it and three other knobs were stuck in position. It was the same guitar I'd had since I was nine years' old but it didn't look like I'd be getting a new one anytime soon. 

There was a loud honk of a car from outside my house and I put the guitar down, hurrying to get my handbag. I pulled down my skirt the half-inch lower that it could go before running out into the Australian Summer sun. 

Courtney shouted, "Get in, loser!"

Gee

My fingers flew across the keys before slowing down immediately. The last few notes finished against the piano as Nonna began clapping wildly. I was in love with her piano as much as she was in love with it. It was a wooden, Yamaha upright with ivory keys. 

Nonna let out a small hoot of appreciation before exploding into a fit of raucous coughing. I patted her back gently before she smiled up at me, "You play beautifully, Georgia."

"So you've told me," I laughed slightly at her.

Nonna tucked a piece of her long, grey hair behind her ear - she absolutely refused to cut it - and sighed, "I'm so glad you aren't like other teenagers; with their ditching class, listening to rock and roll and going to parties every weekend."

First one, she was correct. Second one, she couldn't be further off. Third one... well, again, she was correct. But it wasn't as if I was going to get invited to William Hart's party next weekend...

Will

Bored with the silence at the table, I picked up the chopsticks and began spinning them between my fingers. I flicked a glance at Dad. 

No reaction. He just stared at the placemat in front of him. I moved my hands so I had one chopstick in each hand. I began tapping the placemat, the wood, the cup followed by my knife and fork. It got quicker and quicker until I had a steady beat going. I began making a small tune by tapping my foot on the floor as well. 

It didn't take long for my dad to snap, "William, stop that incessant messing around."

"It's called drumming, Dad."

"Well stop. You aren't a drummer, you're a rugby player. Got it, son?"

I softly placed the chopsticks back down, "Yeah, Dad. I got it..."

Matt

"Fuck you, Mitch!" I shouted before slamming my door in his face. I slapped the radio by my door and it turned on to Triple M. Grabbing my electric guitar I began playing loud enough just for the music to drown out the cussing I was giving out beneath my breath. 

But obviously, it didn't work. 

My older brother yelled, "I know you're swearing at me right now, Matthew."

I put my guitar back into place beside my desk and turned down my radio, sitting in silence. I slid down to lean my back against the bed frame. How did my life get this screwed up?

Within a moment I'd already made my way to my bedroom window to stare at the pier. 

The pier.

***

Song: Every Rose Has Its Thorn - POISON. 

I was just listening to this song, so it makes sense :) 

How this book is gonna work: four different perspectives. Yes - four. 

I myself don't know exactly how this will work out but please enjoy. 

xx Sharky.