Stereotyping Rock (Stereotyping Series) | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Will

The Battle of the Bands was exactly twelve days away and we had a moody vocalist-slash-lead-guitarist, a heartbroken keyboardist and no drums available to practice with. Our electric guitarist was off in his own world at the moment with who-knows-what and our bassist might not even make it to the competition on time. 

Zoe shrugged, "You can all work it out. Look how far you've come."

"You didn't see Georgia's face, last night," I whispered, "She was... crushed."

"It's not the first time, Will," Zoe reassured, "She's bounced back once; she can do it again."

"But what about Matthew, then?" I pressed, "He doesn't even have his head in the game."

There was a loud scowl and I winced as Matt stomped into the kitchen. He grabbed an apple but didn't reply. He bit into it, glaring at me, before turning and stalking away. 

Zoe sighed gently, "In England... things got a bit complicated. He'll be okay, though, once Allie returns home."

I nodded slowly, "Sure..."

"And, so, I take it Jenna's not happy about the leg?"

"Not at all," I frowned, "She believes this has ruined her cheerleading career. Her Coach is... beyond upset. She got kicked off the team yesterday..."

Zoe's eyes widened, "But it's not like the accident was her fault!"

"So you can imagine why she's so moody," I filled in the blanks, sighing loudly. 

How the fuck were we going to perform as a collective in less than two weeks? 

The timer on the microwave beeped and Zoe grabbed the microwave pizza from inside. She popped it on a plate before smiling at me, "You'll work it out, Will. Go take this to Georgia for me, please."

I took the plate from her hands as the doorbell rang. Matt shouted, "I'll get it!"

I walked into the entrance hall, destined for the stairs. Matt grabbed the door and I craned my neck to look at who stood there. The blonde from yesterday - Allie, if I recall - stood with her arms crossed. 

She asked, "Are you going to explain? Honestly?"

Matt glanced back at me and I took the warning from his eyes. I nodded politely at him before walking quickly upstairs. With slightly narrowed eyes, I worked out that two problems could be solved if I just knew who that girl was so I could fix it. 

I knocked gently on Georgia's window. There was no reply. I pushed it open to find her fast asleep, holding a book. I doggy-flapped the corner with one hand and moved it to her bedside table. Placing the plate of pizza on top of it, I shook Georgia's shoulder. 

She mumbled, "Matt?"

"Will," I corrected, "You need to have some lunch. Zoe cooked you some pizza."

Her closed eyes fluttered open, revealing their pretty blueness. She shifted so she was sitting up, letting out a yawn. She smiled delicately, "Thanks for bringing it."

She grabbed the plate of pizza and I perched myself on the end of her bed, "So..."

Georgia James raised an eyebrow at my drawn out word. She took a bite of her pizza. 

"Who's the blonde Brit?"

She stiffened, her gaze turning fiery, "I... I don't know her."

She never lied.

I nodded, "How does Matt know her?"

"He probably knows her from England."

"Do you know what he did in England?"