Sketch

4 - Emmy

This part is dedicated to wildgreenskittle for writing the most amazing stories, reminding me why sci-fi is a great genre.  Go check out her stuff!

Picture of Vince on the side!

"What did you say the band was called again?"

Tabatha's standing behind me, waiting for my laptop to load.  I sit back in my chair and drum my nails along my desk.  "Sketch, I think."

Tabs nods before pausing with a light frown.  "Who?"

I shrug.  "How should I know?  All I've been told is that they're looking for a new member and that this Tanya woman thinks I could be the person they're after."

I let my words sink in.  This is crazy.  Why am I even contemplating being in a band?  It's not like I've ever thought about a career in music before.  I haven't thought about a career in anything, or even a career for that matter.

"Oh."  Tabs sounds unsure.  "What kind of music do they play again?"

"Pop-punk," I reply, clicking on the little symbol for the internet.

"What's that sound like?"

I turn around to face her.  She's got her hands on her hips.  Her dark hair's fastened into two braids and she's dressed in jeans and a frilly pink blouse.  She looks so odd standing in my room covered in posters and photos.  She's so orderly and I'm so... haphazard?

"What's with all the questions?"

She chews on her lip and I know the cogs in her head are whirring.  Tabs is a thinker.  I'm usually the one with all the questions, asking the first thing that comes to mind.  Sometimes I think my body came without the filter that's supposed to stop me from saying stupid things.  Dad just says it makes being around me more interesting.  Mum, on the other hand, thinks I do it on purpose to embarrass her; fifty percent of the time she's right. 

"I'm just thinking this through."  She rolls her eyes when she notices my raised eyebrow.  "Seriously Emmy, one of us has got to look at this properly.  What if it's a scam?"

I pick at the black nail varnish on my finger nails.  "I don't know."  In truth, I've thought about it being a scam, but why would they want to scam me?  Okay, I might look a little dim with my blonde hair and vacant expression, but it's totally an act.  I've got a brain in my head.  Somewhere.  Besides, it's not like they've asked for money yet.  Not that I've got any money to give them. 

"Emmy?"

I lean my elbows on my desk and tap my two front teeth with a finger.  It's a habit that both my parents despise.  I roll my shoulders as I come to a decision.  "The moment they ask for money, I'll tell them where to stick it."

Tabatha observes me with her cool blue eyes for a moment before she nods, seemingly satisfied.  "Good.  Right.  Where are they then?  I want to see if any of them are cute."

I bring up the band's blog page.  There's not much of a theme.  A couple of tracks you can listen to in the sidebar.  A black and white background.  A few photos.  I'm about to inspect them closer when Tabs dives in front of me. 

"Oh, he's cute!"

I push her finger back from the screen and shrug.  The guys she's pointing at has blonde hair that's styled to look like an organised mess.  His muscles aren't prominent but they're definitely there, and his lips are caught between a smile and a smirk.  He's definitely the guy the girls are supposed to like.

I let Tabs fawn over the rest of the photos and when she's gone off to tell Mum about her plan to be a hairdresser, so she gets to style 'hot guys' hair, I look at the pictures myself.  I bring the first photo back up and study the three faces staring back at me.  The guy Tabs likes is called Vince.  The middle guy has a friendly smile and relaxed expression that seems to settle my heart.  My pulse had gone up a bit when I'd looked at them for the first time.  I mean, these guys could be my new band mates.  I don't want to be in a band with an idiot.

Ollie's hair is brown and falls into his eyes in a similar styled way.  His mouth is wide and his face pixie like.  He's skinny too, looking lanky standing in-between Vince and the other guy, who's a good head taller.  My eyes are drawn to the last guy.  Aside from being tall, his brown eyes are narrow and piercing.  His jawline's square, hard edged.  I frown and lean closer to the screen.  He looks guarded and I feel instantly curious.

Sam Merrick.  The name circles my head, even when Mum's asking me if I've filled in any of the job application forms that she'd left on my desk as a 'reminder'.  I haven't, choosing to spend my day watching re-runs on TV instead.  Besides, I tell her, I might already have a job.