“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? I’m Darren. And you are…?” he said, stretching out an open hand. I shook it and said, “My name’s Amethyst,” I gestured to his guitar, “do you play?”

“Yup; played since I was three. And, I wouldn’t say I’m too bad…” He played a great and complex string of notes that sounded amazing.

“That’s awesome!” I exclaim.

“Do you play anything?” he asks.

“I do play piano, but I don’t have one. I’ve been thinking of saving up for it, but I’d need a job first,” I explained.

“A job, huh? Well...” he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin theatrically, “I can make a deal with you. You say you need a job; I can give you a job. But, only if you join our band. If you’re good enough, of course.”

I was silent for a moment, pondering on the proposal. There is the possibility that they have a piano is pretty high; I don’t think he would’ve let me join unless he thinks I’ve got talent.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But what is the job? What do I need for it? Does it require skill­­­-” But he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room, shutting the door along the way with his foot skillfully.

The End

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