Let me start by saying the following:
Music means everything to me. Ever since the day I was born, I was taught that I should learn how to play instruments and to sing in key. It came naturally to me, my mom was a singer practically from the day that she could talk, and my dad was in a band. The only choice I had was to follow in their footsteps. Same applied to Ben. It was like we were obligated to know how to play these instruments, but I have to admit, I like it.
Not because of the nervous break-downs I get when I hit the wrong note on the piano, or when I sing the wrong tune. But for the amazing sound that comes out when I finally get it right and all that hard work was worth something. Everything comes together in perfect harmony of voice and sound. And I'm the one who is creating it.
But my brother’s music and mine are so different. Despite his sensitive side, and his 'fall in love head over heals' has been proved not worthy in writing depressive, love songs. In fact, it I can say so myself, he sucks at writing them. Truth be told, I really don't know what kind of music his band plays. I never cared too much, really. Ben had his own thing going on, and I had mine. We were basically two different worlds and both of us never minded we lived like that. Ben was always happy because we had two different lives. I didn't meddle in his life, he didn't meddle in mine. Both of us were perfectly happy that way. That’s one of the reasons why we never fight.
I was sitting on the window sill, watching the sun rays coming though the heavy drapes that hug over the window, making my room lighter then it usually is. I stared down on the busy streets, the yellow cabs and endless mass of people that couldn't seem to calm down. I supposed they were going to the newly opened Starbucks shop, just around the corner. I could only imagine them going there because that is the only place I really want to be right now.
I had to admit--- coffee was my kryptonite. The only thing in this world that could make me weak was coffee. It is also the only thing that can wake me up enough to take a test in the morning. That's why I get up early and go down to Starbucks. Write some song lyrics while sipping coffee and mentally preparing myself for whatever is coming my way. It was, sort of, my ritual. To get out of my house and just be alone for a while. My family isn't a big one, but it surely is messed up enough to get on my very last nerve.
Ever since mom left dad, seven and a half months ago, dad has been trying to get us kids to feel like she's still here. He constantly takes us to church--- although, I do not see a point in that. God has forsaken us a long time ago. There is no need for faith now.--- Sometimes, he takes us to our aunt's house. Just like he would if mom was still here.
As for the reasons why my mom decided to leave; well, there is actually only one. And it is the most irrational, reckless and stupid thing to run away from your house and family. She ran away for fame of the Broadway lights. The theater stage and the crowd of people, enchantingly looking up at her, wishing they were right there, in her shoes. She was always different from all of us; it was only to be expected that one day she would run away.
I caught a glimpse of my notebook that was lying in my lap. I lifted it up and flipped though the pages, looking at what I had previously written on them. My sloppy hand writing was all over the pages of the notebook, some words have been scribbled over and instead of those were written some new ones. I also noticed that neither of my songs have titles. I was always bad at making them up. I could write a whole song, but I cannot think of a title good enough to match it.
With a heavy sigh, I let my feet down to the floor and stomp over to the bed. Placing the notebook under the pillow, I slowly walk over to the door. I was hesitant to open it. It was still pretty early. But I had decided to go for a cup of coffee.
Pulling the door and tip-toeing into the hallway, I try not to wake anyone up. Dad was probably watching TV in the living room, so I'll just say that I'm going out. I don't want dad to worry, he has so much going on right now, I don't need to be a burden as well.
"Hey dad," I whisper, leaning on the door frame that lead into the living room. He turned his head slightly to me, smiled, then turned back around to watch the news. I noticed he was fully clothed and smoking a cigarette. His coffee has already been drunk, and the empty cup was sitting on the coffee table next to the couch my dad was sitting on.
"I'm going to leave for a coffee down to Starbucks, then I'll catch a ride to school. That okay with you?" I asked, watching out that my tone doesn't go too high, or become too low. He nodded his head, still focused on the news.
"That's fine dear. Don't be late for school, though. Your home room teacher will get mad," he said calmly and leaned back on the couch. I nodded my head.
"Yeah. They will be damn pissed alright," I mumbled, and before my father could protest, I was already out the door. I quickly managed to get mixed with the mass of people and get down to the much needed caffeine boost.
The crowd carried me down the street. The new Starbucks shop was located about thirty meters away from my apartment. I couldn't help myself but to go there every Monday and Friday. But not because of the much needed coffee in the morning. There was this boy--- according to his name tag, his name was Robb.--- He works at the shop on Monday and Friday mornings. So those are the days when I stop by to get a coffee before I go to school.
I stood on the sidewalk with a lot of other, unfamiliar people. But all I cared for was that this annoying red man would switch already to the green, walking one. I could almost smell the familiar scent of coffee coming from the shop. It made my mouth water--- although, I was trying to stop from showing it in public. Impatiently I tapped my foot against the sidewalk. It was taking forever to switch. As soon as the green light flickered in my eyes, I ran over the street and pushed the door of the shop forcefully. The urge for caffeine was too strong for me to stop it. Or the urge to see that cute boy again. The warmth spread across my body, the late autumn air wasn't present at the shop. And I couldn't be more grateful for that. I closed the door behind me and walked to the counter. The brown haired boy turned around and smiled at me.
"What can I get you?" he asked politely. I smiled back and licked my lips, leaning on the counter.
"I'll have a cappuccino with milk please," I said. He nodded and disappeared off to the back so he would make my coffee. Starbucks was unusually empty today. Thank God for that, or I would be late for school if there were five more people before me. The boy came back with a cup for me and slid it over, across the counter. I caught it and smiled at him.
"How much?" I asked.
"That would be $4.62."
I pulled out my wallet and gave him a five dollar bill. He typed in the order and handed me the change and the receipt.
"Here you go. Enjoy your coffee," he said and I took a sip from the hot coffee. I wanted to say something, but I bit my tongue and just walked away. The autumn air was cold, and when I came out of the shop, it seemed like I was going to freeze on the street. Unfortunately, I don't have any money to get a cab, so I have to walk down to my school.
Roadway High School was a special school that I got in though my mom's friend who is friends with the headmaster. Even so, this school is the best school I could have ever gotten into. Without those typical blond type girls and player guys. Okay, I might be slightly lying on that one. There are a couple of girls like that, and the guys who are jocks are also pretty stuck up. But the rest of the school population is normal--- as much as an artist can be normal.
It takes about ten minutes to get to my school by a taxi, but somehow, it took me about twenty minutes by foot to get to my school. Climbing up the steps that lead to Roadway High, I saw those blond girls sitting on the steps and talking about who was a fashion, who wore it better and some model scout discovering them. I rolled my eyes as I passed them, but I can guarantee you that they do not like me one bit. I couldn't care less, really. They are on the bottom of my 'give two fucks about' list.
"Oh, here she comes! The queen of the theater! The magnificent voice of our school, the girl who stole the hearts of anyone who has ever seen her perform. The girl who likes being in the spot light---" Finn appeared to my right, singing the words into my ear. I tried to ignore him, but he was too loud to shut out.
"But wait!" he said, adding a dose of drama and tension. "That is not our lovely Winter. It is her mom that preforms on Broadway, correct?"
"You should call Ronnie to zip your mouth shut just like he zips your pants up," I spat, feeling the rage starting to boil up inside of me. Finn blushed, looking around nervously, trying to see if someone heard it.
"How do you know that?" he whispered, walking beside me and smiling as if he wasn't making fun of me just a moment ago. I smirked and looked up at him. His massive double chin was the first thing I saw and I grimaced at it. I will never understand how a woman--- or a man in this matter--- could love all of this.
"You should know by now that even the showers have eyes and ears," I said, looking up the the small camera placed in the corner of the sealing. Finn cursed to himself and grabbed my hand which made me come to a halt. He looked at me, his hazel eyes sparkling with vulnerability.
"Wint, please do not say a word to anyone!" he pleaded, seconds parting the floor meeting his knees and him begging me not to reveal his dirty little secret to the world. I smirked. This was the first time I was the one with the information that could potentially destroy him. Lucky for Finn, I'm a relatively good person I will forgive him for all those times that he bullied me.
"You two together?" I winked at him. He smiled and blushed a bit before confirming.
"I won't tell a soul. You have my word," I said and tapped him on the shoulder. I walked pass him, but he was trying to catch up with me.
"Hey, Wint!" he called again. I stopped and turned around.
"Didn't I mention that if you keep annoying me, I will tell everyone in school that you have a relationship with the guy all girls swoon after," I snapped and folded my hands on my chest. He sighed and walked up to me.
"I just wanted to say that you might want to get your sarcasm ready because Rae and her crew are waiting for you in Chem," he warned and disappeared. I frowned and swiftly turned on my heel. I walked fast though the crowded hallways until I came to the door on the east wing of Chemistry class. I pushed the door open, forcefully entering and dragging daggers at anyone who looked up at me--- basically everyone.
"Well, little miss tantrum is here," Rae commented, which forced an avalanche of fake laughing to echo though the classroom. I walked up to her table and leaned my weight on it.
"I suggest you stop making fun of me and look at your refection. I bet your baboon butt-cheeks will give you something to laugh about," I said, completely calm while everyone around me was staring at me like I was about to be eaten alive. Rae--- on the other hand--- kept her mouth completely shut and leaned on the back of her chair, looking up at me. She couldn't come up with a good enough of a reply.
I smiled victoriously and walked up to my place, letting my bag drop by the table.
"I like the comparison. Although, I think that it would be the insult to all baboon's," the girl next to me whispered and gave me a smile.
"Yeah. It would be an insult to anyone to be compared to that," I said with disgust filling my voice. The girl next to me chuckled and shook her head.
"To think I was friends with her," she said to herself.
"Makes me want to shoot myself," I finished for her. She chuckled again and extended her arm towards me.
"Hanna. Nice to meet you, ex friend of Rae," the girl said though laughter.
"Winter. Nice too meet you too, ex friend of Rae."