"Girls Rock" Part1

Girls Rock" Part 1
By Johnny Hellström


In a relatively small town somewhere in the free world, two teenagers, a girl and a boy, sat in a semi-small bedroom.

On a bookshelf, a CD-player was playing "Running Free" by Iron Maiden, from their self-titled debut album from 1980.
Their first two albums had a more punk rock feel to them, mostly because of the vocals by Paul Di’Anno.
They didn’t sound bad, but they definitely improved when they replaced Di’Anno with Bruce Dickinson in 1981.

“Are we supposed to be in class right now?” The teenage boy asked, spinning the office chair he was sitting on around.
The girls sitting on the bed looked at her wrist watch and thought for a second.

“I think so. It starts at 12:35, right?”
The boy picked up a bag of potato chips from the desk next to him.

“Maybe,” he said, while opening the bag, “Is it Monday?”
She shook her head.

“Nope, it’s Wednesday.”

“Oh. Then yes.” he said, and started eating some chips from the bag.

“What time is it now?” he asked, while munching on the chips.

“12:34.”

“What class did we have now?” he asked.

“Math,” she replied, and stretched out her arm towards him.
“And you know what that means.”
He handed over the bag.

The bedroom they were in was located in a town-house about 300 meters from the school, there was no way they would make it there in time.

“Is there a test today?” As usual, he was relying on her for information.

“What, in math? No, that’s next week.”
What would he do without her?

“I guess we should really be going then, huh?” she said, wildly unenthusiastically.

“I guess,” he sighed.

He looked over at her, and asked what they both knew would have to happen. “Does that mean we have to get up?”

“Yeah…” she replied, even more unenthusiastic.

They both sat quietly for a moment, both half thinking that the other would start moving first, encouraging the other to get moving, and make it to class, even if they’d be late.
The other half was hoping the other was saying the words that would save them the effort.
They could hear the opening riff of Phantom of the Opera from the old, worn down speakers.

Finally, Dave, (you probably figured it out, seeing as there are only two people there, but he’s the boy) broke the silence.

“Skip it?” he asked, with a shrug.

“God, yes.” Anna (the girl, obviously) said, with a what-to-you-so-long look, grateful she didn’t have to get up for a while longer.
She leaned back and continued eating chips.

Dave had semi-long brown hair and brown eyes with a tint of yellow.
He was skinny, average height and wore a well-used Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black pants.
His white skin was dotted with liver spots.

Anna was kind of short and had long hair with brown and red colour shift.
She had one green eye (the left) and one blue eye (the right).
She had pale, white skin and wore a Guns N' Roses t-shirt and torn jeans.

When she was out shopping for new jeans, to replace her worn out pair, she found almost the exact same pair she wore, but instead of being like her old ones, that were torn from normal wear and tear, these were made to look that way.
The pre-torn pants cost more than three times what she paid for the ones she wore.
She decided it would be cheaper to buy three cheaper pairs, and if she kept wearing them, eventually they would look like the expensive ones, too.

Anna passed the bag back to Dave.
“Do you have any juice? Those potato chips made me thirsty.” Anna asked.

“I’ll go check.” Dave replied, and left the room.

She spread out on the bead, happy she didn’t have to get up, herself.
She lazily studied the posters of various rock bands and/or barely clothed girls that covered the walls, stopping extra long on a bikini clad girl sitting on the hood of a sports car.
How did she not slide off? The car looked well waxed.
She looked pretty well waxed herself, Anna noticed, smirking to herself.

Dave returned shortly with a plastic jug about half-full with orange juice.
She took it and happily began drinking it.
Dave watched her, amazed over how she could gulp it down so quickly.
When she finally stopped and gave out a sigh of relief, only about a third of the juice was left.

“She must have been really thirsty.” Dave thought to himself.
“How the hell can you drink like that?” He asked, half admiring, half grossed out.

“I got skills,” She replied, smirking.

She handed over the juice.
He looked at the jug, amazed by how much had disappeared in such a short time.

“You must have downed like…”
He tried to figure out how much was in it when she started to drink and how much was left now, but he couldn’t figure it out.

“A lot,” he finished.

“I don’t think you should skip math any more, sounds like you need it,” Anna giggled.

Dave started sipping on the juice.
He wasn’t going to try to drink like her, not again.
Last time he tried, he choked almost instantly.

“Some people have it, and others don’t,” Anna had stated, trying not to gloat over her superior drinking capabilities.

Anna lie down on her back on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping to get some rest before they had to get back to school.
Dave stopped drinking and glanced over at her.
She looked so peaceful, taking deep, calm breaths.

Dave couldn’t help but notice her breast gently rising and sinking when she inhaled and exhaled, completely relaxed.
Inhale. Her breasts went up.
Dave tried his best not to stare,
Exhale, they went down again.
He couldn’t stop.

“Stop that! She’s your best friend! Show her some respect!” He thought to himself, but he couldn’t obey his own command.

He found it impossible not to stare at her breasts, heaving under that tight t-shirt.
Dave felt his face get hot and red.
He was embarrassed by that, and wanted to get up, but that would be even more embarrassing.
He couldn’t get up, but the problem was, part of him was already up...

She opened one eye slightly and smiled as she closed it again.
Dave felt even more embarrassed now.
Had she noticed him staring, and the effect that had on him, the embarrassing physical reaction?

He tried to order himself to stop.

“Don’t stare, it’s rude! Just stop! Don’t look! Don’t even think about looking!
Looking… at those beautiful… heaving… Damn it! Just stop!”
He finally managed to force himself to look away.

He put up one of his legs on the chair seat, a lame attempt to cover up the bulge in his pants.
He tried to stop himself from blushing, but of course, he failed that too.
I hoped she wouldn’t take this the wrong way, and get offended.

He glanced back at her, unable to control himself once again.
She was smiling, what was that about?

She really was beautiful.
Amazing eyes, long, soft, shiny hair, beautiful face…
She would have been the most popular girl in school, if she was more of a conformist “good-girl”, instead of the rebellious rocker-chick she was.
But if she was, would she be friends with him?
Probably not, Dave thought, grateful she was the way she was.

The popular girls wore bright colored clothes, always did their best in school, and listened to generic pop-music.
Anna wore darker clothes, had a lot of jewelery and make-up, t-shirts with various rock bands, she skipped school and played guitar.
In this town, that was odd, unusual, and wrong.

But Anna didn’t care; one of the reasons Dave liked her so much.
Her care-free, laid back attitude rubbed off on him, giving him more courage to do what he wanted to do, instead of what people expected him to.

Looking at her, Dave was amazed how much she had changed the last few months.
She had spent the summer with her dad, and when she got back, just in time for school, there was a noticeable change in her figure, and it continued to change.
Before she left, she was just starting to bud, and now, she was blooming, to use the over-used flower metaphor (it was the best I could come up with).

Not just her figure had changed, her personality was different too.
She was confident before, but now, it was like she had stopped acting like she was confident, and really was completely sure of herself.
Dave wondered what had changed, but he hadn’t found the right time to ask her about it yet.

Anna was 14 years old and Dave 13, turning 14 next week.
Looking at his friends “attributes”, Dave suddenly felt like his throat was very dry.
He took a big gulp from the orange juice.
In fact, it was too big, and he choked on it immediately.

“I told you. It takes skills to drink like me,” she said, giggling.

While laughing at her coughing and gagging friend, Anna checked her watch.

“If you’re done choking, we can still make it to a music-freebie if we hurry.”

Dave caught breath long enough to get out a raspy “OK.”

The music freebie was a relatively well known trick to get out of skipping class, with no consequences.
According to a study made by a local group, students who actively study music are less likely to end up in trouble with things like skipping class, not doing his/her homework, not paying attention in class, and the really bad stuff like drinking, doing drugs, and having under-age sex.
The group didn’t have any proof whatsoever to back up this claim, but it was enough for the principal to adapt a brand new music-education program.

On the side of the normal, scheduled music class that was mandatory, students could take part in some extra musical education.
All they had to do was go to the music class, and at the end of class, get a form, fill it in, which didn’t take long, all you had to fill in was your name, the current time and date, and a teacher would sign it at the end of that session.

There was no way of knowing if you’d been there or not, since there only was a teacher there at the end of class, nobody checked who was there at start.
So, if you just made it there before the teacher did, filled out the form, got it signed and showed it to the teacher for the class you skipped, and you’re free and clear.
And technically, since Dave and Anna mostly used their time out of class to listen to music, one could argue they were really studying music, like the school wanted them to.

It was ironic that the system that was supposed to stop kids from skipping class was helping them do just that.
Of course, the principal and the teachers either were unaware of, or simply ignored, that huge, gaping hole in the system.

There was three sessions Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so you could use any of those for your get-out-of-call-free card, but only once a week.
If you were lucky, and a teacher wasn’t paying much attention, you could use it more than once a week if you used different teachers, and if a teacher was gone, you could count on the substitute teacher was not fully familiar with the system, making it possible to use another freebie.

It was just a matter of time before the system would be declared a failure and canceled, but until then, the system worked, at least for the students who didn’t want to go to class.

Anna got out of bed, and Dave tried his hardest not to stare when she stretched and yawned.

“Right, let’s go,” she said, and left the room.

“Yeah, be right with you,” Dave replied, trying to think unsexy thoughts so that he could get up easier.
He got up, slowly, and went after her.

They made it there just in time to sit down and fill out their forms.

“You two must really like music, you’re here every week.”

“Yeah, we’re big music fans,” Anna replied, trying not to laugh.

They hurried away, got out of hearing range, and broke out in laughter.
They didn’t know how they could keep getting away with this, but they were going to keep doing it as long as they possibly could.

Most students who exploited the system only did it every now and then, afraid to get caught.
Dave and Anna (especially Anna), had no such fears.
Dave would probably not do it as much if Anna hadn’t done it.
She could be seen as a bad influence on him, but she also gave him the confidence to do what he wanted to do.

They got to math class just as it was over.
They showed their passes, got a nod of acknowledgment, and another class was successfully skipped.

“What now?” Dave asked as they strolled down the hall, once again relying on his friend for their class-schedule.

“Art,” She replied.

“Then English, gym, and after that, it’s finally over.”

“Can’t wait,” Dave said, wishing it was over now.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” she said, and walked off.

“Right…” Dave had almost forgot, the class was split up into two groups for art class.
Every other week, one group would have the lesson off while the other had it, and vice versa.

Dave and Anna were in different groups.

When your group had the lesson off, you were free to do whatever you wanted.
Some used the opportunity to catch up on their schoolwork, others went for a smoke behind the gym-building, some left the school, most likely not to return for the rest of the day, and some strolled around aimlessly.

Dave figured he might as well get to class, so off he went.
Art class was one of the easier classes they took.
All you had to do was paint or draw something, anything really, come up with a reason why it symbolizes whatever theme you were supposed to draw, and that’s it.

The art teacher was, as usual, playing classical music, by Mozart or Bach or some other dead German guy Dave didn’t remember.
She always played it, with the claim that it “stimulates the mind” and “helps you unlock your inner muse”, and so on.

Class had already started when Dave got there.
He excused himself on the way to his seat and sat down.
There were four big tables set up, and they all had their respective assigned places.

“Hey,” Dave said as he sat down.
The two girls sitting across from him ignored him, discussing something really important, like what to wear to that party this weekend, or something like that.

“Look who showed up to class,” the boy sitting next to him said.
He was a heavy-set black guy named Billy.

-Look who’s talking,” Dave replied.

-“I resent that. I’ll have you know I go to 80% of my classes now.” Billy said with a fake hurt look.

“Really? Since when?

“Since they started that new system,” Billy replied, smirking.

“If you miss more than 20%, you get reported,” he continued, “and if you miss more than 40% they inform your parents. More than 60% and you risk having to repeat a year.”

“Good to know,” Dave said, making a mental note to calculate how much classes he could skip without getting in too much trouble.

“You gotta plan ahead,” Billy said, smiling.
Dave nodded.

“I didn’t see you in math.”

“Me and Anna took a freebie. We went to my place.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?” He said, with a insinuating smirk.

“Nothing, just hanged out, listened to music, the usual.”

“Hanging out? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” Billy smirked.

Dave pretended not to know what Billy meant.

“Riiiight. You’re all alone together, in your bedroom, and you just “hang out”?”

“That’s right,” Dave replied, trying to sound cool.

“And nothing happened, because you’re “just friends”?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Dave said, trying his best to sound convincing.

“Yes. Yes it is.” Billy said, more convincing than Dave.

Dave just shook his head.

“Are you gay or something?” Billy asked.

The girls across the table stopped talking and looked up.

“No, I’m not. It has nothing to do with that. She’s my best friend.”

The girls, already bored with the boys’ conversation, returned to their own.

“I honestly can’t see why you haven’t went for it. She’s totally hot!”

Dave didn’t say anything.

“Alright, then,” Billy said, “If you’re not going to give it a try, I will.”

“-What? Are you serious?”

“-Why not?” Billy asked.

“-I don’t think you’re her type...” Dave mumbled.

“-Oh yeah? What’s her type then?”

“I…” Dave said, trying to think of something to say, but Billy interrupted him before he could finish.

“Skinny white slacker types?”

Billy was the opposite of that, disregarding the slacker-type part.
Dave however, was not.
Once again, he couldn’t think of anything good to say.

“Seriously, man. Can you honestly say you haven’t at least thought about hooking up with her?”
Billy asked, sure he knew what the answer was.

He couldn’t.

“Well…” He looked at Billy’s questioning gaze.
“No,” he said, turning away, “I can’t.”

“Thought so.”

Dave sighed. When did life get so complicated?

“What am I supposed to do then? If I say something, and she doesn’t feel the same way, I risk losing our friendship.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t want to screw things up with her.”

“You have to do something, or you’ll risk losing it anyway,”
Billy sounded sure of what he said.

“I guess…” Dave sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Alright, then, I’ll talk to her when I see her in English class later,” Dave said, hoping he’d figure out what to say to her before then.

“That’s the spirit.” Billy said, patting him on the back.

Dave noticed the teacher looking over at them, and realized he was supposed to be doing something.

“What’s the assignment?” He asked.

“Draw your feelings.” Billy responded, with a pretty good impersonation of the art-teacher.

Dave picked up a pen and paper and drew a big question mark.

“Done.”

To be continued.