literature

The Lighter

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A short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class. Let me know what you think:


It was a blaringly hot day in early August, the temperature reaching almost 110 degrees. There was no wind, or even a slight breeze, to bring sweet relief from the scorching stare of the sun. The grass was covered in a shade of pale brown brought on by the droughts that seemingly come with Oklahoma summers. All newly planted trees were all crispy and dead; even the bigger, older trees that had been around for decades were struggling to hold on to dear life. But none of this had any effect on Shelly or the rest of her pit-mates. They got to skip the horrible experience of practicing out in the heat of the day, at least for the week of marching band practice that preceded the start of the school year. Sure they usually received their parts later than the rest of the band, but since they didn't have to learn all of the marching basics and then the different sets of the first draft of the marching formations, the pit could spend more time on learning their music and other things that were all a part of being in the front ensemble. And today was a day for other things: mainly, instrument assembly and maintenance.

"Hey Shelly!" came a voice from the good-sized pit room that was the northern outer-border of the main band room.

"What?" she called back.

"Do you know where a lighter is for the vibe strings? I can't find one," he replied.

"Yeah. It should be out here somewhere. I think Robin had it last."

"Sweet. Thanks," Christopher said as he came into the main room. "Wait. Where's Robin?"

"Seriously? What do I look like? A freakin' personal GPS?" Shelly said.

"Maybe." Christopher gave her a sideways glance, a slight smile on his lips.

Shelly sighed as she took out her phone to text Robin. As she waited for a reply, she asked, "Are you really already done removing the old string from the vibraphone? We just got started."

"Not yet, but I already have the replacement string measured out and cut. I want to get done with melting the ends so they'll have time to cool."

"They don't take that long to cool. Have you at least cleaned the entire vibe?" she said.

"I wiped down the keys," Chris said as he gave a shrug.

"Oh my God. You have to clean the entire thing, not just the keys," Shelly said, irritated. She tossed him a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels. "Get back in there and do the whole vibe: frame, keys, and everything else."

"Fine, but when you find the lighter, I want it." He turned and started walking back to the pit room.

"You'll get it when you get it."

Chris looked back to give a final smirk before leaving the band room.

"Damn noobies," Shelly muttered to herself as she continued to wipe down her own marimba's frame. She flashed a quick glance around the room at some of the other members in pit and took note of who was missing. Chad, Jeff, and Cliff were all working on assembling a new sound cart with the assistance of a few of the pit-dads. Erin and Jenni were both doing touch-up paint jobs on some of the more worn frames with a black paint marker. Tyler, David, and Cory were doing cleaning on their marimbas as well.

Shelly knew that not all of her fellow members would be in the room because they would be helping other pit dads to build the new accessory carts that would house some of the smaller percussion instruments such as cymbals, chimes, tom-toms, and others. There had been accessory carts in the previous years, but they had all been old, run-down pieces of crap. Mr. McGin had wanted to get new carts for several years after he took over the position of percussion instructor for both the schools' concert bands and the high school's marching band, but the directors never gave him a budget to do so. However, after Shelly had officially become part of the marching band, and not just a crew member like all freshmen who desired to be in pit were required to do, her parents could also become an integral part of helping the band run. And her dad loved being able to build stuff for others.

A sharp beep brought Shelly out of her reverie. She looked down at her phone and saw that Robin had gotten back to her.

Had 2 run 2 Lowes 2 pick up some things 4 McGin, the text read. Lighter should be on table next 2 sheets of pep music if nobody took it.

Shelly got up and walked over to the table to investigate. Sure enough, the lighter was there. She picked it up and went to the pit room. As she walked through the door, she heard loud conversation. Shelly rounded the corner and saw Chris sitting down in McGin's desk chair talking to two other rookies who were standing around, doing nothing.

"Hey," she called to them. They turned to look at her. "Chris, did you finish cleaning your vibes?"

"Of course," he replied, looking annoyed.

"Well that's funny cuz I could swear that it takes longer than five minutes to wipe down an entire set of vibes." Shelly stopped next to his instrument and looked it over. The bottle of Windex was sitting on the keys, the nozzle set to "Off". The golden keys of the vibe had tell-tale fingerprints and smudges of an instrument that had been neglected for a good while. Dust was sprinkled over the black metal of the frame like a light snow. Turning back to look at Chris, she raised her left eyebrow, daring him to lie again. He just gave a shrug in return and then sat still. They looked at each other for a few seconds, at an impasse. Finally, having grown uncomfortable from her unwavering gaze, Chris got up, walked over to his instrument, and commenced the in-depth process of properly cleaning his vibes.

Satisfied that she had gotten through to the stubborn sophomore, Shelly turned back to the other two new members.

"Uhh, we were just going back out to help the dads some more," one of them said as they half-walked, half-sprinted out the door.

"You keep scaring 'em like that, they'll never like you," Chris said over his shoulder.

"But they'll listen to and respect the leadership that way. Besides, it's one of the perks of being a veteran. I don't have to put up with immature crap. You'll do it too if you come back next year," Shelly replied. With that, she placed the lighter on the vibraphone in front of Chris's face. "Try not to burn down the building."

"No promises," he said as she left the room laughing.
First draft short fiction story for my Creative Writing class.
© 2012 - 2024 Lady-Kaelyra
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