Getting Better Pt. 1

"Turn the music down." Tony looked at the girl who said the softly spoken words. She stood beside his old Mustang, where he waited for his boys to get out of band practice. He'd quit after falling out with the lead guitar player. Hitting him in the jaw over who got first verse hadn't been the brightest of ideas. He shrugged, worse things had happened and he sure even worse would. He wouldn't sweat it.

Normally he would scoff at the request, maybe even say something smart, turn the volume up to let the rock music shake his car and those around him. First, he hated authority, and goody two shoes, who stuck their noses, where they didn't belong. Second, he had one wicked stereo system! The louder the music and the fresher, the better.

He looked up at the girl. She had caramel colored skin and short black hair cut into a pixie style. She was dressed in Bermuda shorts and a loose T-shirt, that read: Miracles happen everyday. He couldn't say what it was about her, but something made him want to smile goofily.

That was saying a lot. He wasn't a smile kind of guy. So, he held back. The girl looked around his age and nothing of his type. She also looked like she had one of those mini bible somewhere on her and would probably tell him he was a sinner and needed to repent. "Whatever," he finally said, but turned the metal down a good portion. He hoped this wasn't a new leaf he was turning over or anything. His friends would think he was going soft on them and he wouldn't have that.

A thought clicked in his head and he knew he had never seen the girl before. He should ask for her number, because he had the feeling he would not see her again, otherwise. And though he didn't want to admit it, he was very attracted to her. "I hope that was enough, I," he turned back, the girl was gone.

He swore to himself. Where did she go? He looked around in all directions, but didn't see any sign of her.

He was about to ask someone standing on the sidewalk if he had seen where she'd went, when Travis and Liam came parading out. Liam was using his drumsticks to drum the air. Travis was moon walking out, if it really could be called that. Tony wished he would just figure out he had no rhythm. Unfortunately, he really wasn't aware that he couldn't dance.

He settled back to his seat. He guessed it wasn't meant to be. He didn't believe in destiny or anything, but when things went so wrong, it was obvious you just weren't supposed to get with it. You didn't chase down a paper when it was obvious it was no way you could catch it, did you? Tony didn't think so.

His boys slide into the car. "Dude you missed an awesome practice. Liam ripped it on the drums, man. Kevin killed the s-"

"Alright, I've got to get out of here," he said, not wanting to hear it.

"Well, someone's in a crappy mood," Liam said in his monotone. No matter what Liam said. It was always the same. Sometimes, as much as Tony loved him as a friend it killed him. He would say, 'hey man, want a drink,' and toss him a soda. Then one day they would all have an argument, and Liam's piece in the entire thing would be 'you guys are really making me mad,' and of course this is always said the same way he asks you about the weather and about that bottle of water or Cola.

Tony nearly growled, but just cranked One Republic back up. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to hear about the band, he was no longer in. Why the heck would he? He revved up the engine and ripped out of his parking spot with a jerk. He tried to block out Liam and Travis who obviously didn't get the message and were still going on and on about practice.

Tony was so different then those two. Quick to get mad. Easier to press. More willing to get into trouble. More willing to even take the blame or boast. "No duh. I did. Who'd you think did it? Your Aunt Martha?" Tony ripped around the corner, he could hear the excitement in his friends voices. He regretted not being in the band. He didn't even know why he was doing this. Why was he wasting his time, driving, them across town for a band he was no longer in?!

He leaned in and turned the volume higher. They only yelled over the music to hear better. Just my luck. Block it out, he ordered himself.

It wasn't possible. They just kept talking. And talking. When he turned onto the back road to get home, his head was pounding into a migraine. A quick, sharp pain stabbed him in the head. He blinked twice and stomped down, in an attempt to stop the furious pain. He heard the yells. Then he heard a high pitched scream that wasn't familiar to him and was a warning. But it was too late. He drew his foot back but the car was already swerving off the road. And then the loud crash of metal and the screams.