You know how there is always those zany college movies, where the students get into all sorts of crazy shenanigans? Real life isn’t like that at all, in fact, if you got into any of those situations you’d probably end up in prison. We all know that kidnapping your rival schools mascot is going to give you a boost in regards to he homecoming game, but don’t do it – leave all of that up to the actors and Hollywood buffs! I’m going to share my story with all of you readers out there, because there is a certain amount of pressure being put on your when you get into high school. Making the leap from middle-school to the “big leagues” can be hard, especially if you’re a little wimpy kid like I was. I wasn’t the biggest, and I wasn’t the smartest. Girls were prettier and the jocks were larger, it felt as if I was being dropped in the middle of a brand new planet. High school is mostly about maintaining a clique of friends, and I knew I needed my own little crew to fit in with.
My school wasn’t that large, but it wasn’t exactly small. There were about 400 people within the school, and that’s including all grades from 9 to 12. Since the school is smaller than most, people would know you almost immediately.. If someone had a class with you, everybody would know your name. I’m small and named Thomas, so people would snicker when I walked by and say “look, there goes tiny Thomas!”. It hurt, of course, but I knew it was just kids being cruel. I was mature for my age, so I could take all of the teasing, what I couldn’t take was the loneliness. I had to eat my lunches in the wash room for the first few weeks of school, that is, until I met Frank.
Frank was a lanky guy with slicked back black hair, and he didn’t seem like a loser in any sense. He dressed in clothes that all of the “normal” kids wore, and he spoke as if he was intelligent – it’s almost like he was reaching out to me. He said that he saw the way people treated me, and that he didn’t’ have many friends either; he asked if I wanted to go to the music room after school that day. I agreed, because I had never been asked to hang out with somebody before! I went and Frank was playing his guitar, so I immediately wanted one for myself. He smiled and told me to come in when I walked up to the door, and then he played a funky little riff on the strings.
I thought that the guitar Frank has was so cool, that I took it upon myself to buy one. I looked at many different places on the internet, but i felt as if www.theinstrumentreviewer.com was the best option for me. The guitar came in about 5 days, and as soon as I saw the box, I got as excited as I ever have in my life. Frank could finally teach me how to play the guitar! The only thing I forgot about is the fact that I told Frank I had a guitar already, as I wanted to come off as being cool. Frank was so happy that I already played, and he kept on saying how he “knew I was that kind of guy!”.
I took the guitar back to school the next day and was waiting for Frank in the music room, and he came a little later than usual. He seemed a little puzzled and frustrated, so I asked what was up. It turns out he had just failed his driving test and was a little upset about it, and all he wanted to do was play guitar. He saw that I brought mine and automatically perked up, saying that “we can finally play together!”. We plugged them into the amps and he started doing his thing, while I just sat there and watched. He stopped about 30 seconds through and asked why I wasn’t playing – then my minds light switch flicked back on.
I strummed the string as hard as I could, so much so that the amp gave off a terrible amount of feedback. Frank didn’t even say anything, and he really didn’t need to; the jig was up and he finally knew what was happening. All he did was calmly pack his things up, walk over to the door and leave. Before he took that final step, he turned around and said “what the hell was that, man?” with a disgusted look on his face. Needless to say, we never hung out again.