3I have changed this slightly. Like...three words. Anyway. Enjoy!
"Hey, Mum? I'm going into town, alright?"
"If I say no, you'll go anyway right?"
"Right!"
"Be back by four."
I stepped out of the house, our door closed behind me, and walked down the road to the bus stop. It was raining, well, it was spitting a bit. Not really enough water to fuss about. I know what you're thinking. 'It's just water!' And yeah, normally I wouldn't care, but actually, when you have dreadlocks (even though mine are fake) you have to be careful. Dreadlocks can get water logged, and won't dry and will start to smell and... I can't get them wet. The world will end! Okay, it won't but my world would end. Seriously, my mum would kill me.
No joke.
Okay, I'm joking.
Sort of.
It rattled as it barrelled down the street. This bus was convenient in ways that you couldn't understand. It took me straight to IndieRock Cafe, which isn't really a cafe. It's more like a shop. No actually, it is a shop. And sells all kinds of shi- I mean stuff. Piercings, rings, tutus, records, dresses and loads of neon crap, that for some reason I really like. I went there to listen to CDs and stuff. So, I stepped on the hulking death trap that would take me to my heaven, and sat down on one of the filthy blue seats that was as far away from the shady looking guy at the back, as was possible. It wasn't very possible.
Gum littered pavement stretched between me and IndieRock. The store isn't very well known and only the most-hardcore of rock fans knew about the place. It's quite large to be honest; the front is a bit misleading. It looks small (kinda like those tents in 'Harry Potter', you know the ones that are small but when you go inside they're huge?) yeah. The bell above the door chimed, as I walked in.
"Hey Joe."
"Whattsup Kendall?"
My name is Kendall and Joe is the guy that always hangs out at the cash register. We only ever exchange a few words when I come to the store, that's all the human interaction that I need. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a loner. And in true loner fashion I hunched my form and bustled over to the turn table in the far corner of the store. "Burn it down" was playing, and I just barley resisted the urge to dance along to the rocking beat. I grabbed the headphones beside the playing record and shoved them onto my head, simultaneously adjusting my glasses. The music shoved into my ears, separating me from the outside world.
I felt my pocket buzz, and promptly pulled out my phone.
"Yeah Mom?"
Her voice was tinny and small but still had that Australian ring to it. "Pick up some tampons while you're out."
"Why? You out?"
"No. You're out."
"Oh! Okay, sure. "
"Be back by four."
"I know."
I stepped back, my back banging into something hard. With the phone still pressed to my ear, I looked up into the pale face of a very gorgeous guy. His green eyes were alight with compressed humour.
"What?"
"You should watch where you step." He said.
"Yeah, well, you should watch where you stand." I could just imagine myself, shaking my index finger in his face and someone saying 'Oh, no you di-ent!"
"Oh, no you di-ent!"
"Oh yes she di-id!"
They read my mind. The two people that jumped into our conversation read my fricken mind. They stared, clearly amused, at the two of us, my back still squashed against the guy's chest.
"River." He stated.
"Kendall."
"Kendall?" he said, in an incredulous voice.
"River?" I countered, in the same tone. I smiled, finding the situation actually quite funny too. "Do you know what's up stairs?" Despite, being to this place loads of times, I hadn't been up stairs. With these types of stores, anything could be up there. I always entertain the thought of adult toys and books, hidden amongst loads of alcohol. So I was very shocked when he said-
"Band tees."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Do you wanna take a look with me?
"Meh. Sure." I shrugged. My curiosity is a large part of my personality.
"So what kind of bands do you like?"
"Um. All sorts. I'm into Indie Pop and Alternative Rock."
"Indie Pop and Alternative Rock."
"Yeah...I've been working on that for a while by the way."
"Nice."
"Isn't it? So what do you like?" We stared at each other .
"I wouldn't peg you as a rock fan." He said, smoothly ignoring my question.
"Why?" His face turned a strange shade of pink and suddenly he took on an uncomfortable stance "It's because I'm black, isn't it?"
"What? No! Well, maybe..."
"Yeah. I bet you thought that I listened to R & B or Blues music." I scoffed. "I'm sick of stereotypes, okay? So don't even bother."
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