Freelance: A New Begining
Author's note: Live your live the way you want to and don’t let anybody tell you what to do. Because if you... Show full author's note »
The Start“Wendy can you believe I really got them, I got the tickets! I am going to the Freelance Concert! ME!” It’s hard to believe that I get to go see Freelance in person. Wow. That’s the only thing I can think about, stuff Bob Mickston’s gay geography class. It’s not like I actually learn anything in this class.
Bob Mickston is one of my idiot teachers that has an in for me because of my behaviour and the fact I am smarter than him. He is about six centimetres shorter than me, and probably weighs about five times more as well. He has this really odd bald patch on the back of his head but the rest of his head has plenty of the stuff. When people prove him wrong I can almost see the bald patch getting bigger. And it would be imposable to forget about his nose, I mean it’s too small for his face.
“Hey that’s really great news. Do you think that maybe, your mum would let me come with you? I’ll get my own ticket of course.” That’s one thing I love about Wendy, there is no way she would put up with being left out of anything that includes loud music or cute boys. I don’t really know what she would do if she couldn’t be a part of everything. She really is a great person, MY best friends always are.
“Well actually, Mum got a ticket for you as well so you are coming if you like it or not. Oh and about that, thank you so much for sending over that cleaner, it helped me out so much.” I don’t think Wendy knew what to say to that so she just smiled and did this really weird squeaky sound in the middle of her throat. “Ok I take that as a that’s so cool, I am so excited.” It must have been my sarcasm because she looked at me and poked her tongue out.
Freelance is the most popular up and coming young Australian band at the moment. Not to mention my favourite band in the entire world. Oh yer, and they are so HOT! And even better yet, all three of them Adrian Crest the guitarist, Ben Witens the drummer and Shane Darlson the singer, are only in year twelve. MY AGE! Not that I have a chance with any of them, I can’t even listen to them play without tuning out.
I guess that I had better tell you about myself. I have a simple look, I guess. My long curled brown hair that reaches to the small of my back, has blue and purple tips all the way through it, a suggestion from my Best friend Wendy Winters. My eyes are a light green, and I have a small green crescent moon tattoo on my right temple, it’s a friendship thing between Wendy and myself. It gets really annoying trying to hide them at school because it’s actually against school policy to have tattoo’s in sight, not that we really care.
Wendy’s appearance is a bit confronting, I think that may be why a lot of people stay out of her way. She’s quiet small, as in hight wise, I think she stands at exactly one meter fifty. I know what you’re thinking, ‘that’s not so bad’, but I’m not done. She has elbow length almost straight black hair that frizzes halfway down. And we can’t forget the small green crescent moon tattoo on her right temple. Again a friendship thing, that we promised each other not to tell any one the reasons behind it. All that aside, everyone says she is a really hot girl. But that’s just who we are. Once you get past the tough side of her she is really nice and one of the most trust worthy people in the world
“Well you can thank her soon, she’s picking me up from this hell hole of a school today because she has to go to that meeting with Mr Mickston. I tell you if he gets her to go too another one of these stupid meetings I swear she will off the guy.” DAMN. I forgot to ask Wendy if I could go to her place, so I don’t have to wait for mum screaming her way out of the meeting.
“Wendy do you think I could hang out at your place till the meeting from hell is over? I have some gear packed for a sleep over, just in case mum forgets to pick me up from your place again. Or I’ll just ask the office to tell her that I am staying at your place.”
“Yer, of course you can. My brother has a sleep over at Craig’s again, so we don’t have to worry about him either. But dad said he has some of his younger clients over at the moment, said they were about our age to, so we have to make ourselves look sexy, well more than usual” That was so lucky, if she had been busy I would have had to stay at school with Mickston. Had that happened, only one of us would have survived, and it would not be him.
“Wendy will you ever change? I have three questions. One, how old are these boys? Two how many boys are there. And most importantly three, how cute are they?” I hate to admit it, but Wendy and I are like the most popular people at the school, just because the boys LOVE us. Therefore the girls like to be with us so that they will be seen by the boys that they like.
“Relax, would you. Do you really think I would tell you to look good for boys that aren’t cute?” Is she trying to steer clear of my questions? She could clearly see that I want my answers, because she didn’t stay silent for long. “Okay, okay, chill out. There are three boys. They’re eighteen, and my dadas assistant says there ‘unbearably cute no wait, scratch that HOT’. There, happy now?” Yes, yes I am.
“Miss Williams, Miss Winters, do you want to share your conversation with the class?” Well no, that is a really stupid question. Why on earth would we want to do that? Well I guess its my turn to be the one to get us out of trouble. Now what was it we where learning this week? I’m pretty sure it was something to do with rain. Or was it?
“Well yes of course Mr Mickston. We were just discussing how the altitude can effect the amount of rain available to some remote places is Australia. Are we studying something else now?” If we were then he is writing a fair load or bull crap up on the white board, and by the look on his face he believed we had been paying attention to him the whole time. Much to his distress because he would have loved a reason to get me into trouble again. It surprises me how he still doesn’t realise I don’t care and neither does my mum yet he still tries.
“Oh. Well then, good job.” That was way to close for my comfort. “Okay then, if you really have been paying attention for my class then tell me this.” Uh-Oh. I may have relaxed a little to soon. He probably noticed the look of relief on my face. To admit this was almost like eating hot embers but as idiotic as he looks , he isn’t stupid “What are two components of the water cycle?” That’s all he expects? That question will really get us out of trouble? I’ve had the water cycle down pat, since grade three. Well, at least I think I have.
“Alright, two component thingies of the water cycle mabob, are…” Maybe I haven’t had It lodged in my brain. AHA. “Distillation and run-off.” Mickston’s face dropped from delight to nothing but utter disappointment in the fact that I was right. At least, I hope that’s why he is disappointed. I don’t get it, he should just be happy I haven’t started a fight in this stupidly boring class, like I usually have.
“Very good girls. I am glad you are finally learning in my class, but next time could please, not talk in any of my classes until I say otherwise.” Just as he finished saying this, the bell sounded telling me that it was finally the beautiful time called the end of the school day. As to get home.
It is finals time at school, so we all have to study and do a pile of homework, just so we can get an average mark in the end of year exams. However it is nearly study holidays for us darling year twelves. Huh, I never thought I would think like that. As we walked past the office I asked the office lady, Annie, to tell mum I was staying at Wend’s, and that if she had a problem with that to call me.
As Wendy and I walk to the front gate of the school, we recap what happened in Mickston’s class, and what other people did in our elective classes. See we don’t share all of our classes because Wendy wants to be a technical drawer and I want to sing in a band. I know it’s an unrealistic goal, but I want to. Wend was in the middle of telling me about when Samantha started singing Freelance songs really badly.
Samantha is the biggest show off in the world, she thinks she is so good at everything and anything but she’s not. In fact she can’t do anything right. I can’t even imagine what she would be like singing, and I’m glad that I can’t. Sam has this feral blond look about her, she tells everybody that is all natural blond but I saw the red roots when she came back from Queensland. Plus Her hair is SOO bleached.
“I mean, it should have been illegal for some one to sing so badly. It totally ruined the mood of my last poster art class.” That sounded about right, I guess when I chose music over poster design I was onto something really on to something.
“Was that really Samantha Kurt Singing? I thought a bird or something must have gotten into the school, and was dieing in pain. Wow, I guess you’re wishing that you didn’t choose as you call it, poster art over music now?” I didn’t even bother trying to hold back my laughing fit at the way she managed to say ‘I hate it when you’re right’ and ‘shut up or I will have to hurt you’ by just raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Just as we got to that ugly yellow ring road outside of the school gates, there was this horrible screeching and banging sound coming from back in the schools direction. I don’t know about Wendy but I didn’t have to look back to know that it was my mum yelling at Mickston for wasting her time, telling her things about my work habits that she already knew.
My lovely mother, remembers how much she despised her school and teachers, and doesn’t want to put me through the hell of doing the things that the school tells her I should. She was just as surprised as me when I passed year eleven with flying colours, and got an A⁺ in geography. I for one never saw that coming.
“Your mum is yelling already…” Wend Checks her watch to see how long mums been in there this time. It’s like a ritual that when mum has these meetings that we see how long she is there. “It’s only been two minutes, a new personal record, and not a bad effort, even for her. Oh, and Dad’s picking me up so stop trying to cross the road.” That’s good, we won’t have to walk through this crap sunshine. Now don’t get me wrong, I like the sun, but this is just way too hot.
I always knew I hated the summer, but when I moved to this crap town it got that much worse. Summer here in St Greenford is like what ever you get for summer times seven, and the unbearably high humidity doesn’t really help.
It didn’t take long before I saw Wend’s dad coming over the hill in his new shiny silver Holden four door Ute. He always has a new car, every time I see him it’s a new car which is saying something considering I stay with her at least once every single week. His name is George, lovely guy but he needs to stop buying cars.
I don’t remember the last time I saw him walking a half decent distance, maybe that’s why he has a nice little gut starting to pop out to see the world from under the flannelette shirts he always wears at home. He does how ever have decent head of hair of a forty-seven year old with a family history of early baldness. But best of all guess what he does for a living
George is an agent… yes an agent, as in for famous people. I don’t actually know who any of his clients are, but like that matters. I have a plan to show him my talent. I am going to stay at his place for a few days, and just as he walks past the couch to go to bed I will turn on the TV to a music station that has good songs, quote ‘I love this song’ and start singing. Either that or just ask him to listen to one of my songs.
“Hello girls, Wendy-wen can you please tell me next time you are having a friend over after school so I can clean the car.” Well at least we can go to Wend’s house in luxury as usual, but last time George picked us up, it was in a LIMO.
“Um, with all do respect Mr Winters, I think if you cleaned the car any more than you have, it would blind people as they walk past you. Besides I don’t really mind how she looks, as long as she works and gets me out of this heat.” As I finished talking George’s face lit up with the biggest grin, I guess because I was talking car and driver with him again.
“Well come on then girls, get in.” If I could only tell people one thing, its that to escape this heat, I so did not have to hesitate. I jumped straight into the back seat, which were grey leather, so cool. “So what did you do this time Jess? Rip an assignment up in there faces? Swear at them? Oh hang on, did you leave class?”
“Well… Yes, yes and yes. But that’s not what they want mum for this time, I mean it’s nothing really, I just refused to do a particular test, involving half of that classes marks for the semester. I mean it’s not like I can’t pass on just half marks.” Well I can’t, but I don’t really care. “The point is, they should realise that I wanted to leave after year eleven. But no, I came back, if they can’t appreciate that then it’s there problem not mine.
“Fair enough. Wend, the graphic company called back today, they want you to call them back as soon as you get home.” Wendy wasn’t ready to be told that, and all she could manage was these small squeaky noises. And I don’t blame her she just got told that her entire future called and she wasn’t there to talk to them “You know what, I don’t think I ever asked you what you want to do in life Jess. So come on, let it slip.” Is this really happening? He is asking me what I want to do, like he wouldn’t find out. But I guess this is just as good a chance as any.
“Well, ironically enough. I want to be a lead singer. It’s practically the only thing I can do. I’ve actually been planning to ask you to listen to me sing, and I will as soon as I get a band together.” That sure wasn’t the way I had planned telling him what I wanted to do.
“Really? I would never had guessed, you know I can usually tell if someone is a singer, it does kind of come with the job description. How serious are you about joining a band, and I mean this seriously. If you want to sing for me, I may be able to make you the lead female vocalist of a semi-famous Goth rock band called…” I didn’t care what the band was called, because he was offering me the chance to start halfway to stardom instead of from the start.
There was no way in hell that I was waiting for him to finish so I burst into one of the only songs I knew the beat to. Of coarse it was a Freelance song, Freelance all the way through. When I was finished we had reached Wend’s house, and to my surprise he was looking at me in a funny way. In fact, so was Wendy, and then at that moment I realised I had never actually sung in front of Wendy.
“WOW! That was, it was, well it was WOW!” That was not the reaction I thought a professional agent would have had to my singing, but I was so not complaining. I had rendered an agent speechless. “Well, I don’t know what to say to that. Except that I will do my hardest to get you an audition.”
“Well that’s great, thanks Mr Winters. I have just one more question though, when would my audition be?”. Not that I should get me hopes up, that would only make me more disappointed about getting told to give up on my singing dreams.
“Jess, how many times must I ask you to call me George, Mr Winters makes me feel like an eighty year old man who throws paint cans at the kids who walk on his lawn.” Well that’s great man, but why did you not tell me when my audition is? Huh? Would you like it if I didn’t answer one of your questions? As if he had forgotten my question (Which he probably had) he got out of the car and pointed to the house.
“Look Dad, I hope you don’t need the phone because I am calling Chalt Design back and nothing is going to get in the way. Wish me luck Jeski, I may need it this time.” Okay. So I get that she needs to call them back, I really get that but at that moment I saw something that I was hardly ready for. Something that froze me in my place.
Was it really who I thought it was? Was it possible that HE was HERE? Surely there was no way it was really him. Yer that’s it. I’m just seeing things in my excitement for possibly being part of a band.