Freelance: The freedom to choose
Author's note: This one goes out to my fellow band members from ‘On The Outskirts’ for the personalities and... Show full author's note »
PrefaceEvery person has a story to tell and every story has a meaning to share, so if you lose your meaning, does that mean you lose your story, your life? Well it does if you don’t have the courage to get out there and get your meaning back. I have a friend who lost there meaning and they could not be bothered to find it again… So take it from me because that was the biggest mistake of her life.
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My story began in a little country town called Frelta with a population of about three hundred. I was a normal person with a normal life, My Mum and Dad had split, and Mum had found another man, his name is Pete. Now Pete is not a bad person but I missed my Dad a lot and I rarely got to see him those days, now that is a completely different story. Maybe I will tell you one day.
By the way, my name is Sandra Lampard and I am in year 12. However I am 19 years old because I started school a year late. I have the plainest black hair that is ALWAYS too curly and that is not over reacting. The other day I literally straightened my hair and it was still curly. My nose is all mucked up because of all the times I’ve broken it, if I do believe correctly. People always tease me because of my eyes, but I still haven’t figured out why. The only thing good about me that I can find is my figure, a perfect hour glass figure.
Getting back on track though, Frelta has three schools. A lot of the locals know that one is too many, so three? What do we need three schools for? There are only one hundred and forty-seven school age kids in the town. The school I currently attend is called Frelta High, nothing special, but it does make it easy to write application forms. Any way, I was at school in my favourite class… English, I have a double on Tuesday.
When I say its my favourite, I mean because I like to write; It lets me express my self, put myself in positions I could never really be in, and my personal favourite, how people come up to me and ask if they could read my stories, that they actually like what I put on paper.
Story writing and jamming with my band are some of the only things that get me through the years when I am stuck here. My band is called ‘The Second Time Around’, and it has five members.
There’s myself with lead female vocals.
Lewis Ashton is our extremely hyper bassist, there is no doubt in my mind that he drinks way to much soda. If you need help finding him on stage than he is the mad man who looks like he shouldn’t be able to see through his black hair.
Simon Davies is our male vocalist, and he also organises all our gigs. If there is a leader to our band it would be him. He’s got dark blond hair that is usually mistaken for brown. And his brown eyes that just scream ‘Trust me’, but he usually wears red contacts when we’re on stage.
Elisha Smith is our drummer, and I swear to god I would hate to be her drums. I had never feared for a set of drums until I met Elisha. Elisha has blond hair with blue tips through it, and to this day I don’t know how to describe her eye colour.
And last but not least is Ashlee Rigg. I swear to god that there is no one else in the world who can synth better than her. I mean the girl has never had a lesson in her life, yet she teaches classes at some of the most prestigious music schools in the state. Ash has a new hair colour every week, and I’m not so sure she could even remember what her real hair colour is. Her eyes however are a baby blue that matches her soft face.
Again I am getting a little of track, ok were was I? Oh yer, that’s right, English. So my teacher, Miss Hart was on my back again. I don’t remember what she was on about that time, but I think it was something to do with Notes on Freelance. By the way that was my project is for the week. Do a report on your favourite band or your idol.
Freelance are my Hero’s, I entered a quiz about them once and I was titled Freelances biggest fan. Oh well, she should stop rambling on in about ten seconds; Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five… DING, DING, DING, “Excuse me staff and students please excuse this interruption, there will be a twenty minute talk in room ten, now.” Well that shut her up.
For the next ten minutes it was complete and utter madness, kids going left, kids going right. It never changed, every time a surprise was held, the students went mental. After about five or six minutes the teachers came to the room and every thing went silent, suspense I think. But who would know why anybody did anything at this hell hole.
This won’t last long though, it never does. As soon as the motivational talker comes out we will all find a comfortable spot and wait until its all over. And the best part is the teachers and the talker don’t even realise, they think we are all listening as carefully as we can. It’s almost sad that they can’t tell that we are all sitting there looking everywhere other than at the talker. I mean come on take a hint and do something about it, much?
Anyway I think that the whole suspense thing is caused by wondering how hard we will need to concentrate to tune out what’s going to come next. Last time the school held a surprise talker it was on underage smokers and how it is getting out of control. Well that really caused some havoc for the school to deal with, because the smokers (myself included) decided we wanted to rebel until they realised we weren’t going to stop just because they said we should.
Nobody really knows why the school even bothers trying anymore, I mean a lot less of us would get into trouble if there was a smoking area at the school for those of us who do smoke. That way we wouldn’t smoke in the toilets and get suspended. Yer sure smoking is bad and all but come on its not like you can just quit and move on. It is a lot harder than that.
I tried to quit once and I got all agro over the loss of nicotine and the school said I would be better off havening a suspension. Is there no justice in this world? I try to do what they want me to, and I get into more trouble than its worth.
So we all go into room ten when we get the go ahead from the teachers. Year twelves get to sit in seats up the back, but its easier to tune out when on the floor up the front. We all find a good place and get settled for a long twenty minutes.