Author's Note: Just so's you know, anything in astericks are supposed to italicized, and anything that's got dashes like this: -- is song lyrics. This is what I use for the entire story, considering I can't use italics.
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Michael Englewood ran through the house. "Where could I have put the...?" He mumbled incoherently, then said to no one in particular," I got rehearsal in 10 minutes, and I can't find my guitar! NO!!!! No way! Not fair!" He stuck his head into the family room, which had a piano, 3 guitars, one bass, and a mixing board and turntables. He saw his new candy green Les Paul hidden behind his dad's Stratocaster. "I found you, Ophelia." Michael said
as he picked it up.
"Great. I have an older brother who names his guitars after Shakespeare plays. The world is gonna end, people!" A younger girl's voice said. Michael whirled around. His little sister, Aislin, stood in the doorway.
In relative terms, the two looked similar. Both had blue eyes, and blond hair. But Michael looked identical to his older, yet shorter, twin, even though he and Symon were fraternal twins. Both had the same darkening blond hair, and sea-blue eyes. Symon wore glasses, and his hair was grown a bit longer than Michael's, which was barely six millimetres long. Michael stood a full 4 and a half inches taller than Symon. Aislin had long golden blonde hair, right down to her elbows. Her eyes were a pale blue-grey, and she had to wear reading glasses, which she rarely actually wore. The youngest of the family, Jerry, had pale blond hair, although he was only 9, was beginning to wear his hair in, well, a mess. Jerry also had brilliant sapphire blue eyes, exactly like his mother, Kelly. He was by far the shortest, at only 4'6". The twins were 13, and were 5'3", and 5'7 ½", whereas Aislin was 5'1".
"You're thinking Othello. Wrong author. Anyway, what are you doing here?" Michael demanded. He gave her a cold look.
"I was going to practice my bass, but considering that I don't seem to be welcome, I'll just go back upstairs, and borrow your Black Sabbath album, which I had been trying to get my hands on for the past 3 weeks and-" The 11-year-old said, before being interrupted by her older brother.
"No, you won't borrow my Black Sabbath album. The last time you borrowed one of my CD's, it took me 3 months to get it back, when you said you'd only borrow it for a week. You can practice, although I have no idea why you'd need to. You're not in a great band, like me!" Michael said, standing proudly, if not too proud.
"Yeah, right, like Failure is any bit great. You guys don't even have a demo out." Aislin said, rolling her eyes, as she picked up a black and red bass. "And at least my bass isn't called something stupid, like Ophelia."
"What's it called, then?" Michael shot back.
"Link." Aislin attempted to explain the name, but Michael could not keep himself from laughing. "You know, Link, Legend of Zelda, the really hot video game character?"
"Ooh... Aislin has a crush on a N64 character. Who, little Link?" Michael asked, as he jumped from the guitar stands. Aislin swatted him on the head with her hand.
"No, older Link, you idiot!" Aislin said, still hitting him on the head.
"Aww... sibling rivalry. Been a long time since me and Damien got into a fight." A familiar voice, which was on the verge of cracking, said. Michael and Aislin glanced over at Art James, Michael's best friend, and fellow guitarist of Failure. The sand brown haired boy stepped forward.
"What do you want?" Michael asked, as Aislin walked away from her brother, then suddenly pinched the back of his neck. "OW!!! Give it up, will ya?"
Art laughed as Aislin finally sat down and began to practice on her bass. "Got an annoying younger sister, eh?" Art asked.
"Yep." Michael said as he glared at Aislin, who stuck her tongue out at him.
"Well, anyway, I didn't come here to watch you two get in a fight, again." Art said, sitting down on the piano bench.
"We got a rehearsal, remember?" Michael said, putting Ophelia in its guitar case.
"Umm... yeah. That's why I came." Art said, his face suddenly growing worried.
"Why are you looking like that?" Michael asked.
"Um.. well, I have no idea how you're going to take this...." Art said hesitantly.
"Just spit it out, buddy." Michael said, still just as confused as ever.
"Failure failed, dude. The guys called me earlier, and told me they wanted out." Art said.
"WHAT?! Why?" Michael asked.
"Half of them are going on hockey teams, and the other lot, well, they simply didn't want to perform anymore." Art said, shrugging.
"Then what are we supposed to do?" Michael asked, completely annoyed.
"I dunno." Art shrugged.
"Start a new band." Aislin piped up. Art and Michael looked at her.
"With who?" Art asked.
"Hey, I wouldn't mind being in a band." Symon, Michael's twin, said. He was standing in the doorway of the family room. "And I'd say that Jerry and Aislin are willing to join too."
"Yeah, like I'm being in a band with my siblings. That's as uncool as it gets." Michael said, waving Symon and Aislin off.
"Come on, Mike. We're not that bad. And you know it." Symon said. "Plus, it's Newfoundland, remember? There's a ton of bands with family members in it."
"But they're traditional!!! I'm a rock artist!" Michael yelled.
"Then we're a rock band. Just 'cause most bands are traditional here doesn't mean we have to be." Aislin said.
"Your sister makes a lot of sense." Art agreed.
"We don't have a drummer. What band doesn't have a drummer?" Michael asked.
"We look for one. Actually, Damien knows someone who's a drummer. He might be in another band, but I'm not sure." Art said.
"So all we have do is talk to people and see if anyone can play drums. Simple." Aislin shrugged.
"Yeah. And me and you play guitar, and Aislin would play in bass, and Symon will play keyboards." Art said.
"Well, I guess. But what about a name?" Michael said.
"We'll think of that later. Now we look for a drummer, and think of songs, and everything else." Symon said.
"Yeah, okay." Everyone agreed.
"Well, if you all don't mind, I was going to practice."Aislin said. She sat down, with her bass strapped on, and started to play a low beat and began to softly sing, oblivious to the fact that her two older brothers and another person was in the room.
--Now we're flying to the moon and back--
--If you'll be, if you'll be my baby--
--Got a ticket for a place where we both belong--
--If you'll be, if you'll be my baby...--
Michael turned to Art. "Maybe she won't be so bad in the band after all."
"Hey, Jer?" Michael stuck his head through the door of his youngest brother's door.
"Yeah?" Jerry asked, not looking up from his homework.
"Did Ace or Symon tell you what we're working on?" Michael asked.
"No." Jerry said, scribbling down something.
"Well, we're getting together a new band... and we're figuring, you know, a DJ wouldn't be too bad in a band. I mean, it's not like you're horrible at what you do. You're a prodigy. I mean, how many bands can say that one of their members is that talented without even trying?"
"So basically, you're saying you want me in the band ‘cause it'll make you look good?" Jerry said, turning to face him.
"No! Not at all. We want you in the band because you're a good DJ. That's why." Michael said, stepping into the incredibly messy room. "God. Your room's some messy."
"It's not as bad as yours." Jerry said with a bit of a laugh in his voice.
"Ha ha. Very funny." Michael said, standing over his shoulder. He looked at Jerry's homework. "What the hel- er, heck is this? Enriched Language?" He glanced at Jerry. "Okay, when I was in Grade 4, there was no such thing as Enriched Language. You've been hanging around Symon a bit too much, squirt."
"No, I haven't. The teacher put me in this program." Jerry said.
"And Dad, right?" Michael said. He plunked his hand on Jerry's shoulder.
"Well... yeah. He did. But that's beside the point." Jerry said, hiding his homework so Michael couldn't annoy him about it anymore. "You really sure you want a 9-year-old in your band? I mean, I could really bring down your chances of being able to perform somewhere."
"Hey, we can't get into any good venues as it is now. We're too young. I mean, Symon, me and Art are only 13. The only places we'll actually be able to play at are talent shows and schools." Michael shrugged. "So... whaddya think?"
"I guess..." Jerry started.
"Great! Then you'll be able to help make the audition posters and put ‘em up on your level at the school!" Michael said loudly. He dashed out of the room and downstairs.
Jerry watched his older brother go running, and sighed. Michael's plans were always a little strange.