Saint Joseph School

(Open to Out of the Blue members, spectators accepted on a case by case basis)

Malcolm was quite grateful for the summer break, and he was sure his bandmates were, too. There were no tests to study for or reports to write, so he hadn't missed a single rehearsal since it had started, and on top of that he was usually the first one to show up. With Jessica doing all of things that soon-to-be-graduates did (whatever that might be), it left him with ample time to hone his bass skills. Well, not so much that, his skills were fine, but as London often told him, he needed to learn to put some "soul" in it, or something like that. Playing and listening to music he actually enjoyed helped a lot.

It was a good thing that this was a rock band, otherwise he'd have some issues in that area.

Malcolm pulled his Gibson bass out of the case, plugged up the amp, and started to tune it. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the band got here.

London cursed the fact that Saturday practices were so early, despite the fact that she was the one who made up the practice schedule. But a lot of kids had lessons later on during the afternoon, some with staff members, some with individual tutors, and there was nothing more irritating then getting in a groove only to have some moron poke their head in and say "keep it down!" in a screechy voice. She inadvertently made a face thinking about it.

Harmony would be there shortly, unless she fell asleep in the shower. Sage too, she made sure to call him first thing, making sure he'd be there. Harmony had some new lyrics, and Sage had told her he and Timothy worked late one night hammering out some chords for it, so she was interested in seeing what it'd sound like. Laurel would be there too, like clockwork.

Mal, there was no question that he'd be there already she noted as she smoothed out the short purple and white skirt she was still unsure she liked. Plaid was all right, but could be mistaken for punk, so not the image she was going for. She could hear Mal practicing as she shuffled down the hall, him having left the door open, and she shook her head as she took another sip of hot chocolate. He had the potential of being great, if only he put a little soul into it. She stopped just shy of the door and smiled as she sent a text message to Chris. "Don't Wake The Reaper."

Still grinning, she two finger saluted Mal and took one of the metal folding chairs before setting up to play.

"Hey Hey, Hero, gonna impress me today?"

Mal looked up, tapping his foot like he always did when he played, as he strummed out what was unmistakably the riff from "Smooth Criminal" (Mal swore he'd heard that song a thousand times in the past few weeks, and he couldn't get it out of his head).

"Tryin' to right now, London. Good morning, by the way. How'd that Spanish final go? You never told me."

London mumbled a response into her cup of chocolate.

"Hey, you got that down pretty good. Inflection is spot on even." London nods along with him, putting down her to-go cup and picking up her guitar, adding the rhythm guitar to his base line. "There's hope. Listen, I'm supposed to hear back from a club today about playing out Thursday, so don't make any plans, all right?"

Malcolm nodded, and stopped playing.

"Thanks. Anyway, schedule's free for...well...until classes start back, I guess. Where've we got lined up this week? 'nother teeny-bopper place?"

London kept playing and giggled to herself.

"It's called Riff Raff. Sorta guitar-rey, blusey... we're going to work on what we'll be playing today. See if Tim-mo-thy has anything in mind. And no one says teeny-bopper, Mal. Not until you're like ... old. 'Course, with the way you move, it's hard to tell the difference."

"The way I move?" He asked, leaning an arm on the neck of his keyboard and quirking an eyebrow.

"More like the fact that you don't." She said, matter of fact with a shrug. "You're like... rigamortis rigid. Is that how you dance with your gee-eff?" London switched up to playing the notes of a basic waltz, stiffening all of her muscles and moving in a mechanical waltz with the guitar. "Serious, she puts up with that? C'mon. You're playing Michael Jackson, may he rest in peace. Show a little respect. Make like your guitar is your dance partner. Pretend like you're holding what's her name."

"Jessiy."

"Whatever. Do you dance like a toy robot with her? Danger Will Robinson, danger! Or do you move it and grove it?" She loosened up, going back to playing Smooth Criminal and moving to the rhythm, pausing only to laugh at Mal when he tried to copy her moves. 'Hopeless' was the word that came to mind.

"Okay, let's try less... march of the wooden soldiers, and more... motion like the ocean. Here. Like this." London took off her guitar, and moved behind him, putting one hand on his wrist near the neck of his guitar, the other by his hip. "Loose, Mal. Like this. Play it, and just move with me."

"Uhhh... hi?"

Laurel wasn't exactly sure what she'd walked in on, but quickly decided to go with Saint Joseph's School Survival Technique #3 and just pretend everything happening around her was perfectly normal. She got a lot of use out of that one.

"Sorry I'm late. Had to answer an e-mail from my mother." She dropped her knapsack on the desk behind her drum kit and immediately went in to her pre-practice stretching routine. She hated having to do that in front of other people, but she figured looking like a dork was better than pulling a muscle half-way through the set.

"So, what are we playing today?"

"Laurel! Hey hey." London said with a nod, trying to get Mal to take at least half a step to the left. It was if he was made of lead. And if it was possible? He seemed even more ossified.

Ossified. She grinned. Vocabulary word. She thought back to the night she was trying to learn to play "Just Dance" while Mal was trying to ram English jargon at her for a test the next day. It worked, she passed- as well as getting down the riff she needed.

She giggled once more, backing off slightly from Mal. Between Laurel launching into her yoga-esque pre-playing stretches, and mechanical Mal, Out of the Blue practice sessions could seem down right lugubrious.

"Morning Laurel, London." A short pause. "Mal." The girls had each gotten a bit of a nod in greeting, Mal did not.

When he'd first joined the band, Timothy had made a point of only coming to practices on the days Mal had not. Two reasons, really. The first a lot of people could get behind: he was too stodgy, who wants to spend free time with that? The second was a bit touchier: Mal and Timothy knew each other when Timothy went to St. Joe's last, and Timothy was concerned that awkwardness could ensue because of that. However, with the summer forcing them to practice together, the latter concern had never really been realized. Mal was still a good target for mild harassment, but Timothy had come to tolerate being on a band with him. He did have to admit, Mal wasn't bad on the bass.

He set his coffee down and turned on the synthesizer. "I don't know what the two of you are trying to do, but it's not working, whatever it is."

Malcolm very hastily decided that if London was trying to get him to loosen up, she was having the decidedly opposite effect. He tried very hard to not breath hard, not to sweat. He closed his eyes, cleared his head, and thought about what she said.

He was interrputed as Laurel came in, he looked up as London stepped back (giving him a bit of relief) and smiled at the recent arrival as she started her calistenics.

"Hey Laurie. Is your mom doin' OK?" He looked back at his guitar.

Maybe if I...

Mal hunched over slightly, tilting his head down, bending his back so he was almost hugging the guitar. This had the effect of causing his bangs to almost completely cover his eyes. Not a bad effect, he thought. He started playing, and as he did, instead of just tapping his foot to keep the beat, he bobbed back and forth slightly, moving his head in a way the longer hair in his face also moved to the beat.

"How's this?"

London frowned as she studied Mal, walking closer to Timothy's keys. "Someone's gonna call 9-1-1 and think your having a seizure. I like the headbanging, the hair in the eyes? Nice touch, but maybe... okay stand up straighter, but lean a little, like this. Good, good! Now... look bored. You always look like you know what you're doing if you look bored. Look at Tim-mo-thy, perfect example. He always looks bored. And when he's not busy looking bored, he's looking pissed off. See! Like that. "

London snickered as she cupped her hand around Timothy's chin. "No one's gonna care if he's moving much on account of this is totally a 'back off!' expression. Maybe you could try that?"

Sage stumbled through the door, later than he should have been. "Hey gu--ys. Whoa." He stared with a little bafflement at London cupping Timothy's chin.

"Uhhh. So! What exactly are we doing today?"

"Footloose." London decided on the spot, winking at Timothy before going to sling her guitar back over her shoulder. "Strong guitar, a little different, a little retro, it was good enough for Kenny what's his name. Sage, you and I can trade off. Anyone need to read? I can pull some tabs from the internet. Laurel? Timothy? You good?"

Mal smiled.

"That's old enough that I'm familiar with it, yeah. I think I'll be good. Er...who's gonna be singing? Sage?"

"I thought you were gonna sing it, Mal." Laurel smirked while settling in behind her kit. "Anyway, I'm good. It's in 4/4 right?" She assumed a deliberately clueless expression for a moment.