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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Most of the band had taken to Coleen's suggestion like a duck to water. That was good, but Vans was tough to read. Granted, she was tough to read because Coleen was too afraid to look at her directly, but the hardest book to read was one you... uh, couldn't. Couldn't look at. The metaphor kinda fell apart, but there was nothing else to be done, except pray.

Now was the time to watch the band in action, the band that Coleen would hopefully be playing with in short time. It seemed like a fun thing to do and a good way to make friends, something her parents and counselor alike were always badgering her to do. And yet even here she seemingly had made an enemy in Vanessa. Ordinarily such a stressful situation would cause Coleen to back out, hanging her head in apology. Here, however, the damage had already been done and leaving would accomplish nothing. A certain dynamic of peace had already been interrupted; it was something she'd seen before with somebody leaving a leading role and an understudy taking over, but she hadn't been a direct participant in that event. Seeing things from this side of the coin... yeah, it was definitely tough.

Coleen parked her butt on the couch and timidly folded her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to chew on a few stray strands of hair as a nervous tic. She took her eyes off the musicians tuning and setting up their instruments to look at the gear they were using. She was sure they could prove her otherwise, but to her it looked like an expensive and complicated mess of boxes and wires, occasionally featuring a colorful guitar laden with stickers or the drum set that Brady certainly must have used. Even if it was plainly garage band material (or high school 'Battle of the Bands' fare at best), being here and seeing it in such a visceral sense made it appear so much more. Peyote Coyote could just as well be playing to the University of Phoenix Stadium's capacity crowd in Coleen's mind.

She was ready to hear them.
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Smoke On Her Face · The Neighborhood