A Synderella Story

It was exactly twenty-seven minutes ago that eighteen year old, high school graduate Brian Haner Jr found himself enrolled at Huntington Beach Academy. It was without a doubt the most expensive, clean-cut, well-educated school he has ever attended. Huntington Beach Academy, better known as HBA, was best known for its creative industries department, attracting students from as far as Australia and Europe. HBA thrived on their cultural diversity and viewed it as a key aspect to their success.

As Brian walked down the halls of HBA, he thought about what his peers must be thinking. He was walking down the halls of the most expensive school in California in a pair of baggy jeans and a hand-me-down Guns and Roses shirt his father gave to him. He knew they would see him as a joke, and who was he to kid? When he decided to audition for the music program, he never thought he’d be accepted. Hell, his friends still didn’t believe that the cocking eighteen year old was going back to school.

Although Brian didn’t have a proper class till this afternoon, he knew it was expected of him to study nonetheless. He did have a lot to do if he was going to prove himself worthy of his scholarship. Figuring he had time to kill, and a good excuse to aimlessly wonder the halls, Brian decided he didn’t need a map to find his way about. After all, he was undeniably curious to see what other students were doing while their classes were out.

Brian continued to walk the halls and gave himself a once over as he stopped in front of a glass door. He looked at his reflection and could see other students passing by. Compared to their perfectly cut and naturally coloured hair, Brian’s dark hair was messy and dull. His jeans were well worn; bearing several rips and tears, while their black slacks looked brand new. None of this bothered him though. He was labelled as an arrogant, troublesome teenage punk, but apart from the occasional tardy in high school, he had never done anything overly wrong in his life.

Brian pushed open a door. Inside was the most expensive, extravagant Piano he’d ever seen. The room was large and for the most part, empty. Apart from the piano, there was a mix table and recording equipment off to the side. The floors were covered in gold coloured tiles and the walls were painted beige. Over next to the recording equipment sat a few beanbags and cushions.

Brian made his way over to the piano, gliding his hands across the gold coloured roses lined around the edges. He ran his fingers across the keys before tracing them along the enhancements again. He had never seen an instrument that costs so much in his life. Compared to this piano, his guitar looked like a piece of crap.

“You play?” A voice unknown to Brian asked. A young man about 5’9” entered the room and walked over to the mix table, looking at Brian for a reply. The stranger had fairly tanned skin and short dark hair. Brian looked him over and knew he would get along with this guy well.

He didn’t wear slacks like the rest of the students seemed to wear. Instead he wore jeans and a simple black shirt. Brian knew if he had any chance of making a friend, it would be this guy. “No” he replied. “Just wishing I was the bastard who could afford to buy this.”

Twenty-two year old Daniel Matthews looked this stranger with long black hair up and down. He didn’t look like someone who would attend HBA, but then again, either did he. This stranger looked like a street muso who would race from one venue to another, playing gigs and trying to make a living. Realistically, you would earn more making minimum wage in fast food. He respected the passion guys like him had for music.

“The name is Dan,” he said from the mix table. “Welcome to HBA. What are you here for?” Dan made his way over to the recording equipment and started picking up various microphones and carrying them into a small adjacent room.

“I’m Brian.” He informed following Dan into the room and grabbing a microphone stand to help him set up. “And I suppose I’m here for guitar” he shrugged.

“You suppose?” Dan asked suspiciously. “You suppose because you specialise in more than one instrument, or because…”

“Whoa, hold up there!” Brian stopped Dan. “Music is about letting go and never being reluctant. Appreciate it, and don’t analyse every critical detail. At the end of it all, we are here for music and it shits me to tears to think I’m defined by my ‘specialties’.” Brian wasn’t quite sure why Dan was smiling, but it made him feel uncomfortable. “I just play man! Simple as that! Just because I’m decent and happen to know all the theory that comes along with it, that doesn’t mean I want to use it to define what I do.”

“You’re descent?” Brian could hear the question in his tone.

“Knowing you’re good and saying you’re good are two completely different things.” Dan let out a laugh. Brian was right; he was so use to his peers who weren’t afraid to let people know they were good. Sure, everyone kept to themselves for the most part, but when it came to being better than someone else, that’s when the commotion began.

“I like you.” Dan said approvingly. “Do you have any experience with producing?” Brian shook his head. It was something he had always wanted to do but never really had the tools to do so. “Want to hang around? Maybe I can show you a thing or two?”

Brian accepted Dan’s offer, glad to have made a friend in such short time.

Notes