The Guitar Tutor

The bell rang, the sound piercing through the air.
“right Frank, I think that’s us about done. Any questions about the pieces you’re learning?” said Mr Down, my guitar tutor.
I shook my head.
“ok, and just to tell you in advance, another guitar tutor may be taking my place next week because something came up with a girl taking her grade 6 exam and, well it’s just a complete mess really. I'm not sure if they can find another guitar tutor but just in case I’ll send your parents an email.”
“ok, thanks sir.” I packed up my tabs from the music stand, turned off the amp, put my guitar back in my case and walked out of the practise room. Mrs Wickers, the head of the music department, walked pass me.
“Do you need the key to the music cupboard, Frank?” she asked, looking at my guitar.
“yes please.”
“Ok, leave that thing with me and I’ll put it in the music cupboard so you’re not late for your next lesson.” I grimaced. I had PE next. Fucking PE with Brandon fucking Chesterfield and his gang of ass-licking shits. Why me? what did I do wrong? Do I just give off an aura of ‘come punch me in the face and call me a fag’?

oh shit. I forgot my kit for the second time this term. I tentatively knocked on the PE office door.
“yes?” called a voice from inside. I pushed open the door.
“um, sorry sir, but I don’t have my kit with me today.”
“Why not Frank?” he sighed.
“I, um, just forgot it today.”
“that’s the second time this term, I expect to see you in detention after school, frank; the spare kit’s just in that corner over there.” He gestured towards a slightly worn, damp cardboard box. I fished out a polo top and tracksuit bottoms and walked down the corridor to the changing room.
I groaned and opened the changing room door.
“watch out the fag doesn’t try and fuck you” said one of the faceless cretins in my class.
“like what you see Frankie boy?” shouted another. The whole class erupted into laughter.
I went to get changed in the corner and everyone within a five metre radius of me dispersed so quickly you’d think I had ebola.
PE. who the fuck decided that that was on the national curriculum. PE is essentially people kicking me in the head and being able to get away with it by saying I fell over.

After what felt like an eternity of being screamed at to run faster by my teacher and laughed at by everyone else, we were let out of the freezing cold sports field and I got changed as fast as I could to go and meet Jamia behind the canteen, like I do every break. I swear to god she’s the only remotely sane human being in this shithole of a school.

“oh I'm sorry, we’re you too busy gawping at someone’s dick?” she asked as I walked round the corner. I grinned.
“go fuck yourself with a cactus, Jamia.”
“what were they saying today?” she asked
“oh you know, the usual ‘like what you see’ bullshit.” I looked down. Her face softened.
“would it make you feel any better if I was to nail a dead fox to their door?” she sat down and gestured for me to sit down too.
“oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were working for the Godfather now.” I chuckled. She was the only person that could make me laugh about anyone in my class.
“now Frankie, I know people that will make sure this will never happen to you again.” She said, putting on her best Italian accent (which, by comparison to the actual Godfather, was shit).
“you racist motherfucker, jamia.”
“you started it dude,” she laughed “well I'm gonna go get food, you wanna join me?”
“nah, I'm fine.” I murmured
“Jesus frank, you need to eat.”
“I'm fine.”
“Frank I swear to god I'm gonna shove a fucking sandwich down your throat if you say no.” she stood up.
“calm the fuck down, J.”
“I don’t want you to starve to death you stupid fucktard. You never eat, dude,” she put on her best mocking tone, “now what would your mother say?”
“fuck off and go buy food.”
She sighed and walked off. She came back about fifteen minutes later with a turkey salad sandwich and a bottle of orange squash and put half the sandwich in my lap.
“you’d think that fucking canteen was the lifeblood of a post apocalyptic world with the amount of kids in there. now eat the goddamn sandwich.”
I looked at it, grimacing, but I was pretty sure that jamia would actually shove it down my throat if I said no so I took a bite.
“you should come to the pride alliance with me on Thursdays, frank.” Jamia said. I looked at her as if she turned into a unicorn.
“are you out of your mind? Everyone already thinks I'm a complete fag.” I exlaimed
“frank, you’re gay, I'm a pansexual entity that likes vagina, get the fuck over it dude.”
I squinted at her. She squinted back. We were completely silent for about five seconds.
“no fucking way.”

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. I pretty much slept through my next lessons and, when the bell rang at the end of the day, I rushed over to the music block to collect my guitar from the music cupboard.
I swear to god I value that guitar more than my own life. But then again, I value a lot of things more than my own life. It’s not anything special; there’s something wrong with the bridge which means it goes out of tune whenever I have to play anything on the twelfth fret or higher and the back panel that leads to the input jack is a bit loose, but it was my first ever guitar and I swear to god if it was human, I would not hesitate to fuck it. I grabbed the handle of the case and walked out, not really looking where I was going and all of a sudden, I crashed into someone.
“shit!” I exclaimed as I lost grip of the handle. I was expecting it to crash to the floor and break beyond repair, but someone’s hand darted forward and caught the handle just in time to save my sweet child from it’s impending doom.
“oh god I'm so sorry.” He gasped.
I looked up. He was about three inches taller than me, had a black tie, black skinny jeans, a white suit shirt that gave off the aura that he had just got out of bed and fiery red hair to match. I stared at him, transfixed.
“oh god I hope I didn’t break your guitar.” He looked at me, concerned.
I broke out of my transfixion.
“um, no, that’s ok, it’s fine.” I stuttered, I took the guitar from his hand and briskly walked away.
I had no idea who the fuck that was, but I couldn’t stop thinking of him.

Notes

this is my first time writing fanfiction so i'm going to apologise in advance for the levels of shit in this