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Post by ZIPPY JUNE MCKENNA on Jul 20, 2011 19:12:12 GMT -5
It was the summer break for many schools at that meant one thing, to some of the more odd children around: BAND CAMP. Zippy was very lucky in the retrospect that her family particularly her parents, had always been very supportive ontop of driven. As long as their kids were participating in something and doing SOMETHING they would support them a hundred and ten percent. This included pooling their modest earnings together and shipping their eldest American daughter, who wasn't even close to ten off to a prestigous band camp in Europe.
The camp would last most of the summer (nearly three months!) and while most were utterly horrified and went home within the first week with their tails between their legs Zippy had managed to outlast those her age and then some. This wasn't necessarily something she would boast about but it did put an extra spring in her usually bouncy step. The camp had already been going on for about three weeks and Zippy surprisingly found herself making friends relatively easily. When informing her parents in their latest telephone call Zippy had assured them that it was easy when music was involved. It deserved the credit, not she.
On one of her first days she had saved an older boy (though not by much) by the name of James McCartney out of the lake. Horribly embarassing for him though it wasn't necessarily her fault. Her good friend Janet, Janey as Zippy referred to her, had accidentally skated into the boy on the dock after freeplay. And while Janey could swim James, in his surprise, had seemed to be having some difficult. Zippy had jumped in after him clothes and all, a valiant rescue but of course James wasn't all that thrilled, or that thankful. That was at least 15 days ago though and that was in the past. She had shared dinner with the two, sometimes more, she had joked. She had pranked. Rarely however were they in the same class as their interests were vast on the spectrum. Zippy actually crossed paths with Paul a bit more during classical training hours.
Today they had all found themselves locked in the big auditorium as one of the guest teachers, a very old, repulsive, snide woman by the name of Bertha led. And, being as cruel as she was, she had each child stand on the stage alone and facing their peers, forcing them to play, and then ridiculed aloud. Zippy hated this, whether deserved or not, and honestly after watching Janet get ripped a new one for no apparent reason she had it. By the time her name was called and she stood center stage she held her violin at the ready.
"Zippy McKenna. What kind of name is that?" The older woman snarled. Zippy remained calm.
"One made up of letters in a random assortment I reckon." Zippy stated kindly, her violin tucked beneath her arm.
Bertha's eyes bulged. "Excuse me?!"
"Nothing." Zippy said aloud, her voice echoed from the volume. A few kids snickered, others slumped in their chairs. This would be good.
"Where did your parents pick a name like that?" Demanded the elderly woman.
Zippy shrugged. "They liked the sound of the word Zipper."
"Are you getting cheeky with me?!"
"No." The girl stated simply. It was the truth. Her parents were hippies. Plain and simple.
"Play." Bertha snarled. Zippy gave a carefree little shrug and lifted her violin beneath her chin and began to play.
It came easily to her oddly enough. Her fingers moved across the strings and her hand surprisingly elegant as it maneuvered the bow. She played an irish jig. It started off simple enough that it almost didn't enrage their guest lecturer but then it dwelved into something more upbeat. Some of her peers clapped much to Bertha's dismay who cried out in protest and waved her hands in an attempt to get her to stop. Zippy meanwhile smirked and began to skip about the stage all while playing she had to entertain herself somehow after all.
"THAT'S ENOUGH. STOP IT."
Now Zippy had taken to spinning in circles in place for no apparent reason, her brown hair whipping about. Moving to the edge of the stage she leaned forward and appropriately 'rocked out' on her instrument making all sorts of inappropriate faces. Once finished she sprung to her feet at center stage, looking blankly up at the scene before her. Bertha looked about ready to pass out.
"Leave. NOW." Bertha panted. Zippy was unaffected.
"Okay. I was over it any how." The brunette shrugged and very calmly scadaddled down the stairs and made her way toward the back of the auditorium. But only after adding insult to injury by highfiving a young boy on the way out. Promptly after her dismissal all of the boys and girls were asked to leave until supper which left a good few hours of time to kill. Zippy however had a head start as she made her way outside, violin tucked under her arm. She had left the case in the aud. Oh well.
Moving toward the lake she sat her violin down on the grass and pulled off her sneakers (bright blue ones) and set them aside. Moving onto the sand she bent down and picked up a tiny stone before proceeding to hurl it into the water. |
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Post by JANET ANDREA WILDE on Jul 21, 2011 16:06:10 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://webdesignledger.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/ornate_1.jpg) ] after all is said & done You're gonna say you'll miss me. You're gonna say you'll kiss me. Yes, you're gonna say you'll love me - - - - - - - - - - - - "No. No, no, no, stop," the elderly lecturer demanded, brow furrowed and mouth in a tight line.
Surprised, Janey did as the woman said and stopped mid phrase, leaving the boy who was accompanying her on piano playing for a few seconds before, he, too, ceased. After all, with the children who'd gone before her, old Bertha had waited until after they'd finished their piece before she decided to, erm, 'critique' them on their childish lack of technique, youthful inexperience, and all other matters of things they couldn't really help, given their ages. "Is something the matter, ma'am?" the ten year old inquired softly, nervously. It was a meaningless question, truly, since obviously something was the matter.
Miss Bertha Fairfax sniffed; evidently she also thought it a rather pointless query. "The matter, Jackie—"
"Janet."
"Janice," the old woman hissed through gritted teeth, making Janet flinch under the weight of her gaze. Clearly this was not the type of adult who took kindly to interruptions, even if it was to point out she didn't even know her own student's name. "The matter is that you seem to be experiencing some confusion."
"I am?" J.J. replied without thinking, colouring almost immediately at the mistake. To her relief, the other campers seemed too worried about directing Bertha's attention onto them that no one laughed. "How am I confused, ma'am?"
"The confusion, Janice, seems to arise out of your evident gender issues," the teacher snapped. "You must know that you are a girl, soon to be a young lady, yet you seem to be under the impression it's perfectly all right to sing like a boy. Is this acceptable, Janice? Brush that hair out your face at once, girl."
The girl jerked and hurriedly pushed back her wild curls. She opened and closed her mouth several times, in order to retort, but she could tell there was no use. She did sing like a boy; she'd gained her appreciation for music and vocal stylings from those American men who were inventing all sorts of strange sounds. Janey could still remember the thrill she'd felt when she'd first heard 'Rocket 88' two years ago. So, seeing as Bertha was right, she offered up a meek "I may be in-influenced by one or two male singers, ma'am—"
"See you stop it," came the abrupt response. "Sit down Janice. Next?"
Horribly embarrassed, the ten year old remained on stage for a moment, before gaining some composure and dashing off into the group of campers. She sat down in her chair and shook her head so that her hair obscured her face; Janey was not in the proper mood to handle talking to anyone, let alone her very best friend at band camp, the humourously brash American Zippy, who was at present trying to catch her eye. Maybe Momma had been right, she thought to herself miserably. Maybe she would've been better off trying to get a role in the children's revues that went up all over the place in the summer. Sulkily, she scuffed her feet across the floor, trying to remember the choreography Momma had last taught her.
And then suddenly, quite suddenly, she looked up, frowning slightly. Was...was Zippy rocking? Judging by her wildly whipping hair and her sped up tempo, it certainly seemed that way. Janey broke into a smile, which broke into giggles, which broke into cheers with the other children when Miss Bertha declared rather faintly perhaps they'd had enough of performances today. She skipped out of the auditorium quite cheerfully, her youthful attention span allowing her to forget the uncomfortable conversation of ten minutes ago. Looking about amongst the chattering adolescents, she finally found the lass responsible for all their good fortune this afternoon, skipping stones across the lake. Pulling off her saddle shoes and slipping out of her bobby socks, Janet called out happily, "That was quite a show in there. I think Mister Berry himself would've been impressed."
Settling down on the sand, quite content to simply watch Zippy, she added, "I reckon I know where we could find a snake and slip it into her sheet music. You game?"
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Post by ZIPPY JUNE MCKENNA on Jul 21, 2011 17:22:10 GMT -5
In hearing the familiar voice that belonged to her bandcamp buddy Janey, Zippy glanced over her shoulder giving her a wave so to coax her to join. Not that Janet ever needed such measures, nor did Zippy, they always managed just to include themselves. This either made them social butterflies or nuisances. It sure as hell made them a super friendly duo. They always were sure to include everyone and anyone, and while they were talkative the two could be as different as night and day. Zippy was opinionated, loud, comical, even sarcastic (surprising given her age) while Janet tended to come off more sweet, free spirited, out there. BOTH were kind however and this was a good mix.
"Mister Berry. Strawberry, Raspberry, Blueberry... All were equally impressed I'm sure." Zippy said casually giving her friend a little shrug. For all she knew she may have just gotten herself kicked out of the camp for good though that Bertha woman deserved it. And it wasn't like Zippy would have anywhere to go. She was one of the few who came from the states after all. Where the heck was she supposed to go for the remaining, nearly, two months? A park bench? Actually, that might have been the better option when competing against that shrew of a woman (even though her stint would be less than a week).
"Now, why would we inflict such harm on an innocent snake?" The little girl poised tutting the idea with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Maybe a worm. At least a worm doesn't have eyes so he wouldn't have to look at her." Reaching down Zippy picked up another stone and proceeded to hurl it toward the water. "Don't let her get to you Janey. She's an idiot. Not even in my teens and I know that much." She was quick to reassure her friend, even if she didn't necessarily need it. McKenna could be protective of those she was close to or felt a connection to in SOME way which actually added up to just about everyone she met.
"Sheet music. Bleh. Hate the stuff." Zippy winced at the thought. Sheet music and her inability to focus very long on the writings had almost resorted to her quitting violin all together. Luckily she had other younger siblings to compete against, even at this young age, which made her stick with it even though she had begun to dabble with drums. She enjoyed the freedom of it. The noise. Plus it was just plain fun to hit things. "Playing what's in your heart should be enough. My parents know that and they're Republicans." If there was any mantra that Zippy lived by it was this one. Say and do what your heart feels. So the world didn't like it? At least it was true. At least it was real.
"Also don't think for one second you sing like a boy. You sing lyrics written by a boy, you definitely do not sound like one." Zippy added flatly, which was only emphasized by her own American accent. "You are not confused. SHE'S confused. You know exactly who you are. Bertha's trying to emulate other people. What's the point in doing that? It's been done." With a simple nod she looked back to the lake and then over her shoulder at her violin on the grass. A sigh emerged from her lips before she looked back to Janey.
"Plus she's on her way out. Ten years and she'll be underground.. And you'll be famous. So what does it matter?" Yes, even at her young age Zippy's sense of humor was out there. |
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