My Chemical Romance Marching Band Novels & Stories

THE SCHOOL LOOKED LIKE a medieval fantasyland. Metal knight statues that seemed to watch our every move framed the front doors. Couples snapped pictures next to them before going inside where the music blared with the promise of a good time. It was almost like Ruthie had written the script. Arm in arm, the four of us practically floated through the doorway and into the auditorium. We gasped with delight when we saw that it was decorated with hundreds of sparkling stars hanging from strings of lights on a lowered ceiling. A castle backdrop hung from the stage and flickering sconces in varying shapes and sizes stuck out from the walls like glowing gargoyles. Students melted out of our way, sta

Because for me, I'm just going to stuff them in my backpack, place the tray on top of the trash, and head out to the top of the roof. Not much showing myself eating in a place with most of the whole school where different groups of people stay within that border. You have jocks, cheerleaders, the popular crowd, the geeks, the skaters, the emos, the valedictorian, and there sits the drama club. Now that's the group I wanted to avoid the most. I didn't want to be tempted by them: I just practiced lines, danced, and sang. Out of all the schools in Long Beach, we have the best singers and visuals, making us the number one best musical performance.

Inside, the Den was filled with heat and noise. The air smelt badly of heavy drinking, sweat, whiskey, and cheap perfume. Maya looked towards the stage where a band played on a makeshift stage. The crowd was filled with a mix of shifters and humans, some dancing, some slouched in booths, and others leaning against the bar while looking for any new woman to approach. The floor vibrated as loud music boomed from the speakers. Maggie grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd to the dance floor. “Dance,” Maggie shouted over the music.

I reached out to wrap my arm around her, to pull her in for a hug—when the sound of music nearby caught both our attention. “Is that music?” I muttered as she pulled away, my eyes darting around for the source, spotting a crowd forming nearby. “It’s the Midnight Flame Dance,” she replied quietly. “It’s a special part of the festival. Like a tradition—for bonding, or healing, or something like that.” Her voice held softness, a kind of wonder, as she watched the glowing lanterns being lifted into the sky, their orange light casting a warm hue across the crowd. People began pairing up as the music slowly rose with a low, emotional rhythm that somehow matched the flickering flames.

Could we be wrong about them? Jordan elbows me. “Come on. He needs somebody to try his creations out on.” Roman smiles affectionately and points at him with a honey stick. “I’ll convert you one day.” I surrender. “The syrup sounds great.” And it is. It’s unbelievable. We all sip cocoa and join the crowd flocking to hear the street band. A guitarist, a trumpet player, a flute player, and someone shaking a tambourine. The singer croons a popular shifter tune. I hum along while Kent moves to the beat, lapping up cocoa like it’s going to disappear.