# Rock Bottom Chapter 3

Chapter 3
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Not even a week has passed, and already Fang has developed a seething hatred for the cheap plastic cuboid beside her bed. Several dents and scratches already adorn its housing. For a moment, the ptero considers delivering the killing blow and sending the annoying contraption to the great beyond before deciding on silencing it with a gentle tap on the box's top button. Not a great start to the day in any case. The room's stale air isn't helping improve her mood either. Probably should have aired out the apartment at least once since moving in. A gust of cold air immediately enters the room as she opens up the window, clearing away any residual grogginess she might be feeling. Wide awake from the blast of cold air, she slams shut the window before her teeth start rattling. This run-down dump of a town didn't pull any punches regarding low temperatures.
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Fang had spent the last few mornings attempting to make something that could be called breakfast. Her stomach rumbling reminded her that she was behind schedule in that regard. Turns out frying eggs is not that hard as long as you focus on what you're doing instead of SnooTube videos. Something about cooking it herself helped make breakfast far more enjoyable and filling. Hunger sated, the ptero proceeds with her regular morning ritual. The only difference is her usual scowling at the mirror is now replaced with cringing at the exchange with Anon a few days ago. Being a wordsmith undoubtedly ran in the family.
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Freshened up, dressed, and essentials securely in her pockets, Fang stops herself at the front door. Taking a moment to remember what she's forgetting, she returns for the prepared guitar case propped up against the base of her bed. It would have been awkward if she showed up empty-handed to music class today. Fully equipped, Fang sets out for that sorry excuse of a school one again. The gusts of wind make her regret her choice of outfit or at least the lack of a jacket. Checking her phone for messages should take her mind off of the cold. The ones from Trish are really starting to pile up, but for some reason, the ptero can't bring herself to block the number. The only other unread message is from Naser. Even being on the other side of the state, her baby brother can't stop worrying about her. Out of sight, out of mind did not apply to him.
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>'hey, so mom said things are going great for u over there at cock rock bottom'
>'always were a terrible liar'
>'my offer still stands btw'
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'if i said things are great then they're great'<
'fwr'<
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It should feel good telling Naser to keep his beak out of her business, but then, why does she have a bitter taste in her mouth? Suppressing the mounting regret brought upon by sending her last message, Fang makes her way up the short flight of stairs that lead up to the school. The gawking from the human students continues, but none of them attempt to do anything as she makes her way to class. For a moment, Fang considers storing her guitar in the music room to avoid lugging it around the entire day but decides against it in the end.
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'These filthy monkeys would steal it anyway.'
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While walking to her seat in history class, Fang glances a the back of the classroom at Anon. It has been a couple of days since they last spoke. The ptero has tried working up the courage to walk up and apologize to him every day since, with no luck. The ringing of the bells spares her from coming up with another round of excuses. The history teacher, a young woman sporting shoulder-length blonde hair that framed her round face, walked into the classroom. One of the few that don't look like a decrepit fossil. Her voice reminded Fang of that coral cunt back from Volcano High, false sweetness hiding pure malice.
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"Settle down, class. Today's the day you've all been waiting for."
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Leaning forward on her desk and closing her eyes, the ptero awaits whatever news the teacher has for them. These kinds of starts were always used to preface some bullshit assignment back at Volcano High.
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"You'll be assigned a random historical figure, on which I expect you to write a detailed report."
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The class collectively groans, even Fang joining in to voice her displeasure.
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"Oh, don't be like that," the teacher's voice reaching levels of sweetness to clog arteries, "You'll be working in pairs which will make the whole thing go by in a flash."
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Resigned to their fate, students begin pairing up among themselves. Fang makes no attempt to ask anyone if they want with her, already knowing the answer. Accepting she'll either be forced to work alone or be a third wheel to some unfortunate duo, Fang's thoughts wander. She can't help but reminisce about Vvurm Drama. For something that was supposed to be fun, it sure ended up being a shit show. Despite it being her idea, she ended up being the third wheel there, as well. Her suggestions were "democratically" overruled or flat-out ignored during the band's short lifetime.
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'How the fuck can you even have a democracy with only three members anyway?'
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The ptero's musings are interrupted by the teacher. Her voice being so cheery, Fang struggled to not audibly gag.
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"Miss Aaran, your partner is waiting for you."
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'What poor schmuck am I going to be stuck with for this thing?'
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Eyes following the teacher's motion towards the back of the class, Fang realizes the schmuck is none other than Anon. A pang of guilt hits the ptero, now really regretting not apologizing sooner. Trying her best to not appear too nervous, the ptero sighs and walks over to her assigned partner. Muted greetings are exchanged between the two as Fang takes a seat next to Anon. A quick glance at the already waiting assignment paper reveals they're supposed to do a report on Martin Lizard King. The ptero can't help but complain under her breath.
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"Really? Again?"
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Everyone else is busy discussing their assigned figure or, at least, discussing what the least amount of work needed is to get a passing grade. The outcast duo still hasn't gotten to the point of speaking to each other yet. Fang is preoccupied with looking anywhere but at Anon in the hopes of somehow avoiding the unavoidable. Seeing things aren't going to resolve themselves on their own, the human decides he's going to have to take the initiative if there is to be any hope of finishing the project before time runs out.
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"Fang, is something wrong?
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Four words are enough to cause the dam to break.
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"Anon, I'm sorry! What I said was wrong."
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Fang tries and fails to keep her voice down. Several students sitting closest to them turn their heads to see what the commotion is about.
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"I just blurted it out without thinking. I don't know what else to say, but I'm really sorry."
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The human stares at her with a baffled expression as the dejected ptero continues.
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"I understand if you don't want to talk to me again. It's like I can't do anything except push everyone away."
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Unable to further put her feelings into words, the crestfallen ptero falls silent, her gaze falling to the floor along with her drooping wings. Her amber eyes start misting over as she waits for the human's response if he decides to even give one. For a moment, it seems the human is about to reach out a hand to the sorry girl before deciding against it.
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"Fang, it's fine. There's nothing to forgive because you didn't do anything wrong."
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Snapping up her gaze from the floor and towards Anon at hearing this, the ptero's expression shifts between shock and relief. It also causes her to develop a temporary stutter.
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"W-w-what?"
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"It's fine. I get it, everything is new for you, and it's not like you can remember everyone in only a couple of days." The human lets out a short chuckle, "Besides, it's not like I try to stand out from the crowd."
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"So..., you're not mad?"
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"Why would I be mad?"
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"I mean, the shit I said and..., I just..."
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Frustrated at failing to find the correct words, Fang throws up her hands in exasperation before falling silent.
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"Look, it's not like you were off the mark. I guess I just wasn't ready to hear from someone else what, deep down, I already knew."
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"OK, but I am really, really sorry."
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"I know. You've said it four times already. Don't worry, it's fine."
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Relieved that she hadn't alienated the only student she was on good terms with, the ptero skims the assignments' instructions. Sifting through the word salad, she deduces they have one week to finish it and that it counts for half of their grade this semester. It could have been much shorter if it wasn't full of preachy bullshit about learning how to find the facts, whatever that meant. Eyes glazing over to spare her brain from reading more of the ramblings, the ptero zones out for a bit. She is only snapped out of her stupor when Anon clears his throat.
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"So, how are we gonna do this?" The humans appears equally annoyed at the assignment, "I swear this is the third time I've had to write something about a trigger."
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A second passes before Anon's brain catches up to what his mouth just unleashed.
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"Shit...I mean...uh..."
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Beads of sweat forming on Anon's forehead accompany his worried expression. Agonizing seconds pass before Fang drops her poker face and starts laughing.
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"Pfffft, it's fine," she waves dismissively towards Anon, "As long as none of them are around to hear you, that is. Anyway, I already have a report on the tr-, I mean, the guy from my old school. I can just change the names and be done with it."
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"You sure we won't get in trouble?"
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An exaggerated eye roll made it clear to the human what Fang thought of that.
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"This school can barely afford to keep the lights on. I doubt they give a shit if the report was written for some other school."
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"Alright, alright. I just don't want to get on the teacher's bad side."
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"Don't worry about that, me and my... friend," Fang almost chokes on the last word, "knew what these types want to hear. The teacher will lap it up for sure."
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Anon checks the instruction sheet to confirm something, obviously getting lost a few times in the process as he navigates the maze of buzzwords lining the page.
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"We have until next Friday."
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"Pretty sure I can change the names by then."
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With the project done before it began, the two idle in their seats, waiting for time to pass. Fang has decided to use the remaining time to stare at the ceiling while leaning back on the chair. With a good portion of the period remaining, the human decides to ask what has been on his mind for several days.
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"So, what was it like at your old school?"
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A smirk forms on the ptero's face as she continues to stare at the ceiling, "Way cleaner."
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"Haha, I bet. But that's not what meant."
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Fang turns to the human, her mischievous smile turning into a frown, "I sure as fuck wasn't popular if that's what you're asking."
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Propping a leg against the desk, she proceeds to rock herself back and forth while considering just how much she's willing to divulge.
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"Was even in a band for a while. Didn't change my pariah status, though. Probably made things worse if I'm being honest."
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The ptero pulls out her phone and begins flicking the screen with her finger, talking more to herself than Anon at this point.
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"Can't even join a band in this shithole. The few people that won't act like dicks will just run away pissing themselves."
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No more words come forth. Even the idle swiping at the screen stops as Fang becomes lost in her own thoughts. Anon can't help but want to know more, though.
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"So they didn't like your music?"
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The sound snaps her out of the trance.
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"That's one hell of an understatement."
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Recalling some of the more painful memories ruins the ptero's mood completely. It takes all of Fang's willpower to not break down and start crying.
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"You know, for a while, I believed with all my heart that everyone who said we sucked was nothing but a stupid, jealous retard." A small chuckle escapes her, "I still do, but they were right about one thing. We did suck."
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Seeing the miserable sight in front of him, Anon desperately searches for something to say that would lift the poor girl's spirits.
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"Isn't it kind of unfair to expect much if you guys only just started learning how to play?"
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"What? No. We all knew how to play. Hell, I've been playing instruments since pre-k." She searches for a proper way to explain before giving up, "We just had a...gimmick that made things more difficult than they should have been."
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Thinking of himself as a genius, Anon presents a solution that Fang surely never thought of.
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"Why not just drop the gimmick?"
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If looks could kill, Anon would be a dead man right now.
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"You don't think I-"
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Each word increases in volume and fury. Fang barely manages to reign herself in before saying something she'd regret right after.
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"Look, let's just drop it. It's a long, painful story, and it's over now anyway."
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Not like there was more time to continue strolling down memory lane. Students are already packing their things in anticipation of the school bell's imminent ringing. Shouldering the guitar case reminds Fang of something she was meaning to ask if she ever got the courage to apologize to Anon before the week was over.
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"Hey, wanna come to music class later today and watch me play? I could use at least one supportive audience member." Her voice becomes quieter as she slightly twists in place while clutching the case's strap, "That is...if you're not too busy..."
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Anon's resolve is tested by Fang's pleading look. He doesn't even attempt to resist. The futility of such an endeavor is immediately apparent. All he can do is pray his spaghetti lockdown measures are up to the task.
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"Sure, I-I'd love to."
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A small smile graces the ptero's snoot, and her mood markedly improves. Lucky for Anon, the school bell distracts Fang long enough to avert a pasta tsunami. As the rest of their classmates push and shove in a vain attempt to get where they're going a few seconds faster, the duo decides to linger behind. Confident his metaphorical carbs are secure, the human speaks up.
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"So, is this a regular thing in music class?"
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None the wiser that the look she gave Anon moments before nearly caused the human to make a fool of himself, Fang considers for a moment.
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"Dunno. Everyone else just kind of sits there waiting out the clock. I think the teacher was just happy someone was paying attention for once."
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Enough impatient students have pushed through the narrow doorway, reducing congestion and restoring proper flow. Slowly the duo makes their way to the exit, not in any particular hurry to leave just yet.
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"Are you nervous?"
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"Maybe a little? Picked one of my favorite songs from The Skinks."
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"Oi, ya got a loicense ta play dat dere bit?"
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Fang's stifled snickers turn into full-on laughter.
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"AHAHAHHA, like your favorites are that much better."
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The human puts on a shit-eating grin, "My musical tastes are complex."
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"It's video game songs, isn't it?"
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"S-shut up."
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Losing track of time by bantering, the duo double times it to the next class, barely beating the ringing bell.
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Rock Bottom's lack of funding is most apparent in their music room. Spartan in appearance, the few instruments inside all well past their prime. Attendance was also lacking, with barely half the seats being filled. Whether because the school's student body just wasn't musically inclined or just the fact that there are far fewer students than at Volcano High, Fang wasn't sure. Setting up band equipment was usually Reed's job, but the ptero had a good enough grasp of the process to do it herself if necessary. All that was left to do was finish fiddling with the music room's amp, plug in the guitar, and wait for the go-ahead.
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The music teacher, a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length black hair, waited patiently for her pupil to get ready. Despite the new student being a dinosaur, she had no ill will towards their kind. She was just glad to have someone in class actually pay attention for once. Any musical skill was just the cherry on top. Maybe seeing one of their own play will rouse the rest from their apathy. Hell, if it makes her look forward to teaching music again, she'd count it as a victory.
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Preparations complete, Fang surveys the room to see if Anon kept his word. In the far back corner of the classroom, a human in a green jacket tries his best to appear invisible. The light's occasional flicker creates a strobe light effect as it reflects off of his bald head. Some of the ptero's nervousness is washed away when she spots him. It immediately returns with interest as the bell's din signals the start of class. Gently strumming the guitar's chords helps maintain the ptero's composure as she waits for everyone to get seated. Several minutes pass for everyone to settle down, most preferring to focus on their phones or each other rather than their classmate. The teacher gives the waiting musician a reassuring smile.
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"Whenever you're ready, Miss Aaran."
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One final adjustment of the guitar strap pinching her shoulder, and she was ready. At first, no one is paying much attention to the show. But as the song progresses, more and more students start paying attention. With practiced ease, the ptero hits all the notes and keeps the timing, her swinging tail acting as a built-in metronome. Even Anon, whose musical diet was little more than anime OSTs and rock songs accompanying video game trailers, enjoys the show. He doesn't know the song's name, but he's sure he heard it before. Fang performance sounded like the real thing, at least the guitar part. By the time the ptero was done, most of the class had tuned in to watch. With a final flourish, she finishes and strikes a little pose.
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Fang's pride in her performance quickly starts becoming eroded by doubt when no one reacts. Each second seems like an eternity as her initial smile begins to falter. Anon is the first to wake up from his stupor. Hell, he thought it was good, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to let it be known. His clapping rouses the rest of the students, some of them joining in, some still refusing to give the dinosaur on stage the time of day. At least they refrained from jeering. The teacher is more than pleased, finally someone with an ounce of potential.
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"You certainly have a knack for music, Miss Aaran. If anyone in this class has a musical future, it's you."
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"T-thank you."
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Unsure if this is real or all just a dream, Fang stands at the front of the class, tightly clutching the guitar as if it's the only thing anchoring her to the ground. It isn't until the teacher clears her throat and motions for Fang to return to her seat that the ptero remembers how to walk. Time flies by as the ptero is still enjoying the high of receiving praise for her performance. Further basking in glory is cut short by the school bell's metallic buzz, signaling the end of the day. Everyone else rushes for the exit, leaving Fang and Anon, slowly making their way to one of the side ones hoping to avoid the crowd. A wide smile is still plastered on Fang's face.
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"So, what did you think?"
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"You were great."
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Clutching the guitar cases' strap a little tighter, Fang moves to walk ever so slightly closer to Anon. Outside, the duo is greeted by a typical late autumn day. Despite it being afternoon, the weather has scarcely improved from the morning hours. Occasional gusts of wind still pierce through the Fang's scales and feathers, chilling her to the bone. The sun has lost most of its strength by this time of year, unable to warm the air in the brief moments it's not obstructed by gray clouds. The ptero lets out a long sigh as if a weight she didn't know she was carrying was lifted from her shoulders.
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"I'm just glad it went well. Shit, imagine if a string broke halfway through. Speaking of, you know where I can find a music store in this shithole of a town? No offense."
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"None taken."
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The human's brow furrows. Most specialist stores in Rock Bottom have gone bankrupt long ago.
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"There's one on Carter street. I think that one is still kicking."
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Flicking and tapping at her phone's screen, Fang turns one way and another, like a compass needle trapped inside an erratic magnetic field. When she settles, it's facing towards a bus stop or at least a heavily graffitied shack that someone taped a bus schedule on.
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"Shit, it's kinda far. Guess I can wait for the bus."
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Sharply sucking air through his teeth makes Anon's feeling on the idea abundantly clear.
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"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Unless you want to get harassed by hobos and breathe in the fragrance of au de piss the entire way. That is if the thing even bothers showing up."
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Vividly imagining what Anon had just described, the ptero can't help but shudder.
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"Fuck. Is it at least safe to walk, or is some crackhead gonna shank me?"
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"As long as it's daylight, you should be fine. Probably."
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Doubts about whether or not she really needs some extra strings and guitar picks start surfacing in the ptero's mind. The dead-serious expression on Anon's face isn't helping with things either. Fang holds a forced smile and starts nervously laughing, hoping the human would say sike at any moment. Perhaps Anon went overboard painting the picture of Rock Bottom. He wasn't lying, but it wasn't his intention to scare her that much either.
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"If you want, I could walk with you. Strength in numbers and all that."
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His words snap the ptero out of whatever nightmare scenario she was busy imagining.
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"Oh! I mean, if you want to. It would be nice having a guide."
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"Sure, I had no plan for today anyway."
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As they make their way towards their destination, Fang could have sworn she heard the human muttering under his breath multiple times. Dismissing it as her imagination or maybe a human thing, Fang pays it no mind.