She was underage, so she kept her head down and her arms full, blocking as much of her face and torso as possible with amplifiers, guitars, and drums as she went back and forth from the truck to the stage. She'd been told to keep her mouth shut and avoid eye contact; if anyone said anything to her she was to say as curtly as possible, "I'm with the band."
Last night she'd practiced exactly that; scowling, looking fierce, and growling out her one line. It had taken a few tries to get in character; even now she had difficulty hiding the grin that wanted to light up her face. Who'd have thought she'd have the nerve to do this? She was a roadie. Okay, not exactly a roadie, they'd only traveled a few miles from her home to get here, but she'd ridden in the back of the van, and she was unloading the band's equipment pretty much all by herself.
She ducked behind the largest amplifier and tried to look tough. "I'm with the band," she thought. "I'm really, really with the band."
© 2009 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
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