Date: Wed, 02 Jun 2004 13:43:51 +0000
From: Blake Hotchin <american_english_the_story@hotmail.com>
Subject: American English Part 1

Disclaimer: This story is in no way a suggestion of the sexuality of the
characters involved. Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and Warner
Brothers.  I am in no way connected to the cast of the Harry Potter movies
and/or Matchbox 20.  This story contains a FICTIONAL character from
Matchbox 20, and involves a homosexual relationship. If this is in any way
illegal where you live, or if you are underage, please do not continue
reading.


American English
Part I
Away For The Holidays


OK, so I'm not from the hottest part of the planet, but THIS is silly!

It had rained - non-stop - for two weeks, and I was beginning to get bored
with the ceaseless noise and incessant drum of rain against the window
panes. I knew England was renowned for it's crap weather and pouring rain,
but I was beginning to feel like a duck.

A very wet duck.

My name is Olliver Green, Olly to anyone close - and I play in a
band. Yeah, I know, an American guy in a band, touring in England, getting
hammered and trashing hotel rooms.  What d'you expect? I'm not like that
really. I'm quiet, shy and retiring, until I get on stage! Shot to
mega-stardom with a cool rock record, it was our first tour in England, or
anywhere outside the US, and I was psyched! But after all this rain and
cold, my fun was dropping, I had stopped being excited and worst of all, I
was 17. My 17th birthday, with no party or big celebration. I didn't care,
I hadn't expected anything.  My mom had sent over some clothes and the guys
had bought me a cool new set of drumsticks, and I sat with them, tapping
out a rhythm on the window sill, with a can of Coke beside me and a pen and
paper on my knee - trying to write a song and find my muse again.  Outside,
the thunder crashed and I could see the planes overhead queuing to land at
a nearby airport. Tomorrow we would be heading north, towards Scotland, to
begin our 7 week tour. So far it had all been promo crap, we had met a few
important English people, had tea with a cool set of guys called The
Darkness, and attended an awards ceremony in London.  Not bad for two weeks
work.

I put down my sticks, and stared out of the window. Far below me, I could
make out four people, three guys and a girl, getting out of a long white
stretch, and heading into the hotel. Looking out across the skyline I saw a
reflection of the digital clock by my bed in the window. 22.53. I slowly
finished my Coke, dropped the pen and paper, and made my way over to the
fridge in the corner of my room. Pulling out another Coke, I picked up a
book - the latest installment of JK Rowling's Harry Potter and flicked to
the first page.

Chapter One...

* * *

I woke later to the crash of thunder right outside my window. The french
doors that led to the balcony had blown open. Hurrying over to them, I
slammed them shut, struggling against the wind, and finally heaved the
heavy clasp down to fasten them.

Turning, I caught sight of myself in a mirror. About five feet eight inches
high, naturally jet black hair - always a mess - twinkling green eyes, and
strong arms from all the drumming, I was in pretty good shape for a 17 year
old. I look like a regular little Harry Potter, I joked to myself, minus
the specs and scar of course! I went back to the mini-fridge. No Coke left
- damn! I glanced over to the clock - 1.26. Good, the bar downstairs would
still be open. I checked my hair - still doing the wierd punk rock thing,
ran some wax through it and threw on a black hoody over my t-shirt. I
pulled on my battered sneakers and headed out of the door.

There was no-one in the elevator as it sauntered down to the ground floor.
It was one of those glass ones - like you see in malls and stuff - you
know, where you can look out over the foyer and see all the people milling
about? I was watching these two guys and this girl talking to this other
blond guy who had his back to me. His hair was so blond it was near white,
and it was scruffy like mine - but he'd styled it that way. I stepped out
of the elevator and headed across the floor towards the bar.

"Hey - isn't that Olliver Green?" I heard as I made my way past.  "Yeah I
think so... that Matchbox 20 drummer you think is gorgeous?" teased a
second voice.  "Hey!" came the indignant protest from the first voice - and
an entirely new - male - voice.  I turned. I had to. It was far too
intriguing. Sure as I thought, it was the little group of kids I had been
watching from the elevator. I carried on walking towards the bar.

Sat with my Coke, I watched the hands of an antique clock on the window
beside me tick round slowly, as out of the corner of my eye, I saw the four
kids saunter in. I was so sure I recognised them, but I couldn't think
why. It was really wierd. They sat a few tables away from me, and started
talking loudly. I pretended not to hear them, but it was difficult not to,
the amount of noise they were making. The girl stood up, and made her way
towards the toilet as I finished my drink, and I stood too. As I crossed
the bar, I passed her, and smiled. She gave a giggly little hello and I
carried on walking. I was so sure I knew her face...

* * *

I woke late in the morning, and quickly got showered then had my usual
morning dither over what to wear. I finally pulled on a pair of dark blue
denim cutoffs, with holes where I'd fallen off my skateboard numerous times
and a sleeveless black hoody (I'd ripped the sleeves off one day while I
was bored, and was actually quite pleased with the effect!). A black
sweatband for my wrist, a pair of battered black sneakers, and my black
drumsticks. I ran downstairs, colliding with this blond guy. Hurtling down
the corridor I shouted my apologies and caught up with my bandmates in the
foyer.

Half an hour later we were tuning up, well the guys were - you really can't
tune drums.  So I sat bored, on my own, tapping out rhythms to the songs on
the back of the seat in front of me. Our manager waltzed up, looking
especially pleased with himself. I cringed at his excess of happiness.

"Olly, I have a great surprise for you guys!" He looked like a banana
someone was gripping tightly, about to burst - you know, kinda jaundiced.
"What is it today Tommy?" He was well-known for his pathetic everyday
surprise.  "We have guests!" I thought I might have to punch him - just to
see what would happen.

It happens quite often, celebrity guests dropping in on rehearsal, to see
what goes on backstage, meet the band, have a chat. But we hardly knew any
English celebrities - except the ones who were back home in America.

I looked at Tommy as though his presence was polluting the air around
me. He got the message and went to surprise the other guys. I heard the
moans and insults start pouring out.

"Quite a guy isn't he?" The voice made me jump - it came from behind me, a
soft English voice. I turned quickly.  "What, Tommy?" I said, "Nah, not
really!" I laughed jokingly.

The guy came and sat down. It was the blond haired guy I had crashed into
in the corridor earlier, and now I realised, it was also the blond haired
guy from the foyer the night before. My mind raced, trying to think who he
was - I was sure I had seen him somewhere before. I leaned over, offering
my hand out.  "Hi, I'm Olly," I said.  "Tom," he replied.  "So, your our
surprise guest I guess!" I joked.  "Yeah," he started, "not just me
though. Daniel, Emma and Rupert too."  "Oh cool," I said, still wondering
who these four were.  Tommy came waltzing back over, happy as a clown (I
have a distinct phobia of clowns, clownaphobia or something. Anyway you get
the idea!), and grinning from ear to pierced ear.  "Aha! Olly, you've met
Tom I see! Tom and his friends are from the movie...  erm... sorry,
movies... Harry Potter!" He flourished his clipboard and pranced off,
whistling and calling out something about his macrobiotic sandwich. I
winced.  "Sorry about Tommy... he's a good manager, but he's a bit of a
girl!" I laughed.  "It's OK..." said Tom, "I work with Rupert over there!"
I smiled, looking at the ginger-haired boy talking to Tommy by the stage.
"So what's it like to work with a Weasley?"  "Work with him, Potter? You
think I'd work with that little weasle?" The Malfoy drawl hit me like an
iron hammer, and we both laughed.  "Hey, d'you fancy a Coke?" I said,
"There's a cafeteria round here someplace..."  "Yeah sure!" He said, and we
both got up and walked out towards the canteen.


To be continued...

Sorry, but I had to put in a "to be continued.."! Hope you're enjoying the
story, it took me a while to pluck up the courage to write it at all, but
I'd been sitting on something like it for a while, and just needed the
right characters to fit it. It's not really very long, but I decided on
using it as a bit of a taster, to test the water, rather than leaping into
it full blast. Sorry that there isn't any sex yet, but there will be!

Comments and suggestions are always welcome - just don't be mean! It would
be nice to hear from at least one person - just to know someone has read
it!

Contact me at: american_english_the_story@hotmail.com