He could still remember the expressions of the four young musicians as they had listened to him play. Their mockery had stung and their eyes had been almost accusing. They had laughed at him.
Walking down the busy street that led him home, his white Fender in its case on his back, the only thing that Ed had to focus on was the abysmal interview that he had just failed.
Many were the people that passed him. Some smiled, some frowned, while some glared at him as though he had just raped their daughter. His carefully practiced expression of neutrality typically resulted in this range of returns.
The band that he had auditioned for were a group of three boys, all aged fourteen, who had been looking for a second guitarist for almost five months. Though admittedly two years their junior, Ed had turned up for the open call. He had said nothing, as usual, but had kept his attention entirely on his playing. He had pushed himself to the absolute limit, running through a hoard of original riffs before making up a solo on the spot. They had laughed at him.
The guitarist that they had eventually chosen, after criticising almost everything that Ed had done, had impressed them by playing the Blitzkreig Bop.
Silently seething with every step, Ed was quite surprised that the fake self that he presented to the world was holding. Inside, he felt beyond furious.
I'd like for these to be additions at the beginning of chapters, like when you talked briefly about how energized Ed feels when he pick up his fenders; it makes it fit in with the story better.
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