Spider Webs - 12. Chapter 12: Let Loose

My eyes adored you
Though I never laid a hand on you,
My eyes adored you
Like a million miles away from me you couldn't see
How I adored you:
So close, so close and yet so far away

I let out a groan and folded my arms over my chest, feeling irritated. I had been in ‘rock choir’ for a week now, and I will freely admit that I had been tempted to skip, on more than one occasion, but Elizabeth had taken it into her head to set security on me. By that I mean she’d distributed the photo of my mug shot from when I had been arrested to every single security guard the school had; they had been given orders to drop me to the ground and sit on me if I tried to leave school before the day was over.

Carried your books from school,
Playing make-believe you're married to me:
You were fifth grade, I was sixth
When we came to be
Walking home every day over Barnegat Bridge and Bay,
Till we grew into the me and you
Who went our separate ways

That had occurred on Monday, because on Friday I’d figured out what ‘rock choir’ was all about and wanted nothing to do with it. On Tuesday, Elizabeth had figured out my schedule and where I hung out and started meeting me at the cafeteria or the auditorium, wherever I ate lunch at, and force-marched me to her classroom. She also met me at every single one of my other classes, along with Patrick, and force-marched us to our other classes as well.

My eyes adored you
Though I never laid a hand on you,
My eyes adored you
Like a million miles away from me you couldn't see
How I adored you:
So close, so close and yet so far

I personally thought she just missed my sharp wits and sarcasm. Patrick called it my emo-ness, something Ben had started first. Ben had stopped though when I threatened to prove just how emo I was by using razor blades on his wrists.

Headed for city lights,
Climbed the ladder up to fortune and fame,
I worked my fingers to the bone,
Made myself a name.
Funny, I seem to find that, no matter how the years unwind,
Still I reminisce about the girl I miss
And the love I left behind...

I’d found humor in that too, because I didn’t own any razor blades. I’d shaved last month and wasn’t due for another shave for at least another week.

My eyes adored you
Though I never laid a hand on you,
My eyes adored you
Like a million miles away from me you couldn't see
How I adored you:
So close, so close and yet so far

I was seriously considering buying some razor blades though, if the schmuck in front of me didn’t stop singing Frankie Valli and the Four Season’s ‘My eyes adored you’. No, they weren’t going to be used to shave with either. I was definitely contemplating cutting out Patrick’s tongue.

“Dude, why aren’t you playing?” I heard someone ask. I looked over and saw Reese leaning my way. I rolled my eyes at him and placed my hand in front of my crotch, jerked my arm up and down.

Someone snickered. I think it was Ben, who was sitting next to me.

“Only if I get to watch,” the same someone whispered a second later. Yup, it was Ben. Reese called him the horniest kid he knew, and considering half the crap that came out of Ben’s mouth, I kind of had to agree. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only who had serious issues with wanting to get laid. It was also a refreshing change of pace for me. I knew where I stood with Ben, and what he was thinking about. All the time.

Flesh, flesh and more flesh. Preferably nude.

Reese rolled his eyes as the music ended abruptly. “Is there a problem boys?” Elizabeth asked. I directed my attention to her. Patrick turned around, looked at me and groaned. Ben and Reese snickered, stood up and made their way to the back of the stage. Patrick joined them, along with Stacey and Lissa, and they all put their heads together. I decided to try and ignore whatever it was they were plotting. I’d get Patrick to tell me later, anyway.

Elizabeth didn’t even question what they were doing. She’d become used to my outbursts. In fact, everyone had, though I think I was starting to annoy some people.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I heard someone mutter. That someone turned out to be Derek, the jerk who had abandoned Reese and his ‘no-name’ band during rehearsals last week. I’d decided immediately that I didn’t like him, simply because he thought he was the greatest guitar player ever.

“Uh-hum,” Elizabeth cleared her throat and gave me a look that said she was still waiting for an answer. I rolled my eyes at her, but finally decided that she just didn’t know any better, so it was my job to tell her.

“Frankie Valli and the Four Season’s isn’t music,” I informed her, arms still crossed firmly over my chest; because I flat out refused to play this shit, “So can we please do something other than the ‘Jersey Boy’ Broadway?” I asked.

Elizabeth sighed, clearly not wanting to spend all class-period arguing with me over her choice of the musical they were going to put on this semester, as we had yesterday. And the day before yesterday. And perhaps the day before that one, too.

I was all for it, considering it was Friday and I had nothing better to do.

“Micah…” she groaned. Yup, she was definitely frustrated with me. “Fine, what do you want us to play?”

Huh. I frowned. She wasn’t supposed to give up this easily.

“Uh…anything but this. I mean serious, why can’t we play Def Leppard, Styx, Journey, not so much, uhm…Meat Loaf, Queen, AC/DC, Metallica, Guns N’ Roses…just…not this garbage.”

Okay, so I had a better term for the crap she was forcing us to play, but last time I’d cussed in her class she’d threatened to wash my mouth out with soap, and I kind of believed she’d actually do it, too. I had no desire to find out otherwise.

“You mean…something like ‘Rock of Ages’ Broadway?” she asked.

I nodded my head. I’d been listening to her soundtrack for that Broadway before going to bed lately. “Exactly, like that one.”

“Because, as I’ve told you before, we’re doing that one next semester,” she…well, whined.

“Why can’t we do it this semester and next semester, too?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on her. I felt like pushing the issue, because I was pretty sure she’d give in.

“Mrs. Windleton?” someone interrupted.

I groaned. Interruptions meant Elizabeth would have time to regroup, then she’d stick to her guns and I’d end up losing the argument, and I really didn’t want to lose this one. I’d already argued her out of doing Mamma Mia, Cats, Rent, and Phantom of the Opera. I was of the decided opinion that any one of those would have been preferable to Jersey Boy.

I found myself glaring at Ben. He grinned at me, appearing to take solace in the fact that Reese, Patrick and, to my dismay, Stacey and Lissa were over there encouraging him.

Although I did have to wonder why Patrick had just hung up his phone and slid it into his pocket. Phones weren’t allowed to be used while we were in school.

“Yes, Ben?” Elizabeth asked, hesitating. She was probably afraid Ben was going to ask her if she had a younger sister again, which would be weird, considering Ben was very obvious in the fact that he’d rather go for her younger brother. If she’d had a younger brother. I realized that I didn’t know if she had any brothers or sisters.

“We’ve decided, and by we, I mean me,” Patrick slapped Ben over the back of head. Ben cringed and decided not to push his luck, “that Micah doesn’t know how to have any fun. Therefore, we think you should let him out of the house tonight.”

Elizabeth looked confused.

I let out a groan. I should have known better. Ben had been pestering me all week to go out tonight. I’d kept telling him no, but he didn’t seem to know how to take no for an answer. He’d even come up with the opinion that I…

“I mean, going out and having fun might actually help dislodge the stick he has shoved up his ass; then we’d be able to get on with this and have an actual practice…” Ben offered, giving an angelic smile when Elizabeth glowered at him for swearing.

Half the class laughed. I glared at him even more, trying to decide the best way to kill him. I was pretty sure I didn’t have a stick up my ass.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Elizabeth agreed, “now can we please get on with the rehearsal?”

She glared at me when she said that, letting me know I was pushing it. I was opening my mouth to say something when a hand clamped over it. A swipe of my tongue let me know immediately that it was Patrick. He didn’t remove his hand.

“Will you please shut up? She agreed to let you; and by you, I mean you and Reese; go out tonight. Please don’t mess this up…” he whispered into my ear.

He didn’t let go either, just kept begging me until I finally nodded my head, agreeing to whatever scheme he, Reese, Ben, and the girls had planned out.

I had to ask though, “Why’s this going to be fun?”

Patrick let out a quiet snicker. “Because I’m pretty sure Ben isn’t planning on wearing any clothes before the night is over,” he informed me.

I rolled my eyes but, intrigued, nodded my head once more. “Okay,” I muttered. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

I heard Reese utter a softly hissed ‘Yes!’ and rolled my eyes.

I was pretty sure I could get Dr. Timmy to get me out of it. I’d be seeing him after school, since he was coming to pick me up.

That had been arranged via an argument with Ken, when I’d skipped my first therapy session because ‘I don’t know where anything is and it would be a lot easier if I had a car or something’. Timmy had sided with me when Ken relayed all this information to him. Ken had then informed me that Timmy would start picking me up after school from now on, on the days I had scheduled sessions with him. Yeah, I think I’m giving in to what other people want too easily.

---

Life definitely sucked.

“You mean you haven’t actually gone out and had fun with anyone your age since you’ve been here?” Timmy asked again, still sounding surprised.

I shook my head, “Nope. Pass me the red crayon, please,” I requested. That was another thing. He insisted that I say please and thank you during my therapy sessions.

“Then I think it’d be a great idea for you to go out and have fun,” he said after a few seconds. I looked up from the coloring book I was currently coloring in. I’d stolen it from some kid out in the waiting room, hoping to be told to leave and not come back.

Timmy had given the five year old a new coloring book and pointed me into his office, which is where we were.

“You’re joking, right?” I asked him. “Green crayon, please.”

“No. You’ve been here what…almost three weeks now? It’d be good to get out of the house; not feel so cooped up.”

“I’m not cooped up,” I informed him, “besides, what if Joel…”

“Joel will be fine. I’m telling you, you should go out and have fun…not be cooped up…”

“For the last time, I’m not cooped up!” I growled, exasperated. I ignored the look he shot me, pointed to the orange crayon. He passed it to me. “I mean, I get out of the house all the time.”

“Red crayon, please,” he asked for it. I gave it to him.

“How do you get out of the house?” he asked.

“I walk out the door like everyone else,” I informed him. He gave me a look that let me know I was being sarcastic and while he thought it was funny, he didn’t appreciate it. I gave him a look that said I wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. He should have been more specific, is all.

“I mean, where do you hang out when you’re not at the house? What do you like to do for fun?”

“Uhm...well… I go into the house in the backyard and I tear down walls and crap…and I go to school.” He looked at me, waiting patiently. I picked up the green crayon.

“Anything else?” he finally asked.

I shook my head.

“Okay, what’d you used to do for fun?” he asked. “Before you came to live here, I mean,” he clarified.

I frowned, thinking about that question. “Hrm…well, Joel and I would walk around in the woods a lot during the summer when I wasn’t working, play in the creek, catch toads and stuff, sometimes we’d even fish. We never caught anything though.”

He nodded.

“And before that, before your mom…”

I looked up at the clock. It was 4:32. I shut the coloring book and stood up, smiling at Timmy. He let out a sigh and stood up too, adjusting his khaki uniform. He was in the Navy too; that’s how he knew Ken.

I pointed to the psychology book I’d bought at the bookstore last week. “Next week it’s my turn to shrink you,” I informed him. Timmy nodded, looking as amused as he had the first time I’d come into the office and told him to lie down on the couch, all because I wanted to do the shrinking.

He stopped me before I could leave the office though. “Micah?”

I turned around. “Yes?”

“Did you know that when a person has an infection under the surface of their skin, doctor’s end up having to lance it, otherwise it won’t ever get better?” Timmy said.

I was confused, wondering what this had to do with anything.

“Uh…Okay?”

“What I’m saying is, sooner or later we’re going to have to pierce that wound that’s been festering for so long and discuss your father; and your mother,” he advised me, looking calm.

It took me a second to understand what he was trying to tell me, but when I did, I shook my head at him in denial. “What do they have to do with anger management?” I asked him.

He smiled at me, looking sad. “In your case, I suspect everything. You make sure you go out tonight and have fun. Let it all out.”

I was still shaking my head when I walked out of the office and downstairs. I was not surprised to see Patrick, or even Ken, sitting on the couch and watching TV. Patrick stood up and started walking my way.

The office we used was Ken’s office, located in the house. The waiting room was the living room. And the kid I’d stolen the coloring book from…

Patrick stopped me before I could get past him. I looked at him. Green eyes sparkled at me, his amusement so obvious it almost took my breath away. “Micah…”

“Hmm?” I hummed my question at him.

“Give my cousin back his coloring book,” he ordered.

I sighed; turned to the kid Patrick was babysitting, currently sandwiched between Joel and Reese and tossed the coloring book into his lap, on top of the other one. He looked up and smiled at me; his front teeth were missing. “Tattle-tale,” I growled. He stuck his tongue out at me.

Patrick grabbed my attention. “How was your not kill anyone session?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It was ok, I guess.”

He nodded, pulled my psychology book out of my hands and started up the stairs.

“Good luck with your not tell any more big fat lies session!” I hollered after him.

“It’ll be fine,” he hollered over his shoulder, “it’s my turn to do the shrinking.”

Copycat. I was heading toward the kitchen when he hollered, “And don’t feed Lestyn…” it came out sounding like Justin, “ …anymore sugar. His ma almost killed me last time because he wouldn’t fall asleep.”

“Ok,” I hollered back. I waited to hear the upstairs door close and looked at Lestyn again.

“Want some ice cream?” I asked. “I think we’ve got marshmallows and chocolate syrup still in there too…” Ken looked away from the TV and eyed me, amused. Reese snorted. Lestyn and Joel bounced off the couch and trailed after me into the dining room.

I was still scooping out ice cream when Ken and Reese came in and sat down with us. We decided to ignore the fact that we were ruining our dinner when Elizabeth came in and started hollering. She stopped though when I gave her a bowl. I guess you could say it was my way of apologizing for being a pain in her class, even if it was her fault for picking crappy musicals.

---

I had no idea where we were. We definitely weren’t in the woods, considering we’d driven to get here. But, as I said, I had no idea where ‘here’ was.

Patrick put the car in park and shut it off. I opened the door and turned around as the back passenger door opened, not happy as Joel popped out of the car, looking like a chipmunk with his cheeks puffed out like he was hoarding nuts in his excitement at getting to go to another high school party.

I turned and glared at Patrick. “Why’d you invite him, again?” I asked.

Patrick smirked. “I told you not to feed my cousin any sugar…and I’m sleeping with you tonight,” he informed me.

That last took me aback.

Reese snickered. Joel smacked me on the arm. “Lighten up, spoilsport. We’re here because you don’t know how to have fun. Don’t worry though, it’s easy. I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to have fun. I know how to have fun,” I growled.

“Sure you do,” he retorted. I ignored him and glared at Patrick’s back. He was walking away from me.

“And who said you could sleep with me?” I hollered.

“You did when my aunt told me I better be thinking twice before going to sleep in my own bed tonight,” he replied, still walking toward a massive three-story stone building. The design looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it.

We climbed up some steps and, after unlocking the doors, finally entered the building, proceeded to go up more steps and went through a set of thick wooden doors. At that point, I stopped in my tracks, not believing what I was seeing.

“Dude,” I whispered. My voice carried, letting me know how awesome the acoustics were.

I found myself getting excited for no good reason. Well, okay, I had a good reason. We were in an opera house.

“You’re so weird,” someone muttered behind me as Patrick turned and looked at me. He looked pleased with himself. The thought entered my mind that maybe I’d let him sleep with me tonight after all.

I stepped aside and Ben walked past me, followed by several people.

Apparently, Patrick wasn’t kidding about there being a party. The fact that several of the guys and girls following Ben were carrying instruments only made me drool a little bit more, until I got a good look around the place.

What I saw was a crime against music itself. The building was pretty old. That had been obvious from the moment I saw the place. But the disrepair and ruin it was in? I found myself shaking my head while examining the graffiti strewn along the walls.

Old chairs with holes in them, were strewn about or, as my eyes discovered upon seeing entire blank spots along the floor, had been taken out. Litter was everywhere, and it smelled vaguely like urine and other things I’d rather not think about, too.

“It needs some work,” Patrick murmured, “but I like it.”

Murmuring didn’t help. His voice carried.

“Uh…it’s…”

“Needs work,” Patrick said again, giving me a smile.

I could only nod, agreeing. “How’d you find this place?” I asked, lamely.

Patrick laughed at that. “My family owns it. Uncle Bryce wants to fix it up and turn it into a bar,” he said.

I shook my head. “Lucky bastards. So this is where you come to sacrifice all your virgins?”

Patrick slugged me in the arm. I let out a startled laugh. It was the first time he’d ever hit me.

“Virgin?” Ben hollered, turning around to look at us, “Whose a virgin? ‘Cause I can…”

Someone slapped him over the head. “Down, boy,” they commanded.

It was Tommie, one of the boys that liked to hang out in the auditorium during Reese’s band rehearsal. He’d even tried out for singing but decided to stick with dancing instead.

“Damn,” Ben muttered as he turned around and continued to help set up the equipment that had been brought in. “I was hoping it was Micah…”

I flushed, startled. You’d think I would have been used to Ben by now but the horny little bastard somehow managed to surprise me every time.

“We can hear you, you know…” Patrick growled aggressively. I could only stare at him, wondering what was going on with him. He was just full of surprises, tonight. I laughed, deciding that they were just playing around.

“So…what do you guys usually do?” I asked, uncomfortable.

“Play music…get slightly drunk…” someone said.

“Or a lot drunk…” someone else added.

“Sometimes so drunk some of us end up naked,” Ben tossed his two cents in.

“Usually Ben,” Reese threw out there.

“Definitely Ben,” Lissa agreed.

“I can’t help it. I hate wearing clothes,” Ben defended himself.

“We know,” everyone but me chorused. I burst into laughter.

“Come on,” Patrick murmured, gesturing for me to take the lead. I shook my head and let him lead the way instead, choosing to take a seat next to Joel when we got down to the front of the stage.

“Having fun?” Joel asked me.

“Yeah,” I signed back. Because I didn’t have to think about it to realize that I was having fun.

That was probably because the alcohol hadn’t started flowing yet.

The fact that alcohol was even there in the first place caused some trepidation to stir in the pit of my stomach.

I could only wonder what the night would bring as everyone who had arrived so far continued to help set up.

---

Rise above, gonna start the war! (Chorus) When I feel kinda bad and I don't want to stress
What you want, what you need, and what'd you come here for? I've got shackles on, my words are tied I just pass it off on ability
Well, an eye for an eye and an 'F' for fight Fear can make you compromise Well you got what you want, and what you never knew
They're taking me down as the prisoners riot With the lights turned up, it's hard to hide Perfect gift from me to you
Sometimes I want to disappear

Some kid was grooving on the stage, shaking his hips as he all but made out with the microphone. Apparently, the name of the game was musical roulette, the song selected at random by pulling sheets of music from a pile. There were two categories: Duets and solos. The group that played with the singer was selected by the singer. For each mistake made the group took a shot. For each song successfully completed: The group took a shot.

It was a stupid way of getting drunk if you asked me, but at least it looked like everyone was having fun.

Well, most everyone I saw was having fun, except for ‘The Five Compadres,’ otherwise known as Ben, Reese, Patrick, Stacie and Lissa. They didn’t look like they were having any fun at all. In fact, they hadn’t even been up on stage yet. But you’d probably think they weren’t having any fun either, if you saw them sitting off by themselves, not talking to anyone. Joel was over there too, mimicking the dance moves some boys named Tommie and Paul were teaching him. At least it looked like he was having fun.

“Why haven’t you guys gotten up there and played yet?” I asked as I approached Patrick. I sat down next to him because he was on the outside of the circle and I didn’t feel like climbing over any chairs. It wasn’t because he wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore. At least, that’s what I told myself, anyways.

“We won’t actually play unless we can get a singer to go put his name in that hat and challenge them…who will pick us to play with him…or her,” Reese replied.

Oh…

“So why don’t you guys get a singer?” I asked.

“Because most people,” Reese glared at Ben,” are too shy to actually get up there and sing…”

Ben shrugged. “What, I’m a dancer; not a singer,” he retorted.

“Who has no problem with running around naked through a crowd of people…”

“I hate clothes…”

Patrick just sat there, smiling as his friends continued to banter back and forth. I just rolled my eyes and found myself staring at the hat sitting on the stage.

There’d only been a few groups up so far. I guess most of the kids here were more content with dancing and talking to their friends then actually getting up there to perform. But I was getting kind of bored. It didn’t help that most of the ‘five compadres’ actually looked like they wanted to play. At least, that was the impression I was getting from Stacey, Lissa, and Reese as they kept eyeing the stage. Reese had even brought his guitar. Well, his new one. Elizabeth had gone out and bought him a left-handed guitar last weekend.

“Where are you going?” Patrick whispered as I got out of my chair. I just waved at him over my shoulder and moved up to the stage, quickly wrote down my name and threw it into the hat. I was back at Patrick’s side before I could think about what I’d just done. It looked like he was the only one who’d been paying attention to what I was doing. I just shrugged at the look he was giving me.

Then I proceeded to freak out, because while I could sing, I didn’t think I was that good. It was just something my music teacher had gotten me to do at my last school because she thought I needed to be involved in school activities. She had even given me private lessons over the school years. The only plus side to it had been the fact that it killed time while I waited for Joel to get out of school so I could walk home with him.

“Micah, you okay?” Patrick whispered. I nodded. I wanted to throw up.

“And we have a challenger!” someone announced.

The two compadres who were bickering stopped and turned their attention to the stage, along with the other three, not including myself.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s get ready to rrrrrruuummmmbbbbblllllle! For the very first time, weighing in at,” the would-be ring announcer stopped and looked at me, squinting… “Uhm… 150 pounds, give or take: appearing on this stage: I present to you, Mmmmiiicccccaaaahhh Rrrraaaiiinnnneeesss!”

I don’t know where it came from, but someone rang a bell when I got up on the stage.

I guess the fight was beginning. If only it were that easy. For kicks, I jumped up and down, rolling my head on my neck and punched at the air.

“Get your group, dude, and get on with it,” the previous singer shouted. “You’re killing the party.”

I rolled my eyes. “What’re you guys standing there for, let’s go,” I hollered at the five compadres.

Stacey and Lissa got up on stage with me, along with Ben and Patrick. Reese wasn’t moving. I stared at him. “Did you want to play or not?” I asked, confused.

“Oh, uh. Yeah,” he muttered, joining us on stage. But apparently, he was having some doubts.

“Are you sure you want me up here? I mean, I can…”

“Dude, you’ll be fine. Just chill,” I told him.

“Duet or solo?” Ben asked, looking at the pile.

I shrugged. “Pick one,” I told him.

The only instrument that looked like it needed filling was the bass guitar. I looked at it and shuddered.

“Uhm…anyone know any bass players?” I asked.

“I can do it,” Reese said, looking more confident all of a sudden, as he took off his new guitar and handed it to me.

“Here we go,” Ben said, handing out sheet music. Someone groaned. I was the last to get mine. Patrick was standing off to the side of the stage, looking like he was just there to offer encouragement.

I stared at the sheet music I had been handed. “Oh…we’re so gonna fail at this. The pitch for lead alone is gonna be rough,” Reese muttered.

“We’ll be fine. Let’s go Blondie, we’re doing a duet,” I said to Patrick.

“What? Why me?” He asked.

“‘Cause I know you can sing. You did on the beach and you have been in class. You’re not getting out of this, now c’mon…besides, payback’s a bitch, remember?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I was drunk on the beach, and I don’t remember doing anything to deserve this,” he replied as he stepped up to a microphone. He groaned when Ben handed him his part.

“This…”

I drowned out his objection and the rest of the noise emanating from the auditorium by running my hand down the fret board, striking notes. Patrick shut up and let me tune Reese’s guitar in peace.

“Alright Mr. Bowie,” I said, looking at Patrick. “You ready?”

Patrick looked doubtful but nodded his head.

“Everyone else ready?” I asked.

They nodded, still full of doubt about their abilities, I was guessing. It never occurred to me that they doubted my abilities. I just grinned at them, trying to be encouraging. Reese started playing first. I closed my eyes, listened intently to the oh-so familiar sounds of the bass strings rolling out the famous chords like a clarion call. I started playing on cue, barely even looking at the sheets of music, opened my mouth and began to sing. It was almost startling when Patrick joined me on his cue.

You said Newark, Newark is dangerous
cause you meet that way you met

Even a blind man can see what’s inside
love love love love
people on streets

Ah eh eh aaah

Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah
Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah
Why don’t we give all that one more chance
Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure
Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure Pressure

Pressure, pushing down on me
Pressing down on you, no man ask for
Under pressure, that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets

I laughed when the song ended. I couldn’t help it. It was the greatest song I had perhaps ever actually played, especially with someone singing beside me. Patrick was grinning from ear to ear as well. Mistakes, however, had been made, as I was promptly reminded when someone approached me with a shot glass filled to the rim with a red liquid.

I was shaking my head before he even got to me. “Forget it,” I told him, “I don’t drink.”

“What?” someone asked. I was too busy glaring at the ‘server’ to figure out who it was, but then again, I didn’t really care, either.

“I said I don’t drink.”

“He doesn’t drink,” someone mocked. “Would someone ask him why he doesn’t drink? Could it possibly be because he’s too good for our games, even though he’s willing to play those games, up until he actually has to drink? I think someone thinks he’s too good for us, after that performance.”

Reese told whoever it was to shut the hell up, but I was already looking at Mr. Attitude-problem. It turned out to be Derek, and he looked like he could barely walk.

“Don’t worry about it, Reese,” I mumbled. Looking at Derek I said, “I don’t drink because drinking, in my experience, can turn a person into a major asshole, much like you’re acting right now.”

“What’d you call me?”

“Asshole. I called you an asshole, because you’re acting like one.” I reiterated, pushing the issue.

“What’s he even doing here?” Reese hissed behind me. I didn’t know whom he was talking to.

Patrick took the shot glass that had been for me and swiftly swallowed its contents.

“There, his portion has been taken, now everyone shut up about it. Let’s just have fun, alright?”

I heard someone mutter a ‘fine’. I could only assume it was Derek, because I was still looking at Patrick. I didn’t need him to stick up for me.

“And for the bloody record,” Patrick suddenly hollered. “We don’t force anyone to drink if they don’t want too. If that’s a problem, you know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you in the bollocks on your way out.”

A couple of people snickered. Everyone who had looked like they had an issue with it let it drop.

These band geeks definitely weren’t like anything that I was used too, but then again, it looked like very few people were actually there that were in my class.

Patrick handed me a sheet of paper. We were up again, since no one had seen fit to challenge us. “I’ll sing this part,” he mumbled. “You sing this part. We need another piano player.”

“Uh. Okay. Who?” I asked.

Patrick nodded. “Yup. Get your little brother up here, he can assist Stacie,” he said.

I scowled, but the issue was taken out of my hands when Joel skipped onto the stage and went over to Stacie. She immediately started showing Joel what to do on another keyboard, pointing at certain parts on the sheet of music she gave him. I sighed and immediately started studying the music; fingering the parts I was unsure about it.

I gave the go ahead when I decided I was ready. “Don’t make any mistakes,” I warned everyone.

The music started, quietly at first, and Patrick started singing.

I'll hold your hand when you are feeling mad at me
Yeah when the monsters they won't go
The windows are closed
I'll pretend to see what you see

"How long?" I say, how long will you relive the things that are gone?
Oh yeah, The devil's on your back but I know you can shake him off

Patrick was staring at me, I realized. In fact, he was extremely close, and not just staring at me, but staring into my eyes. And dancing. He was definitely dancing. I shuddered, decided immediately that I didn’t like this song, and…shit, I missed my entrance. Ben covered for me.

And every day that you want to waste, that you want to waste, you can
And every day that you want to wake up, that you want to wake, you can
And every day that you want to change, that you want to change, yeah
I'll help you see it through 'cause I just really want to be with you

You know it's funny how freedom can make us feel contained
Yeah When the muscles in our legs aren't used to all the walking
I know if you could snap both your fingers that you'd escape with me
But in the meantime, I'll just wait here and listen to you when you speak... or scream

It was nerve-wracking, the way he was dancing, sweat rolling down the skin of his chest. He was so close I could smell him, smell the cinnamon on his breath. I didn’t miss my cue this time, joined my voice with Ben’s.

And every day that you want to waste, that you want to waste, you can
And every day that you want to wake up, that you want to wake, you can
And every day that you want to change, that you want to change, yeah
I'll help you see it through 'cause I just really want to be with you

A triumphant tolling of bells shook the stage then, startling me.

The truth cuts us and pulls us back up
And separates the things that look the same
Then you can fight it off, you can fight it off, you can

And every day that you want to waste, that you want to waste, you can
And every day that you want to wake up, that you want to wake, you can
And every day that you want to change, that you want to change, yeah
I'll help you see it through 'cause I just really want to be with you

Patrick’s green eyes were glittering with amusement, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Ben had shot glasses in his hand. Despite the fact that I’d said I didn’t drink he offered me one anyway. This time I took it, almost spit it out, but managed to swallow it.

It burned going down my throat. I felt like throwing up.

My face wrinkled up. “What is that shit?” I asked, coughing slightly.

Patrick laughed. “Take your clothes off,” he said. I gaped, startled.

“What? No!”

Patrick laughed even harder. “No no, that’s what we call it,” he explained. “Take your clothes off,” he said, again.

Oh. My cheeks felt warmer than usual.

“Usually you take it with salt and lime, though,” he added. I blinked. Salt and lime…

“It’s also known as tequila.”

Well shit.

---

Tequila.

Ben was on stage, music playing from a stereo that had come from somewhere, stripping. He was down to a pair of tight briefs when someone stopped him from removing them. He was currently doing some odd dance that I’d seen him practicing with a pair of balloons. We had stopped playing after 40 minutes. That had been an hour ago.

I could definitely see why they called it ‘Take your clothes off’. But that had probably been because people kept offering Joel shots. He would have taken them too, but I kept stealing them from whoever was offering them to him before he could get his greedy little hands on them.

I was pretty sure I was drunk, too. I was also pretty sure that my shirt was around here, somewhere.

“I can’t find my pants,” I informed Patrick, who I was presently leaning against.

He snickered. “You’re wearing them.”

Oh. I squinted. Sure enough, I was in fact wearing my pants.

“Here, drink this,” he said, offering me a glass.

“No more alcohol.” I think I was whining. I felt a little dizzy.

“It’s water. Need to get you hydrated so you don’t have much of a hangover in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get drunk off of puckers before,” he added.

“I don’t drink,” I whispered and then, to my horror, I giggled. I clamped my hands over my mouth, but couldn’t stop.

“Yup, you’re definitely drunk,” he smirked.

The lights decided to go out about then. The music was being turned off. I felt someone, I was pretty sure it was Patrick; tighten his arm around my waist. I think he kissed me, too. I’m not sure though, because he let me go almost immediately.

Probably because I’d said something about throwing up, just as the lights came back on.

Sure enough, I decided to throw up.

“Parties over, everyone go home. Those of you that are drunk and drove here know the routine by now. If you don’t know it, get someone to explain it to you!” someone hollered. I heard people groaning.

“Let’s go! You heard the man!” someone else hollered. This voice made me panic.

At least I would have, if I wasn’t too busy kneeling over the back of a chair throwing up into a bucket that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Bloody hell,” someone muttered. “How drunk did you get him?”

“He only had six shots,” Patrick replied.

“Of what? Rumplemints? No, that’s too red…”

“It’s watermelon pucker,” Patrick replied.

“Nyech. I’m never eating watermelon again.”

I stopped throwing up. “I can hear you, you know,” I whined, wiping at my mouth as I did so.

I leaned back and collapsed butt-first into the chair I’d been throwing up over. Avery, in full uniform, hand on his gun, was staring at me. I closed my eyes. “He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here,” I mumbled.

“I’m pretty sure I am here…”

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Nah Bach, probably a good thing you threw up: will lessen the hangover tomorrow.”

Bach…That was the second time someone had called me Bach, with the same thick accent.

I opened my eyes. Only it wasn’t Patrick’s granddad staring at me. It was some guy, looked to be in his late 20’s with a thick head of black hair.

“You okay to walk now?” Patrick asked.

I nodded.

Patrick helped me stand up as Reese and Joel found us.

“What time is it?” I asked, deciding to follow Patrick. I was also considering making a run for it, even though Avery had already seen me. But the four deputies standing up by the doors had me deciding pretty quick that I wasn’t going to get very far. I sighed, resigned to spending another night in jail. Because there was no way in hell I was going to let Ken come and get me. He probably knew about some two a.m. AA meeting.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Ten-thirty,” Avery replied, following us out the doors. We were the last ones to leave.

I came to stop long enough for the one guy calling me Bach to lock the doors. Not because Patrick had stopped walking. Nope, he was still walking like everything was normal. Though how a few kids crawling into a couple of sheriff’s cars was normal was beyond me.

“So…are we being arrested?” I finally asked.

The young man, who had joined us, let out a laugh. Avery gave me a grim smile. Patrick came back and held me up, because I was swaying on my feet.

“You’re such a lush,” Joel decided to say right about then.

“Wouldn’t have had to drink if you’d not kept getting offered drinks,” I retorted.

“Is that what happened tonight, Micah?” Avery asked. “People kept offering Joel drinks and, being the big-brother you are, you decided to protect him by drinking what he was offered instead?”

It took me a second to comprehend what Avery had just said, but when I did, I nodded my head, pointed a finger in the air and said, “Yup.”

Then I belched. It was totally gross.

Avery shook his head. “Micah, you can’t protect him forever, you know that right?”

“Nope,” I shook my head for emphasis. Avery just rolled his eyes at me.

“So…can you arrest me now?” I asked. “‘Cause I feel like going to bed.”

Avery rolled his eyes again. “No one’s under arrest,” he finally said.

I pointed to a sheriff’s car I’d seen Derek getting into. The back door was still open. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that that guy’s a dick…and he probably deserves to be arrested…stupid…”

Patrick snickered.

“He’s not being arrested. No one is. Those that are too drunk to drive or don’t have rides with a designated driver are being given rides home. Some of us volunteer on nights like these to play taxi for you teenagers. At least, we do when we know about these parties. Keeping drunken kids from driving is a priority for us, and this way, everyone’s happy. Parents don’t lose their kids, kids don’t lose their licenses, and no one goes to jail,” Avery stated.

Oh,…I looked at Patrick. “Are we riding in a sheriff’s car? ‘Cause the first time and the third time I didn’t have much fun,” I informed him. “Though the second time was alright,” I added.

“Why was the second time alright?” Avery asked.

“Cause Patrick saw me with a boner…and…and…he finally returned the favor.” I hiccupped.

Patrick blushed. Reese and Joel stared. Two other people laughed. The Bach guy and…Ben: still not wearing clothes!

“Hey Ben!” I grabbed him and hugged him, enjoying the warmth radiating off his sweat-soaked body. “You know, you can totally sing…you should sing with Reese’s group…”

Patrick pulled me away. Ben just kept laughing.

“…but if you don’t want to, I will,” I volunteered.

“You: clothes: now,” Bach guy ordered Ben. “You okay to drive, Patrick?”

Patrick shook his head. “Probably shouldn’t risk it. Can you take us home Uncle Bryce?”

The man nodded. I grinned. “Uncle Bryce!” I hugged him. “Hi, I’m…” hiccup. “Micah!”

He hugged me back. “Go get him buckled in, Patrick. Otherwise we might be here all night just so he can hug people.”

Patrick shrugged. “It’s a better mood than he’s usually in. Usually he’s all glowers, death threats and slugging people.”

I tried to hit him in the arm but missed. “Am not,” I retorted, instead.

“Yeah you…”

I glared at him.

“Whatever you say,” he said instead. More laughter from those around us. He grabbed my hand and led me to a nice looking ford explorer. I crawled into the back seat with little complaint. Reese got in the other side, after sliding his guitar into the cargo bay. Joel squeezed in and so did Ben.

I was now officially crushed into the door. Someone turned the vehicle on when I complained. I rolled the window down and popped my head out of it, grateful for the cool breeze blowing into my face.

“Hey Micah?” Reese asked quietly.

“Hmm?” I grunted.

“Did you mean what you said about singing for my band?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I moaned. That had me thinking a little bit. I popped my head back into the explorer and looked at him.

“Reese? Why are you trying to play the bass guitar and the electric guitar?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Bass guitar is slightly easier to pick up. Not much goes on with it…I wanted to learn the electric guitar because…because Joel said you play and…”

I nodded; even more uncomfortable now. “I’ll teach you,” I mumbled, closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Uncle Bryce must have started driving, because the breeze intensified. We dropped Ben, who was now fully clothed, off.

Everyone was still laughing, saying they’d had a good time and telling stories. I wasn’t telling any stories. I wasn’t laughing either. I’d suddenly realized what today’s date was.

My birthday was coming up.

I wanted more alcohol, I decided.

I fell asleep shortly after that, wondering if it would be a good idea to get totally shitfaced on my birthday.

---

 

Many thanks to my team and, of course, to you, my readers. Without you I wouldn't be here.

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Linxe