Our Spot

You know what, I hate it when old people tell me to turn my music down, that it’s scary, or when they call it the Devil’s music. So fucking what? It’s my car and these are my ears. Quit fucking listening, you pretentious hypocrites. So, like, you’re old and that gives you a right to run the world and control everything? I guess when you were kids, they didn’t even have speakers to bump shit on, huh? Is that the issue? You’re just too fucking old and now you can’t do anything fun so you need to try and stop the kids who can? Well fuck, be a prick then. I’ll turn down my music when you can tell me how that stick got so far up your ass, because that there...that impresses me.

It’s possible that I didn’t say any of that, but I got detention for a month for blaring my music on school grounds again and my friends needed a story. I mean most of that happened, well like a small part of it did. Weeeell it was more like Mr. Shithead told me to turn it down and I said “no”, but then I did it anyway. Nobody ever needs to know the whole truth. That’s like my motto: Lie until you’re trapped, then blame it on someone else. I’m gonna get it tattooed on my body when I turn eighteen, somewhere visible. Man I’m gonna be rad when I’m older, not like Mr. Shithead. Dude’s got problems. Who the hell just wakes up and decides to be a fucking high school principal? Ha, not me! I’m not even gonna have a real job once my band takes off. All I gotta do is find a lead guitarist, and a bass player, oh, a drummer, plus I need a new set of strings and an amp, microphone...oh and I gotta work on my singing. Otherwise, I’m ready to get started. I have like half of a song written and a name, but I might change it cuz my mom gets mad and yells at me when I say “Ass Pandas”. See? Old people get sensitive about some dumb shit.

After detention that day, I drove home knowing I was gonna get screamed at because I didn’t have minutes on my Tracfone and I couldn’t call my mom and say I would be late. Make fun all you want, but my mom is always angry about something. Mostly, it was because my dad always came home late smelling like booze, but sometimes it would just be something small like I didn’t do the dishes or I won’t cut my hair or “Why, Travis, do you wear fucking eyeliner?”. Let me be me, mom, just shut up for once.

As I pulled up, there were no other cars in the driveway. Dad wasn’t home and mom was gone. How did I get so lucky?

I unlocked the door and went straight to the freezer for my favorite after school snack: Hot Pockets. Three minutes in the microwave and then on to deliciousville. Forty seconds left and I see her car pulling in and all I could think was, “Shit, shit, hurry up microwave!”.

My mom burst through the door with the intensity of The Hulk, yelling incoherent nonsense and trying to grab my shirt. I ripped the Hot Pocket from the microwave and tried to run, but the death grip my mom had on me was too strong. I was never one to hit anyone, much less my mom, but in that moment, I think something in me snapped. I smacked her right in the eye with that pocket of baked pizza and she immediately let me go. I ran to my room and closed the door, which I secured by jamming a chair under the doorknob as a makeshift lock.

Within seconds, my mom was pounding at the door, screaming and cursing. What could’ve happened that made her like this? It sounds fucked up to say now, but there’s a good chance all of these dramatics have nothing to do with me.

I backed from the door slowly, attempting to coerce my brain into revealing my next move, but it was blank. It was clouded by fear, but this is nothing new. My mom and her rage were a better couple than my mom and dad. The only difference was the she knew her rage so well, and my dad, not so much. They grew apart, distant and detached. Yeah, my dad was a drunk, but at least he was a stand up dude. At least he still had a heart.

And then I saw his red pickup coming down the street. He was home, and once he came through the door, the attention of the fucking monster would go to him. Sorry dad, but I’m sacrificing you this time. I need to get away for a while.

The yelling grew further away as she turned on him, and innocent bystander in all of this, but it was his turn, and that’s how it always is.

I walked to my window and opened it, making sure the chains hanging from my Tripp pants were clear before I jumped. Don’t worry, it was only like five feet off the ground. I’ve made that jump plenty of times.

My feet hit the ground and I ran. You know, some jeans are easy to run in, but Tripp pants, not so much. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway. I didn’t have time to change AND fight off the dragon of Myhouseshire.

There were these electrical power boxes that were on the furthest parts of the property I liked to sit on when I needed some space. I pulled my Discman out of one of the massive side pockets on my pants and untangled the headphones, pulling them over my ears and then I opened it up to see what I was listening to last. The Used...eh, I guess it’ll have to do. Close the lid, press play, LOW BATTERY, off. Fuck. Why do I not carry spare batteries?

I searched the other massive pocket for the cigarette and matches I had stolen from my mom. I didn’t smoke enough to get addicted, just mostly to look cool in front of people at school. Right now, I felt I needed it. Life at home was fucking dumb and I was so sick of my mom’s immature bullshit. I couldn’t wait to move out and never come back.

I found the cigarette broken and wrapped around a Tech Deck wheel. Fucking perfect. I balled the cigarette up and threw it as far as I could, which in the wind was like two feet in front of me.

“I can tell there’s a lot of hormonal rage over here, and I want to feel bad, but this is my spot, so go back to your Goth Cave, freak.”

“How about you shut your fucking mouth, huh? How about I was here first and I ain’t got time for your Malibu Barbie looking bitch face right now.”

“Dude, chill. If you’re going to curse and insult people, you should probably practice so you can get taken seriously. You’re trying to be serious, right?”

“Just leave me alone. Go back to Perfect World and ride your golden horses and wear your solid gold panties and eat real fucking Lucky Charms. Name brand, bitch, that’s you! I’m fucking Malt-O-Meal!”

“I can see I caught you on your period and I’m really not sure what you’re trying to say, so I’m gonna bounce. I just usually come here when my parents fight and I really don’t have anywhere else to go right now. And by the way, don’t imagine me in my underwear, or what color they might be.”

“My parents are fighting, too. Sorry for being a dick, I just don’t always know what to do in times like this. I have 3 true friends and they’re all grounded from the phone right now, so I can’t call them. I have nobody else to talk to, so I’m just not good with social interaction or someone being nice to me.”

“Your friends aren’t nice to you?”

“They’re grounded because they slingshotted a rock and hit me in the eye when I was gonna hit this sweet jump with my skateboard.”

“They don’t sound like good friends.”

“Well I’d rather have asshole friends than none at all.”

“This is weird for me, but I get it, I understand. I can relate to your problem, and that’s insane, because you’re, well, you’re...”

“Emo. That’s the word for it.”

“What do your parents think of all this?”

“Why do you think I’m able to dress like this? Does it look like they’re very involved?”

“I’m Brittany. I’m giving you my name so you know that I want to consider you a friend. I WANT to, let’s see where this goes.”

“Travis. Okay. Can I call you?”

“Not this week. I’m grounded for selling three morons a slingshot. I’ve gotta go, see you at school!”

I went back home then with an actual smile on my face. My window was a breeze to hop through, I moved the chair and opened my door. My parents must’ve been in their bedroom because the door was closed.

I thought about what I was going to wear tomorrow and how I could start to impress Brittany. In all of my sixteen years, no girl had ever given me attention like that except for Samantha Wells in second grade and she gave me my first non-mom hug and then made me cry. Samantha grew up and...filled out...and now I hear she spends most of her time on her back. Shit, now I’m thinking about Samantha naked...be right back.

“Dude, she’s a prep. You don’t mix with them kinds!”

That was Billy. We were sitting together at our lunch table, the same one we’ve sat in every day this year, which is less like a table and more like a group of chairs thrown to the side that we arrange LIKE a table to eat at. The strange thing I forgot to mention is that my three friends are triplets and they do everything together, like best friends who are real life brothers.

“Yeah, and besides, if you get to know her better, you might see her boobs! Do you really want that?”

Meet Bob. They say that about one out of every four people are most likely gay, or something related to liking the same sex. The only one of the four of us that doesn’t already know Bob is gay is Bob, but we’re scared to tell him.

“What my brother is trying to say is: don’t cross over to the light side, bro. Look, frankly, I’m already embarrassed to know you. Okay, none of us has said anything, but what the fuck are you wearing?”

Thornton was the smarter of the three, but that’s not really saying much. He had better insight to stuff, and cool ideas when it comes to adventures and getting into trouble, but he cares way too much what people think sometimes.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I didn’t know you owned anything that wasn’t black and covered in blood and shit, and then you walk up in this bitch wearing a bright ass yellow Spongebob shirt with no fucking eyeliner?” Thornton is comically critical at times. “If I look at your ass, will I see an American Eagle? And...yeah that’s what I thought...where the fuck did you get Nike Shox? Do you have a secret life I don’t know about? Are you gay, too? Sorry Bob, no offense.”

“What do you mean?” One day Bob, you’ll get it.

“Look”, I said, “if I can get Brittany to love me, then maybe I can erase the line between who we should and shouldn’t hang out with. Like West Side Story, except this isn’t like a gang thing.”

“Did you see West Side Story?” Asked Billy.

“No, but the VHS at the house has a wicked metal casing that I can do these gnarly kickflip crooks with my Tech Deck on. I’ve just read the back of the cover.”

“Travis. This is Thornton speaking. You know I know everything. Be very fucking careful about the broken glass you’re walking on. We all have reps to hold up, too.”

“So what, if me and Brittany become a thing, you guys are just what, a casualty of society?”

“Guilty by association, bro, don’t fuck around with the code.”

I got slightly lucky that the triplets had classes the opposite way as me after lunch, because I saw a new flyer on the bulletin board that I knew they would see too, but for now I got to see it alone. I was glad for that.

WEEKEND LOCK-IN AT THE ROUND-A-BOUT NEAR 71ST HIGH!!! CHAPERONES NEEDED!!! INQUIRE AT FRONT DESK!!!

I wondered if there would be any chance Brittany would be interested? No time to get to the front deck right now, but later, during detention...oh that would be perfect! My friends would be gone then. Why do I even care what they think anyway? They’re pretty shitty friends and I’m pretty sure I kept them just around so I wouldn’t be totally alone. Maybe making a new friend would be just what I needed. A real friend. A (girl)friend.

But then I passed her and her posse of popularity walking in slow motion. We locked eyes for a second and then she flipped her hair and looked intentionally away from me. Then they all started laughing and I felt low. Thornton was right, as always. Brittany and I just didn’t belong together. Who was I to think it would be okay to try and mix clashing cliques? She was the beauty and I was the freak.

And yet, here I was before afternoon detention walking to the front desk to sign my name. If anything, it would be a weekend away from my parents. You can call it being rebellious, but I call it freedom. Freedom, yes, until I noticed eight other names on the list. Brittany’s was third among four of her friends, and the remaining three were Billy, Bob, and Thornton. Fuck my life.

“Sign it, Travis.” Thornton’s voice was very recognizable, even in a crowd.

“I will, and I’ll prove to you and everyone that this can happen.”

“Stay in denial, kid. She is going to break your heart and I’m going to be there to laugh at every single second of it.”

“You’re not a great friend, you know that?”

“Yes, but I’m all you have in this ocean.”

“A shark is my best friend and I’ve been bleeding out for a while now. Perfect.”

I have this understanding with the teacher that runs detention that makes it bearable to talk to him. When the batteries in my CD player are dead, I bring him a bag of chips and he gives me new ones. Most of the time I get detention, I’m usually alone, so I just jam out and draw pictures. Today I dropped the chips on the desk, but Mr. Locklear didn’t trade me right away.

“Travis”, he started, “What do you want out of your life?”

“Look, it’s been a hard couple of days and I just bought Green Day’s new album, so please, no lecture today.”

“Hey, I’m not lecturing you, but Principal Simpson has some academic concerns and he knows you open up to me.”

“Principal Shithead needs to mind his own fucking business.”

“You know, he knows you call him that. It doesn’t help your case any. Look, do me a favor, and I mean just for me. Write me an essay while you’re rocking out in the corner.”

“Okay. But only for you.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up? As much as you want to write, no minimum.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Nope. Let me pick your brain in one page or less. Now, is that the album that has that new ‘Boulevard’ song on it?”

“Yeah, ‘American Idiot’. Just came out today, got it before school.”

“Cool. Oh and one more thing: yellow is not your color.”

I chuckled as I walked away. Old people always try and stay relevant, but Mr. Locklear isn’t so bad.

I stared at the piece of loose leaf paper for nearly the entire detention period as song after song flew by in my headphones. I was this St. Jimmy guy, this Jesus of Suburbia. I could relate so well and as the album closed, I was almost in tears. So amazing, so sad.

I write down four sentences on the blank page, pulled off my headphones, and gathered up my stuff. I didn’t say one thing as I headed up to Mr. Locklear’s desk and placed my essay face down. Then I turned and walked toward the door.

I heard him pick up the paper and I wished I could’ve seen his face, but I left that to the imagination.

AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. THIS IS HOW I’M SUPPOSED TO BE. IN A LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE. THAT DON’T BELIEVE IN ME.

They were lyrics to the second song on American Idiot and they spoke so well to me. Fuck everyone else. I like me, I like who I am. I don’t need to change for anyone. Not even...who the fuck is sitting on my car?! Wait, I recognize that hair..

“Brittany? What are you doing?”

Tears had streaked her face with mascara and made her eyes look red and swollen.

“I didn’t know who else to talk to. I’m tired of running from everything, I’m tired of being who my friends and my family want me to be. I want to drink and smoke and get a fucking B on a test for once! I want to be carefree like you.”

“Hey, I’m not care free. It’s almost like I care too much, and you’re too pretty for this. You don’t deserve all of this weight on your shoulders.”

“Thanks, but you don’t even know me that well.”

“Tell you what. Drive around with me and listen to this CD for one hour and I promise you’ll see how well we can relate to one another.”

“Okay, one hour. If it takes any longer, you might need to buy me dinner.”

“I can manage that.”

And she did, she found the vibe, and I could see the look on her face was torn with emotion and as I pulled into the McDonald’s drive through, the last track ended and she didn’t say anything except for what she wanted to order. I drove us back to our neighborhood with no music on, but we were laughing and telling life stories and throwing fries at each other. In that moment, I didn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, just a girl friend, and I realized that the beauty can fit in with the freak.

I pulled into her driveway to drop her off and started to open my door.

“You can’t come in, I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

“I was just going to come around and open the door for you.”

She was shocked at my response.

“Oh, well hold on. Trade me.”

“Trade you what?”

“I want to burn a copy of American Idiot or my computer and I wanted to share an album I love with you.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a CD with an astronaut on the cover.

“Brand New? I don’t listen to rap though.”

“Neither do I.”

We traded CDs and I opened her door and got back in the car to go home. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed neither of my parents were home again. I had began to anticipate another rage tonight, but as I went to the freezer for a Hot Pocket, I saw the note.

“Had to have your mom hospitalized due to her depression so she can get adjusted to a new medication. I’ll be home tomorrow, but you’re on your own tonight kiddo. Love, Dad”

I felt bad, but at least the stereo was mine for this lonely Friday night. Let’s find out who Brand New really are.

I couldn’t believe I had missed out on this. Such talent, such amazing words.

Made me really wonder what else this girl was hiding in fear of damaging her reputation.

Herself was the answer to that. She was hiding, all day at school on Monday. Not once did I catch a glimpse of her, but I saw her posse, and this time, they didn’t laugh. They looked at me and smiled, if only briefly.

Today, I was back in black with a fitting AC/DC shirt on. After my time with Brittany last night, I just had no fear about being me, because I like me. I think I said that already, but still, it didn’t matter what I wore or what people thought of me! I’m the king of my own castle!

And then, just after the last bell, before my day in detention, I was dethroned.

There, in the Makeout Nook of the back hallway was Thornton, doing what the hallway was named for, with Brittany.

Things like these are the reason I’ll continue to remind myself that my life blows big fucking donkey dick. I think the last time I felt like this was when my Lucky Charms promised me an exclusive rare Pokémon card and there was nothing in the box or the cereal. As much as I want to be an Ash Ketchum, I’ll always run into another Gary Fucking Oak.

I walked right through the hallway and pulled them apart, and then I punched Thornton as hard as I could in the face, and after that I grabbed Brittany in my arms and I kissed her and everybody cheered and for once I was the hero!

But that didn’t happen, as usual. And also as usual, I saw what I saw and went straight to detention without even looking back, although I did stop at the desk first to remove my name from the chaperone list.

“What do you mean it’s been submitted? Get it back!”

“Well I can’t. You signed up and you better be there.”

What good is this school anyway? You people act like you want to help, but really you just want to suffer.

I dropped the chips onto Mr. Locklear’s desk and he picked them up and dropped them into a drawer.

“Dude, what gives?”

“No more batteries until you can give me one shred of proof that you care about your future. I’m a teacher and it’s my job. You’re lucky I didn’t hand this to Mr. Simpson.”

“Well if you’re such a great teacher, then teach me something! Tell me why any of this matters!”

“Because you won’t be in high school forever. Your life will get better. Just give it a chance.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Do your part and be a kid right now, but give it some thought.”

Mr. Locklear pulled two AA batteries from his drawer and placed them on the desk. I grabbed them and went to a desk in the front this time, pulled out a notebook and a pencil, and started to write, and I wrote for an entire hour without my headphones on and realized I covered almost three pages of writing. Wordlessly, again, I put the essay on Mr. Locklear’s desk and left.

Mom still wasn’t home, and dad left another note about being out late. I was angry! I was just so fed up with my life and how things were turning out. I wished this was all a dream I could escape from. Music was my only escape. I wanted to be like the guys in all my favorite bands. I wanted to forget school and this dumb ass town. I wanted all of this to go away.

But this isn’t a movie. This is real, and it’s much scarier than any movie I’ve ever seen.

Suddenly, an idea came over me.

I picked up my guitar and played a few chords, wrote a few words and pressed RECORD on my computer. Then I burned that recording and eleven other “Love/Hate” songs to a blank disc, placed it in a Ziplock bag, and walked to the power boxes, where I left the mixtape with Brittany’s name on it. She’d find it. No one else goes over there.

I skipped first period and most of second because I didn’t feel like learning. I ate lunch by myself while my old friends laughed it up with the popular kids and while Thornton had his hands all over Brittany, and she just let him. I told my third period teacher not to ask me a question because he should be telling me the answer instead of asking me what it is. He said that was how I learn, to answer questions. I told him he should learn Deez Nutz. That part was an accident, but I was awarded extra detention. There was a substitute in forth period, so I excused myself to the bathroom and never went back. The only class I was excited for was detention, and I feel like that’s pretty fucking sad.

“I feel like you should pursue a career in writing.”

“What kind of bullshit is that? I wrote about becoming a rockstar and snorting coke off of a groupies tit. I wrote shit that was on my mind so you would be worried about me and get me transferred to a school where I don’t have to deal with my fucking best friend going after the one fucking girl I’ve ever liked!”

“Yes, but you wrote it well. I was a teenager once, and I was rebellious, but I overcame it and did something with my life. I’m not worried about you, but seriously, your spelling and grammar are nearly perfect. You used correct punctuation and sentence structure. Where did you learn the write like that?”

“I don’t know, like, I used to read a lot.”

“Used to? What happened?”

“I ran out of stuff to read.”

“You read all of the books at home?”

“No, we never had books. We couldn’t afford wallpaper a few years ago so my parents glued old newspapers to my wall. I would get grounded a lot and read or I’d just want to get away from my mom, so I’d lock myself in my room and read. But then I read all of it.”

“Travis. Now I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. That’s how it always is. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’m comfortable with it because I know how to deal with it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried.”

I could’ve run. I could’ve left like I always do, but I stayed and talked, and then the school guidance counselor came in and we talked more. My detention was almost two hours long and when I left, I felt numb.

I drove home in silence, and I was playing with my long hair. I used to like my hair, but now it had become a nuisance. My dad left no note this time, but I knew. He always wrote that he’d be home late, but he never made it. There was dust collecting on my parent’s unused bedroom doorknob. I think I started crying, and I’m pretty sure I yelled out for no reason, but I broke the door down and started throwing all of their things around, stripped their bed and broke one of their lamps. The rage was at the surface and I couldn’t stop it. I went into their bathroom to shatter their glass shower door, but got distracted by my dad’s nice set of beard trimmers. I looked in the mirror at the black streaks of cheap eyeliner on my cheeks, and told my reflection that I was worthless. Then, I grabbed the beard trimmer and shaved my head. I pressed play on the radio in the bathroom and there was a CD in it that was interestingly set to the perfect song for this moment. As if taking a mental picture, I memorized every detail and allowed Papa Roach to cut my life into pieces.

I had a brand new attitude heading into school the next morning. I felt better, almost happier. I no longer cared about the cliques or about my old friends. I could make new friends who wanted to be around me, who liked what I liked, who I had something concrete in common with. I wasn’t looking, but I was available. And you know what? Brittany didn’t even notice me when I walked by.

“Travis! What the fuck is your problem?”

Oh, maybe she did. She broke away from cloud surrounding all of the the separated cliques and she came to my territory. Nobody was even watching. But she did shove me into the girl’s bathroom.

“Hey what are you doing?”

“You”, Brittany pointed to some innocent bystander doing her make up, “get out, and anyone else in here, out now!”

“But I’m not done in here.” Poor girl.

“Then wipe and get out!”

So she did, and she didn’t look happy.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What is this?”

“I made you a mixtape.”

“Yeah called ‘I Hate That I Love You’. What is this?”

“Look, I was mad, okay? I’m sorry.”

“You desegregated our spot with this. Now there’s tension? Why, because I opened up to you and then ignored you? Well it was awkward for me! I was afraid of you saying something to someone!”

“Well...I was more mad that you made out with Thornton.”

“Your geeky friend? Who told you that?”

“I saw it with my own eyes!”

“You did, huh? You saw her whole face? And she looked exactly like me?”

“Well she was blonde and...”

“So every blonde bitch in a miniskirt is me?”

“It really wasn’t you?”

“No, that girl is actually a friend of mine. Your friends are really nice and we’ve been avoiding you for a reason. Who’s birthday is coming up?”

“I don’t know..yours?”

“Yours! You dick! We’ve been planning something special for you since we’re all going to be chaperoning this weekend. Thornton and his idiot brothers can’t keep secrets and I didn’t want to let it out either! You horse’s ass. Fuck!”

Brittany started to leave and I didn’t know what to do, but I was in the girl’s bathroom so I followed her. Then she said,

“That song you wrote and recorded was actually pretty good. Even given the circumstances, for what it’s worth to you.”

Then she was gone and I was depressed again. I had to make it right, but I don’t know how to be romantic, or cute. I just know how to fuck up everything.

The rest of the day was a blur. I couldn’t focus on anything but Brittany and her words. I was hoping for some more talking with Mr. Locklear during detention, and I did get some, but it scared the living shit out of me.

“Okay, explain this again as if I were a small child named Lamen.”

“Mr. Burner and I did some research”, started Mr. Locklear, “and discovered that your mother was committed to the state hospital and has no further release date, and that also, even upon her release, she is not a fit candidate to be a parent. Your father was placed in jail two nights ago on a few very serious charges and may never be released. You’re still a minor, and we need to place you somewhere with someone that can look after you. You have a few days to get some things together and on Sunday evening, after the Lock-In at the skating rink, you’ll be taken to your new home. Tomorrow and Friday will be considered excused absences, and you will resume classes on Monday.”

“So I just have no parents now?”

“You’ll have guardians, and they’re nice people.”

“Will they try to change me?”

Mr. Locklear looked at me with sincerity.

“I promise you they won’t. And as an added bonus, your detentions are cleared, but your behavior better improve. This is your new beginning, okay?”

“But without detention, how can I talk to you?”

“I’ll still be around. Now get out of here. Go do something fun!”

Fun like what? Pack my shit?

I took a really long walk listening to Brittany’s Brand New CD on my Discman in the woods that night with a flashlight. In all the years I grew up here, I’d never been fully down the path because I was scared of bears and stuff, but turns out, they don’t live this close to town. I was never afraid of the dark, though. In a way, I always saw nighttime as a new adventure, a cleansing of sorts. It was so peaceful.

The album ended and I knew I loved it more the second time. As I pulled off my headphones, I realized I had come to a clearing and in the center of the clearing was some sort of a shrine. There was a podium, overgrown with vines, and a bench in front of it. A pew really. I turned my flashlight off to bathe in the natural beauty of the scenery and not a moment later, a moonbeam shown through the clouds and fell on the podium. Nobody had touched this in years and it all felt like a familiar anecdote my dad once said.

“Even in the darkest nights, there will always be light. As bad as things may be, there’s always a way to overcome anything. When you hit rock bottom, will you wallow in sorrow sitting on the rocks, or will you use them to build a ladder to climb your way out?”

He wrote it in a Good Luck card and gave it to me on my first day of high school. My dad was always the better parent, but maybe I wasn’t always the best son.

Then, I realized it wasn’t a bright moonbeam, but the sun rising. I had been out all night and didn’t realize it, but I decided to stay right here and watch the sunrise, and to see what this place looked like in the daytime.

And let me just say, it was worth the wait. I don’t know what this place was used for, or how old it was, but this was my new happy place. This place was the definition of peace. I didn’t really want to leave, but I had work to do. I knew I could always come back.

The first chore on my agenda was actually going to sleep. That adventure exhausted me.

I slept until two that afternoon and made a Hot Pocket and found a beer in the fridge. Hot Pockets taste better with beer, but honestly, beer tastes better the more I drank it. I think I had three and then got the idea to make a love mixtape for Brittany. Just songs that made me think of her. I didn’t really plan on giving it to her, but I did need to give her her Brand New album back.

I added so many songs that I need to take a few off and that was hard. 80 minutes runtime on burned CDs seemed like it was too short, but it was the last one I had, so I had to find the ones that I didn’t necessarily need, and that was like the hardest decision of my life.

I was drinking a fourth beer when I heard a knock at the door. The CD had just finished burning and popped out of the CPU disk drive. I went to the door to find Brittany there.

“Oh, hey. Come on in. Sorry, I’ve been drinking.”

“I can smell it, but it’s cool. I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m doing good, considering...everything. My parents aren’t coming back, so I have to pack all of my stuff and move to some stranger’s house. I’m still going to the skating rink tomorrow night, so we can still have some fun. I am really sorry for ruining your surprise.”

“It’s okay. Look, if you want, we can still do something tomorrow for your birthday. Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

“Id like that. Oh wait, I have your Brand New CD. Let me get it.”

I went to my room and grabbed the CD case, and then to the computer to grab the disc. Then I handed it to Brittany and she gave me the biggest hug. It seemed like it lasted forever and I didn’t want to let her go.

“I’m always here for you, Travis. I hope you know that.”

“I do now. Thanks.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out American Idiot and traded CDs with me.

“Well, would you like some help packing?”

This was a great time for some MCR, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. Brittany had never heard of them before, so I cranked the stereo, grabbed the box of garbage bags and we danced as we packed, and I sang along to some of the songs and we smiled like I know I’ve never smiled before. She never asked me about my newspaper wallpaper, or why I wanted to save some of the thinks I was keeping. She was just a friends helping another friend in need.

My buzz had long worn off and around six, everything was packed and ready to go. All that was left were the things in my locker, but I was going back to school next week, so I wasn’t worried about it. We said our goodbyes and she went home for the night.

It wasn’t for another hour that I saw she left her landline number on the kitchen counter and a note telling me to call her later. She also drew a heart on it. My heart felt full of happiness. I thought to myself,

“If I never see her again, I’m glad we have this moment. I’m okay with that.”

Friday seemed to drag by. I almost wished I was in school. I had a short list of what I would want to do if I ever ditched school, all things I could still do, but now I knew they wouldn’t be as fun by myself, without her. Still, I needed to do something because I was driving myself crazy.

I decided to drive down to the music store and buy a few new albums. I wanted to see if there was anything in my parent’s room I might want and I found a stash of twenty dollar bills and I knew they wouldn’t be needing money where they were. I considered it a birthday present to myself from them. I wound up buying a few different CDs, five all together, but I was the most exited for the new The Used album I found. It was just released today and I really liked that band.

After that, I headed to the mall. I looked through Hot Topic, but didn’t see anything I really liked, which I found odd, and across from the store I saw a Hollister. I thought about going and looking around, but decided I would rather not get anything than go in there.

But I went anyway and found some button up shirts I hate to admit I liked and some skinny jeans.

I saw guys wearing skinny jeans and I always thought it was stupid until I tried them on. Funny how life works.

After the mall, I gassed up my car and bought enough Cheerwine to murder a full grown moose.

The lock-in started at seven, but I wanted to be there a little early to do some skating on my own. By the time I left the gas station and ate an expensive steak dinner at Texas Roadhouse, and went home to get ready for tonight. I wanted to look nice for Brittany, and it made feel kind of warm and fuzzy thinking about it. Wait..what did I say? What is she doing to me?

My parents had a full length mirror in their bathroom and I looked at myself wearing these ridiculous preppy clothes and I actually thought I looked good. I mean, I’d date me if I could. Such a drastic change from my emo attire, something I never thought I’d see myself in, but with my shaved head and lack of eyeliner, I feel like I went from a six at best to an easy eight.

I pulled into the parking lot of the skating rink just a couple minutes passed six. Plenty of time to get a practice run in. I haven’t roller skated since the eighth grade when I left this place behind in middle school dust. See, in seventh grade, this was the coolest place to hang out. We would buy an admission ticket and then just chill out for a couple hours until our parents came to pick us up. I spotted the corner where we would headbang to rock songs and talk in a place outside of school. The skating rink was where kids could be kids, but as soon as high school starts creeping up, this place gets forgotten. There were kids in that corner doing the same things we did. The cycle never ends, and that’s a beautiful thing.

“Never thought I’d see you again, Travis.”

Why did that voice sound familiar? I turned around to see none other than...

“Who the fuck are you?”

“It’s me, Samantha, from second grade!”

“Holy shit! Where have you been?”

“Transferred to 71st after eighth grade. Didn’t want to wind up over at St. Pauls after Parkton, and my parents were ready to move anyway. Where do you go?”

“St. Pauls. Anyway, how did you recognize me?”

“Ha! I see your MySpace even if you don’t know it. You’ve changed a lot in the last week. Besides, you used to dress like that in middle school. That whole emo thing started after you heard Taking Back Sunday one time.”

“Hey, ‘Cute Without The E’ is an amazing song!”

“And it still is. So, yeah, wanna get together and listen to some music sometime?”

“Well, I’m kind of trying to..well, I like someone and..”

“It’s cool. I better get back to work. Oh, and the bald thing...not working for you. Doesn’t accent your eyes as well.”

Wow, what an odd start to a night. And top top it off, all the skates in my size are rented out. I have small feet, and so do the middle schoolers. Oh well, on to kicking major ass at Frogger.

And the machine is broken. Fucking middle school fucktards and they’re fucking Dr.Peppers. Wait, that sounds good.

“One large Dr. Pepper, please.”

“We outta large cups. Can I interest you in two mediums?”

“No, you can interest me in a large. Either that or get your manager.”

“Fine”, and as he walked away I heard, “punk ass Eminem wannabe.”

Samantha showed up again.

“I wanted the manager.”

“That’s me.”

“But you’re in high school.”

“And my dad owns this skating rink. Got me a job last year and I worked hard for this. Look, I’ll fill this giant mug if you quit complaining.”

“Fine. And...I’m sorry. For now and earlier. I’m not good at being nice.”

“You used to be. It’s on the house. Now go play.”

As I turned, I glanced at the door, and I saw her with her posse, walking in like they had a mission, hands full of bags and eyes full of fire. They were all dressed in black, outfits that appeared to have jumped from Hot Topic mannequins and landed on innocent, unsuspecting hosts. Brittany’s makeup featured no glitter, no sense of the subtle defining eyeshadow and mascara. No, she was more Avril than Aguilera now, and strangely enough, she could pull it off.

Behind them came the triplets. Billy, Bob and Thornton, in all of their glory, with Thornton sporting the only girl who would wear high heels to a skating rink on his arm. I felt like I no longer fit in, but if I changed, and Brittany changed, who was the real poser. The answer was neither of us.

Mr. Locklear talked about high school being a place where a person could find themselves if they chose to look and stop trying so hard to be someone they aren’t just to fit in. Halloween is a day that we have dedicated to being someone we’re not for the fun of it. Why should I care if I stand out. I’m comfortable dressed like this and dammit, I’m going to my birthday party regardless of what anyone thinks!

“Hey! Brittany! How did something so beautiful find it’s way here tonight?”

“Uh, Hey, creep. I’m meeting my boyfriend here soon, so, go away.”

“Brittany, it’s me, Travis.”

“What?!” She looked me up and down a few times. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Making a statement that it doesn’t matter what I wear or what I look like, I’m still me on the inside. Social cliques don’t matter in the real world and I can be an individual and still be a part of a group!”

Wait, scratch that, I didn’t say that. It was more like,

“Because I felt like it. I think I look good and I wanted to look good tonight. What about you?”

“Emo themed birthday party. Surprise...”

The clock struck seven and the doors were locked. The DJ called for all of the chaperones to come to the booth. I’m sure one day I’ll look back on this moment and laugh, but the look on his face was priceless. I’m sure it looked like the night of the living dead..and me.

Our assignment was literally to just watch these middle school kids and that was it. I’m sure we already knew that, but I guess it was nice to know for sure. As we walked away, Brittany tapped my shoulder and handed me a gift.

“For the love of God, please put this on”, then she reached into her purse for eyeliner, “and this.”

I headed to the bathroom and opened the present. It was a t-shirt emblazoned with the Three Cheers album cover and a birthday card.

‘You’ve changed me in a way that makes me think that everything does happen for a reason. Whether I like it or not, you’re my destiny. Whatever happens now, no matter what, I’m okay with that because I know I’ll always have you. Happy Birthday, Freak.’

She signed it with her name and a smiley face with a heart around it. I took off my shirt and pulled the My Chemical Romance over my head as if I was suiting up armor for battle. It’s kind of funny how being yourself is the best thing to be.

As I exited the bathroom, I pulled the button up shirt I was wearing back on and left it open. I started rolling up the sleeves and I could hear some song in my head, something I knew so well, but couldn’t remember the name or who it was by, but I know in the book of my life, this chapter would make the best story of the year.

We'll make the same mistakes

I'll take the fall for you

I hope you need this now

Because I know I still do

Until the day I die

I'll spill my heart for you

“Surprise!” All of them yelled at me as I rounded a corner, ruining the moment I had soundtracked in my head. In a great way, though, in a way that made me smile. Kind of like when the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes, except my heart wasn’t ready for the full commitment. One size was enough.

The next few hours were a blur of fun, friends, and a party I’d never forget. Yeah, we had to walk around and make sure the kids weren’t doing anything stupid, but really, they were hanging out just like we were. I got some cool gifts and Thornton’s girlfriend, named Amy, baked the cake herself. I made up with the triplets and we spend a while telling our own parts of the story and watched how it all fit together. Honestly it was a mess. Pretty much the most poorly planned surprise party ever. But that was okay because it still worked. I thought to myself, “amazing things can result from disaster”, and that was the damn truth.

At exactly 11:30, the DJ announced that it would be lights out in thirty minutes, and the groans from the middle schoolers told me that they weren’t ready for the night to be over, and I could definitely relate. I could honestly say that tonight had been the most fun of my entire life, and it only took my entire world to crash down to get here. See? Something amazing growing from a disaster.

Then, there was another announcement, one that was unexpected.

“And now, I’d like to introduce a birthday tonight for a Travis...something. This song goes out to you from a very special lady!”

Brittany came up to me and asked for a dance as an all too familiar song started playing.

Long go

Just like the hearse you die to get in again

We are

So far from you

I just grabbed her hand and went with it. This was our song, the first one I played when we were packing, the song playing when we started to dance and I knew my life was about to get better.

And we danced again like nobody was watching, as the middle schoolers skated a circle around us. They couldn’t understand the power of chemistry they way we did. It bonded us together the way stitches close a wound, the way a key fits into a lock, never allowing trespass until the right moment. A moment such as this, pure and adolescent, undying and infinite. This felt so right and I felt so free. Brittany was the ocean, ready to turn a ship into driftwood, and I was the lighthouse guiding it home. We were fire and ice. We were attracting opposites. In this moment, we were alone, hopelessly hopeful, helplessly holding on to something that only knew a beginning, but had no comprehensible end, and I liked it that way. This was high school. I wasn’t worried about our future. I had plenty of time for that. Right now, in this moment, her holding me was all that mattered. This was fun, and probably all I had left of being a kid. One day we may fade from each other, but I’ll always carry this moment because as I looked into her eyes, after seeing all she’d done for me, I knew, at 11:36pm on September 28, 2004, I fell in love with Brittany...something.

As the song and our dance ended, I held Brittany’s hand as we walked back to where our friends were. They laughed and cheered and we spent the next hour talking about the dance and just how great it was to be here. My friends and her friends, two clashing cliques enjoying each other’s company. We learned together that the labels don’t matter, the people do. By the time I was ready to sleep, my face hurt from smiling. Those muscles don’t get used as much as they should.

I found Brittany as she came out of the bathroom wearing her pajamas.

“Brittany, hey, I need to ask you something.”

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you would, maybe, be my girlfriend?”

“Oh, Travis, you’re sweet, but no.”

“No?”

“It would be weird, like dating my brother. I know you don’t understand yet, but you will. Besides, that manager girl keeps fucking staring at you and it creeps me out.”

“Yeah, well, she kinda creeps me out. She was my first crush.”

“That’s the girl from second grade?”

“Yep.”

“She’s cute. Go give it a shot before she gets away again.”

“Okay”, I chuckled, “good night, sis.”

“Good night, bro.”

The rest of the weekend kind of went like that. Meaningless flirting and fun times with all of my friends, and some great conversation and even the score of a number from Samantha.

Sunday morning gave us all a start with a huge clap of thunder. Last night, Brittany took all of the gifts and put them in my car while I was playing Skee-ball with Thornton because of the morning rain coming, and I was glad because it was pouring. I searched my pockets for my keys, but I couldn’t find them.

“Brittany, where are my keys?”

“You don’t have them? I must’ve left them in your car.”

There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, and as I looked through the glass door, I knew I didn’t see my car.

“Where’s my car?” I yelled it out loud to everyone. “Where’s my fucking car you pieces of shit?!”

“Calm down, dude”, said Billy, “nobody here has it. You gave the keys to the DJ last night to go to the gas station, but he never came back.”

“Great.”

“I’ll give you a ride to my house”, said Brittany, “you can use our landline to call the police.”

“Yeah, okay, sounds good. Let’s go.”

I thought, like, I’m almost sure I saw Brittany wink at Thornton, but I wasn’t certain.

The ride to our neighborhood took about a half hour and Brittany and I weren’t talking, just listening to a CD she had in her car. As each song went by, I became more and more aware that it sounded familiar to me.

Then it hit me why.

“Where did you get this?”

“You gave it to me on Wednesday when we were packing. You put it in my Brand New case. This is great stuff!”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I really like it. Why did you make this?”

“Well, it was for you, but I didn’t plan on giving it to you.”

“Why?”

“Because all of these songs remind me of you. It was like an ‘I love you’ sort of thing.”

“Well it’s really good. You’ll have to get me the song list so I know who the bands are.”

“You don’t recognize any of them?”

“Truth be told, I only bought that Brand New CD because I knew you were into it and I was into you. I mean, two weeks ago, the extent of my music knowledge came from the radio. My favorite band was still *NSYNC because I didn’t know any better.”

“You bought it...to break the ice with me?”

“I never lied, though. That album did speak to me and it still does.”

I didn’t respond, and as the playing song finished, it faded into the next, a personal favorite of mine. Down by blink-182. I cranked it, I wanted her to hear it.

And then it was over. Then next song started and I turned the volume down.

“Don’t play me anymore, please. I’m not mad, I can just tell you’re hiding something. What is it?”

We were pulling into our neighborhood and I could see her house. I could also see my car sitting in front of it.

“What the...?”

“Okay, there’s something I need to break the fuck down for you. Listen! I’m gonna need you to hold all further questions until the very end of the ride.”

“But...”

“Shut the FUCK up, Travis!”

So I did. I fact, even if I wanted to say anything, I couldn’t. How does a person respond to that?

As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed my car had been washed, and that someone was peeping through the front door window, but quickly closed the curtain. I looked at Brittany, but kept my mouth shut. When the car was off, I stepped out and went around to open the driver’s door for her.

Up a small porch of three steps and across a small deck, and I stopped her.

“Is there anything else I should know? Any more surprises?”

“My mom wears her hair like Whoopi Goldberg and my dad, well...you’ll see.”

Through the door and man, was Brittany right.

“Hi, Travis. I’ve heard a lot about you. My name is Tiffany Locklear, and this is my husband, Vance.”

From around the corner came the only person that made my high school career tolerable.

“Mr. Locklear is your dad?”

“I think”, Mr. Vance said, “we have a lot of talking to do. Anyone want some Koolaid? Travis? You like Cheerwine, I know that.”

“Yeah, you should see my trunk.”

And we laughed. I could never make my own parents laugh.

This was one seriously deviously twisted story mixed into another story. To start things off, guardianship of me was passed from my parents to the Locklears about four days before I was told. My mom had just been committed, which was hidden from me at first because the school didn’t want it to interfere with me mentally since I already had a lot going on, but when my dad was arrested, there was no more time. Mr. Locklear, Vance, had been keeping in contact with me through detention and we had a bond, like a father-son bond that made us familiar, and he called my father about taking over custody after learning about the wallpaper story. If I had put all of this together before, I could’ve seen this coming, but I was under the impression that nothing good would ever happen to me.

I was wrong.

If you’re looking for a happy ending, I don’t have one, because my story isn’t over. I’m in high school and I have so much ahead of me, so much that I can look forward to, and this chapter here might be coming to a close, but this isn’t a happy ending either. I didn’t get the girl. She became somewhat of an adopted sister or something. I am still talking with Samantha and I like where that’s headed, but in, like, every movie ever, the guy always gets the girl he wants. There’s never been a settling option, although my settling option isn’t exactly a loss. I lost my parents and have no contact with them. I still have a lot of work to do to pull up my grades in the next year and a half. My friends are idiots, and they’re not perfect, but they work for me. We have fun and I think that’s all that really matters. This ending isn’t happy, it’s more like average, or kind of mediocre, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with a new beginning and I’m okay with the path I’m on.

I’m not okay with the questions.

Monday was a full caliber nightmare. People I’d never talked to before knew my name and my business. I did a lot of rude ignoring, but in my defense, why seek sympathy spilling my heart out to strangers? The answer was simple: that’s what writers do. In writing. Mass produced feelings printed for reading pleasure.

I want to write a book someday. I want to tell this story.

I came home from school that day early. It was nice not having to go to detention, especially since the reason I liked to go was now my legal guardian. I had my own room and there was no newspaper on the wall. There were no sticking drawers and they all had their own handles and knobs. Most of all, I had a nice bed and actual sheets on a bed frame. At my other house, I had a tattered and torn mattress on the floor. Vance had to explain to me what a box spring was. I had never seen one.

There was a note on my dresser from Brittany instructing me to meet her at our spot in half an hour. She had only just gotten home like ten minutes before me. I could hardly wait to see what she had planned. She was pretty good at surprises.

As I approached the power boxes, I could see a blanket draped over the biggest one. Then I saw her, and she was wearing a dress. It was now October, but it wasn’t really getting cold yet.

“I thought maybe we could have a picnic. Cheerwine?”

She poured it in two plastic wine glasses.

“This is awesome! How do you think of these things?”

“I watch a lot of romantic comedies. I just don’t have anyone else to do this stuff with, so I’ve decided I’ll practice on you, now that you’re my brother, and you can rate my performance.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Since when can’t work be fun?”

Then, Brittany pressed play on the boom box sitting near us and I heard an unfamiliar song begin to play.

“What is this?”

“They’re a newer band. Really got started last year. It’s called ‘Saturday’ and they call themselves Fall Out Boy.”

“I like it. Well done! Oh and by the way, I have a present for you.”

I was wearing my Tripp pants again and pulled my Discman out of a massive side pocket.

“I found your Brand New CD in here today.”

“You know what? Keep it. I know where to find it anyway, right in your stash of great vampire music.”

“The term is emo. If we’re gonna do this, you need to get it right.”

“Okay, emo boy. Eat your baloney.”

And that’s pretty much it. That’s how it all happened. In a span of a few weeks. Brittany and I proved that status in high school doesn’t mean shit when it comes to the quality of true friendship. I think it’s much better to face these things with sense of poise and rationality, don’t you?

I’m not sure why, but I feel like next year, everyone will know that phrase.

Okay now, get the fuck out of my head! And shut the door! Haven’t you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?