Scar Girl (The Scar Boys #2)(16)
Have you ever held a bass guitar? If you have, then you know it’s big. And it’s heavy. Much bigger and heavier than regular guitars. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m small. Just holding the bass makes me feel gravity more than someone else does. The whole thing pulls me down to the earth. It’s an incredible feeling. I’m rooted, stable. But that’s only the beginning. The real magic is when you plug it in.
Bass notes are low, rumbling, like the language mountains must use to talk to each other. It’s like the instrument plants me on the ground, and then my fingers draw music up from the center of the earth.
It’s hard to explain.
Anyway, we played for about forty-five minutes, and it felt good. But then the elephants in the room—my pregnancy, the fact that Richie knew about it, Harry’s song, worry about Johnny—started to gather together and dance around me.
Plus, something wasn’t feeling right. My back hurt and my stomach was starting to cramp. Time to go.
I told the guys I was tired and asked Harry to drive me home.
HARBINGER JONES
We dropped Richie at his house and then headed for Chey’s.
“Cheyenne,” I said when we were alone in the car, using her full name so she’d know I was serious. She didn’t answer, and she didn’t look good. She just waited for me to continue. “That song I wrote—”
“Harry,” she cut me off, “don’t. I can’t—”
She looked like she was going to cry, and I wasn’t sure what to do, so I pulled over. We were on Central Avenue, near the racetrack.
Turns out I was reading her expression all wrong. Crying wasn’t what she had in mind. For the second time in my life, Cheyenne Belle threw up all over me and my stuff.
If you’ve never been puked on, it’s pretty disgusting. But for me, it wasn’t about the vomit. The other time Chey threw up on me was also at the exact moment I tried to talk about my feelings for her. I know I’m repulsive, but this was the girl who’d kissed me. I can’t be that repulsive, can I? The answer to that question, in case you’re wondering, is a resounding yes.
Chey helped me clean up the mess, apologizing the whole time. We rolled down the windows and, even though it was cold out, blasted the AC to get the smell out as I drove the last couple of blocks to her house. She didn’t say anything on the ride over or when she got out of the car. She just gave me a sad, backward glance. Like the Lorax.
CHEYENNE BELLE
I was pretty sure it wasn’t morning sickness. That had more or less ended a couple of weeks before, and, besides, this felt different. It was more like puking from a fever, you know? I figured maybe I was getting the flu.
I felt really bad about the mess in Harry’s car and did my best to help him clean it up. Then he dropped me off at home.
My mother was bitching at me about something or other the second I walked through the door, but I just ignored her and went straight to my room and fell asleep.
I had this really vivid dream that I was being chased by a pair of sneakers. There wasn’t anyone in them, just a pair of sneakers. I don’t know why I was so terrified of them, but I was. That had to be the most restless sleep I’ve ever had.
HARBINGER JONES
I watched Chey get safely inside, and then I just started driving. I wasn’t at all conscious of my surroundings.
It was a lot like this one night in Athens when everything felt like it was spinning out of control and I just walked aimlessly. I wound up at a phone booth downtown and called Dr. Kenny. That night, everything in the world was hyperreal. On this day, it all sort of disappeared.
By the time I’d zoned back in, I’d made it all the way to the Kensico Dam, like fifteen miles away. It was kind of scary that I’d driven that far without any real understanding of how I’d gone from point A to point B. I parked the car, got out, wandered into the dam’s main plaza, and sat down on a low stone wall.
It was early November, it was gray, and it was getting cold. I wasn’t dressed for the weather, but I was feeling numb and didn’t really notice. I started listing all the things I couldn’t control:
Thing I Couldn’t Control #1:
I was never going to stop wanting Chey,
needing Chey, and loving Chey.
(Three out of three ain’t bad,
either, Meat Loaf.)
Thing I Couldn’t Control #2:
Cheyenne was never
going to love me back.
Thing I Couldn’t Control #3:
Chey and Johnny were going
to be together forever.
I could feel the world disappearing even more, so I started on one of my lists to help me calm down. It was the periodic table, rearranged to put the elements in alphabetical order.
Actinium
Aluminum
Americium
It was starting to work; my heart was retreating from the redline. But something inside me made me stop. That kind of freaked me out, because once I got going on a list, I never stopped. Ever. But this time I just couldn’t go any further.
Strike that. Not that I couldn’t go any further; I didn’t want to.
I was tired of the lists. Tired of preventing myself from feeling whatever it was the world wanted me to feel. Tired of walking through life anesthetized.