Scar Girl (The Scar Boys #2)(50)

“I don’t know, to help you feel better.”

Another crazy long pause.

“Johnny?”

“Can you turn back time?” He whispered the question.

“John?” He was starting to freak me out. A lot.

“Me, either.”

And then I started to cry. I don’t know what set me off, but I wished I was there, sitting next to Johnny, on the couch in his living room. I wanted to hold him. The distance the phone was putting between us may as well have been the distance to the moon. I was so frustrated, so angry, and so sad all at the same time.

“I’m really sorry.” I was crying harder now. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know what exactly I was apologizing for.

No answer. No noise.

“Johnny?” I choked back my tears as best as I could. “Are you still there?”

“I’m really tired, Chey. I need to go lie down.”

He was freaking me out so much that if he hadn’t said what he said next, I think I would’ve called a cab and gone straight to his house.

“Say hi to Jeff for me.” And he hung up.

I dropped the phone, turned my face into the pillow, and screamed and cried. I don’t know how long I was like that, but it must’ve been a while, because I heard my mom shout, “Stop that blubbering!” I wanted to yell, “Fuck you,” back at her, but I didn’t have it in me. This had to be the bottom. I had to have reached the end. Things really couldn’t get any worse.





PART NINE,

JANUARY TO MARCH 1987

A lot of people want to die for a lot of reasons.

—Johnny Thunders



What motivates you?





HARBINGER JONES


I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I guess I’m constantly needing to prove to the world that I’m normal, that I’m just like everyone else, even though I’m not. I still haven’t figured out how to embrace that.





RICHIE MCGILL


Sex, and rock and roll. I don’t do drugs.





CHEYENNE BELLE


Knowing that I have to live every day like it’s my last.





CHEYENNE BELLE


It was the next day, and sunlight was pouring down through a window set high in the wall of Harry’s basement, bathing Richie and his drum kit in this beautiful ray of light. He was tapping a drumstick around the edge of his mounted tom and using the drum key to tighten the skin.

Johnny had told Richie that he was going to walk to rehearsal, so the three of us were going through our normal warm-up routines while we waited for him.

Harry was hunched over his electronic tuner, trying to get the A string on his Strat just right. I was waiting for him to finish so I could use the tuner, too.





HARBINGER JONES


Tuning a guitar is an art. It works best to get one string perfect and then tune all the rest to it.

The trick, and a lot of people don’t know this, is to tune up, not down. You want to start with the strings a little flat and tighten the machines—those are the chrome doodads on the top of the guitar—rather than loosen them. For some reason, the guitar seems to hold its tune better that way.

I had just gotten the A string as close as I was going to get it and was starting on the rest of the strings when my mom walked in.





CHEYENNE BELLE


She was wearing black stirrup pants and a long white blouse cinched with a belt, and she had on earrings and makeup, like she was about to leave the house. The first thing I noticed was that her color was all wrong. Her skin matched her shirt, like she was sick. And her lower lip was quivering.

Mrs. Jones is usually a pretty happy person. It’s like she doesn’t want to waste her time on bad stuff. I always admired that about her, especially after everything she’d been through with Harry.

But one look at her and I knew something bad had happened.





HARBINGER JONES


My mom looked like she’d seen a ghost. Wait, strike that. She looked like she was a ghost. My first thought was that something had happened to my dad.





CHEYENNE BELLE


“Kids,” Harry’s mom said. “I have some bad news.”

And then she started crying. I don’t think any of us knew what to do, not even Harry. I snuck a peek at Richie, who looked as nervous as I felt. He looked back at me and shrugged.





RICHIE MCGILL


I had no idea what was going on. But I knew it wasn’t good.





HARBINGER JONES


“Mom?” I put my guitar down and went to her, and she wrapped me in a hug and wouldn’t let go. And she was crying.

I’d seen my mom cry plenty over the years. As happy as she tried to be, my mom was no stranger to waterworks, but this, this was different. Something was seriously wrong, and it was completely freaking me out.





CHEYENNE BELLE


I realized something.

She came into the room and said, “Kids, I have some bad news.” Not “Harry, I have some bad news.”

Kids.