Boring Girls(51)

“Cool. Well, good luck with it. If you want to leave a couple of these flyers here in the store, I’ll hand them out to people who might be interested.”

That was awesome of him, and we left the shop feeling really good. I knew it was on such a small scale, but I was starting to feel important, as though we were making contacts and promoting the band and getting on the road to doing something amazing. It felt like we were somehow rising up and above, as if we were somehow becoming different.





TWENTY


All of us took turns reposting flyers. Ours would get torn down or posted over with different ones. I’d go downtown and see that our flyers had been covered with advertisements for some craft bazaar at some church nearby, and I couldn’t help but get pissed off at them. The Wesley Presbyterian Church Craft Bazaar and Free Horror Movie Nights at the Southdale Movie Theatre became our enemies, halfhearted as it was. They probably hated us too, because we’d cover up their flyers in retaliation more thoroughly than they’d covered ours. We’d joke about having violent run-ins with the sweet old grannies from Wesley Presbyterian, with them beating us down with their umbrellas. One Sunday afternoon when I was downtown with Edgar, we actually saw a sweet old granny striding efficiently down the street with flyers under one arm and an umbrella in the other, and we erupted into gales of laughter, likely confusing the old dear as we passed her.

xXx

We had a half hour to play at the gig, so we had honed eight songs, bringing us in at just under thirty minutes. We rehearsed like mad every Saturday, and sometimes during the week as we got closer to the show day. One of my major motivations was not leaving Paul or his band with a leg to stand on in terms of us being a weak and silly band. It was akin to my feelings about Craig: dislike paired with a guilty desire to impress. I roared, I growled, I wheezed and whispered. I was sounding amazing. Edgar had improved as well, and Socks was consistently great. Fern’s guitar playing had become almost flawless, and towards our last rehearsals she was playing her solos perfectly.

We talked a bit about what we wanted to wear onstage. Socks insisted that he could only play in shorts and of course his white socks; at every rehearsal he had taken off his shoes and placed them neatly beside his drum kit, claiming he played better without wearing them. Edgar didn’t see anything wrong with just wearing some variation of his usual black T-shirt and black cargo pants.

Fern and I decided to wear matching black tops that laced up the back, and I would wear a blue plaid skirt and she a red one. I secretly loved that blue and red reflected the colours of Judith and her maidservant. The week before the show, Fern bleached her hair again, striving to make it as white as she could, and I dyed my hair black again. I couldn’t help but feel that Fern was rather obviously copying Marie-Lise, but she looked awesome, so I put it out of my mind. Was how I looked so original? Not at all, so who was I to even think anything about how Fern looked?

xXx

My parents were supportive of the gig, even though they politely declined my politely offered invitation to attend. My grades hadn’t slipped and, if anything, I was much happier than I had been before the band started, so there was no reason for them to argue with me about it. When that Saturday afternoon arrived, my mother sent me out the door with “break a leg” sentiments.

The van pulled up, Socks and Edgar having loaded the gear the previous night, and I climbed in the back, feeling the buzz of excitement and adventure. Fern was bouncing in her seat and reached over to hug me, Edgar let out a whoop as Socks pulled away from the curb, and we were on the road. Colostomy Hag was on its way to a show.

I pictured being in front of an audience, finally; the cheering and applause, the lights sweeping over us, how amazing we would look and sound. Maybe Paul already had a bias against us and no one had heard of us, but after tonight that would change. We’d win them all over and show them that we were a force to be reckoned with. Their mouths would drop open when they saw how amazing Fern was on guitar, and I would show them what I could do, and it would all begin tonight.

Socks put on our crappy demo CD as we moved onto the highway and turned it up. I opened the window, feeling the cool air blow on my face, and closed my eyes blissfully. I was reminded of going to the Surgical Carnage show — the first time going out with people I could be friends with, feeling that excitement of fitting in, and here it was again, only better this time — I was in a band, I was a vocalist, and I had a bond with the other three people in the van. We were going to do awesome things. Socks roared along with one of my roars on the CD and punched the steering wheel happily.