Boring Girls(6)

The guy nodded, his expression turning into one of interest. “Oh yeah. We’ve got ’em. In the back, in the metal section.”

I nodded and went to the back of the store. This place obviously kept their “specialty” stuff in separate places from the regular racks, a fact I did not know because I had never really listened to music other than what was on the radio, and I barely listened to that.

And there they were. DED. I picked up the CD. Die Every Death was the full band name, and I shivered with excitement. The album was called Punish and Kill.

There were plenty of other bands, plenty of other CDs with that unreadable electric font, tucked in the back of the store. I felt like I’d uncovered a secret world.

The guy from the front counter had wandered back to join me. “That’s a great record,” he said, referring to Punish and Kill. “They’re awesome.”

“Yeah, they are,” I agreed. “I’ve only heard a little bit, but I really like it.”

“Oh man, you have to check out track six. ‘Stomp Your Skull.’ It’s completely killer. The whole record is.”

“I totally will,” I said. “Awesome.”

xXx

When I arrived back at my house, Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table. Dad was marking a pile of papers and was in the middle of a rant about the idiocy of his students when I burst in through the side door, desperate to listen to my new CD.

“Well, Rachel, how was the exam?” my mother asked.

“Fine. Good,” I said.

“What’s in the bag?” my father asked. “You bought a CD?”

I knew that they would not approve. But I had never been the sort to lie to my parents. I isolated myself in my room, but I did not hide things from them.

“I did.”

“Well, let’s see what you bought!” Mom said cheerfully. I placed it on the table in front of them. Dad picked it up.

“DED. Die Every Death,” he read, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Punish and Kill.”

“Punish and Kill?” repeated my mother.

“It’s really good,” I said. “I really like what I’ve heard of it.”

My parents looked at each other across the table, and for the first time I felt a line slowly etch itself between me and them. Then they looked at me.

“Where did you hear about this band?” Dad asked, handing the album to my mother.

“Oh, Rachel, it looks like very upsetting music,” Mom said. “Look at these song titles. ‘Cut Gut’? ‘I Ignore Your Screams’?”

“You just don’t understand it,” I said crossly.

“Honey, it’s not that. It’s that I don’t think we want to understand it,” Dad said. “You’re a bright girl. You don’t want to listen to music like this.”

“Well, maybe I do want to listen to it.” My voice was rising. “You don’t know the sort of things that I like. You don’t get who I am.”

My parents exchanged another seemingly telepathic look, which infuriated me.

“Just be careful,” Mom said. “Make sure you listen to all types of music until you find something you really like that speaks to you. You shouldn’t surround yourself with just one kind of influence. There are many perspectives in the world —”

“Oh, it’s just a stupid CD!” I interrupted. “It doesn’t mean anything. And I like it. So I am going to listen to it.”

I grabbed the CD from my mother’s hands and stormed out of the kitchen towards my bedroom. Melissa stuck her head out of her bedroom, a look of bewilderment on her face. Our family did not tend to argue.

I shut my door firmly, not allowing myself to slam it. I sat down on my bed and unwrapped the CD. I opened the jacket and was presented with the members of DED: five tall men in black, with long hair. To their waists. They were gloomily lit and silhouetted against a purple-skied wasteland. Their faces were in shadow.

There was a knock on my door. I knew it wasn’t my parents. I could hear them talking in low voices in the kitchen. When I muttered a reply to the knock, Melissa came in quietly and closed the door behind her.

“What happened?”

I sighed. “I bought a CD and Mom and Dad don’t like it.”

“Let me see!”

I showed her the album. Melissa opened the booklet. “They look like Dracula. But with long hair, like girls. Why do they have long hair like that?”