Boring Girls(79)

And the whole thing with Jamie still bothered me. No, there hadn’t been anything between us and I had probably imagined anything I had felt, but I had liked him. I guess. Sort of. As much as you can like a person for having known them for ten minutes. The only other person I’d ever liked was Craig, and that had been a complete waste of time, and so long ago now that it made no sense at all. And he’d asked me out, but I’d said no. Was there something wrong with me for not having a boyfriend? Was this something I should be worrying about as well? Entering my last year of high school without ever having kissed a guy, or even really having wanted to kiss a guy?

xXx

Good news came the night before school started. Fern called me, freaking out. “Guess who is playing in St. Charles in October? Oh, you won’t ever guess.”

“Heathenistic Bile?” I shrieked in excitement.

“No, you idiot,” she laughed. “Oh god. It’s awesome!”

“Who?”

“DED. They’re coming. They’re finally coming! I’m going to pick up tickets tomorrow after school if you want to come.”

And so, with all the giddy, blind enthusiasm of a little child chasing something shiny across the street and running into the path of a speeding truck, I set my course towards the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person.

It’s the type of thing where you look back on all the choices you made that led you to the horrible moment and wish that you could go back. Just change it. The kind of thing where your stomach gets queasy when you remember how stupid you were, and you want to pull out clumps of your own hair and slap yourself in the face to somehow get rid of the regret you feel at your own past ignorance.

And there were so many omens too, now that I look at them. Socks and Edgar couldn’t make it that weekend. So it would just be me and Fern. Craig, who was still pals with everyone, had moved to college and couldn’t afford the tickets. Even Yvonne bailed. It was just me and Fern, picking out our outfits for weeks, giggling on the phone. Sitting in my bedroom, listening to Punish and Kill on repeat, staring up at my poster of Balthazar Seizure, saturating myself in it, inviting it.

It was going to be the biggest concert, the most exciting event in the last few years for us, and no one else we knew was going. Yeah — Fern and me, standing together in idiot silhouettes against the f*cking mushroom cloud.





THIRTY-ONE


That fall, our band got offers to play a few more shows. I guess word had spread about our show, and not only did a few places in Port Claim offer us gigs, but a few bands from other cities wanted us to open for them. All the offers were pretty lousy. Yeah, we’d had a good show, but no one was offering us money. The places in Port Claim couldn’t pay us enough to compensate for the gas money it would cost to get there. There was no way to gauge how many people would come. And besides, with school being in and me trying to keep the band quiet from my parents, it wasn’t likely at all that I’d be able to go away for a possible weekend show. The others were understanding about it; it wasn’t like we were giving up some great opportunities.

And besides, Fern and I had enough to look forward to with DED coming.

As the day of the concert drew nearer, we laid out our plans. Of course we were going to try to meet the band. Fern had already packed up a few of our CDs to give them, even though Edgar worried that we shouldn’t be giving them away. He was right, we needed every cent of the money, but this was a good opportunity.

“Maybe they’ve heard of us already after the whole puking thing,” Fern said.

Maybe. I didn’t want to get ahead of ourselves, but the night before the show as I gazed at my outfit in the mirror, I definitely felt like Fern and I were going into this as more than fans. It was the same vibe I’d tried to inspire when we’d met Marie-Lise, but this time with more experience. We’d toured! Kind of. Surely that put us up on the same level as DED. I shook my head, laughing at my own stupidity.

I thought my outfit looked great, black and blue striped knee socks and a black skirt and top. I’d match the light blue in the socks with the same shade of eyeshadow, which I thought would look very striking. My eyes moved from my reflection in the mirror up to my poster of Balthazar Seizure.

“Tomorrow,” I said.

xXx

Our plan was pretty lame. We were going to take the same early bus to St. Charles, exactly the way we had done for Gurgol. The difference was that last time, Socks and Edgar had met us at the show and we’d all driven back in the van. This time, we’d purchased return tickets in hopes that the show would end in time for us to catch the last bus back to Keeleford. If we missed that bus, well, we’d just have to figure something out. Nice, right? See? Another damn sign. I don’t know what the hell we were thinking.