chapter five

crybaby by destroy boys

I'm in a band.

And it's weird, because, for whatever reason, I thought that being in a band would mean writing songs and playing my bass and occasionally providing backing vocals in someone's garage. But, apparently, being in a band means arguing. It means arguing a lot. And I'm sitting in the back of Griffin's car (and I'm like, eighty-percent positive this kid hates me), listening to my new bandmates yell over each other while we drive to the gas station to get band practice gas station snacks.

"We are a punk band. We play punk music and do punk shit and that's what we've always been," Wes is arguing from his spot in the front seat and he's slapping his hands on his thighs for dramatic effect but he's doing it offbeat and I'm starting to wonder about his ability as a drummer. "Now all the sudden you wanna change our sound?"

Griffin's not very good at driving in the first place but this discussion's not helping and he's starting to swerve a little. "Punk is dead, Wes! No one listens to new punk bands anymore. Every single good punk band broke up or died before the twenty-first century. Hyperpop is where it's at."

"Hyperpop? Are you insane?" Wes yells back at him and I've never seen him this angry. "What, are we just supposed to all learn how to work a synthesizer now? Are you gonna get on a keyboard, Griffin? Gonna make Forest sing three octaves above his register? We're not doing hyperpop."

"You know what this is, right? I'm trying to bring our band into modern sounds and play with trends, and you're holding me back with your elitist concepts of subgenre. This is gonna be the demise of our band."

And while they were yelling back and forth at each other, I'm sitting in the back, no seatbelt with my feet kicked up on the middle of the backseat with Forest sitting across from me. He tosses me a scoff. "They're arguing over a band that doesn't even have a name," he says easily, and then looks at me like the sight of me surprises him. "Hey, do you like riot grrrl? I feel like we could be a good riot grrrl band."

"I don't squeal," I tell him surely. "Besides, none of us are girls."

From the driver's seat, Griffin turns around for a second and looks at me like I have two heads. "You don't have to be a girl to have a riot grrrl band. That's like the whole point of the genre, right? Gender inclusion."

Wes interjects with a quick, "If you think that's what riot grrrl is, then you have no business being in a riot grrrl band."

"'Girl' is literally in the name of the genre. We can't be a riot grrrl band with literally no girls in the band," I tell him, almost surprised at how someone could have such a bold interpretation of a entire subgenre. "Also, riot grrrl is a punk subgenre and you were literally just saying we shouldn't play punk. Also, I don't squeal."

Forest says, "What if we did ska?" like it was an actual good idea.

"Why don't we just like, write one song first? Just one, tiny original song?" I suggest, half sarcastic. "It doesn't even have to be good, really."

"You're the bass player," Griffin says from the front seat and I think that I've known these guys for probably about four hours and we're already arguing like we've known each other our whole lives and I can't tell if that's a really bad sign or a really good one. "You're literally gonna play like, two notes a song."

I kick my feet down and lean forward. "I can probably play your little guitar better than you. Watching you try to land notes is like watching a toddler trying to fit their little star shaped toy through the square shaped hole. I can play Tommy Cat."

This brag earned a groan from everyone in the car. "We know, Tatum," Wes complained from the front.

"Brought it up like fifteen times."

"Like we get it, you can slap the bass."

"Y'know, what are you bringing into this band, Wes?" Griffin said suddenly, like something just occurred to him. He took his hand off the wheel and gestured back to me. "Like, what is this? What is that shirt? Please explain to me this shirt."

Gaping, I looked down at my large green shirt and glared up at the boy. "This shirt is hilarious. This is the best shirt I own."

Forest lean forward and read the words across my chest. "'Women want me; fish fear me.'" He paused, pursing his lips. "It's a good shirt."

Wes rolled his head over towards the driver's seat. "It's a pretty good shirt, dude."

"Frankly, I don't trust your artistic judgement if you're over here criticizing my shirt when you're dressed like an extra from the mid90s set."

"The nineties are in!"

And this went on for a while. The bickering and the jumping from one argument to another until Griffin finally admitted that all the arguing kept him from remembering to turn at the right time and we had been fighting in that car for an unnecessary twenty minutes. My head hurts and my voice is raw from the yelling so I don't complain when they tell me I have go in and get all the practice snacks because I'm the new one.

I'm standing in the middle of the isle and I have Snowballs and Hot Fries and three Dr. Pepper's in my hands and I'm trying to figure out if I should get Skittles or Cheetos. The guy at the counter watches me with unimpressed and bored eyes while I drop what's in my arms on the counter and make my way back over to the fridges to grab myself an energy drink or three.

Rows of colorful drinks stare back at me and I'm trying to plan my weeks out now. Band practices happen three times and week, always at night, and run till eleven. That leaves four days to film and we have about an hour left to film and I don't know how I'm gonna space this out.

And that stupid car scene still needs to get done but I don't wanna talk to Embry again and I'm not gonna talk to Embry again because the idea of him makes me more mad than I have ever been and I know that's not really saying much but still it's so unfamiliar to me. I grab three energy drinks and I shut the door and I decide to get Skittles because I'm stressed and I deserve them and he's there.

It takes me a second to register his presence. He's standing there, blocking the path to pay with his broad shoulders and jagged haircut and he's looking down at me and when I see his eyes I feel like I'm falling again for about three seconds before I remember who he is. "Umm," I start, looking back and forth between him and the rest of the store and I don't know what's going on and why he's just staring at me.

"Hey," he says easily, and his voice sounds different from before. It sounds softer and more controlled and he's so tall it seems impossible. "Um, I'm Paul."

I don't know if I'm confused or angry but I would really like to leave and not figure out which one it is and I feel like Paul is a really weird name for someone so young. I tap on my foot and say, "Okay?"

Neither of us move and he just says, "You're Tatum, right? You're Embry's sibling?"

"Yeah, that's me. Can you, um, can you move please? I have pay."

But he doesn't seem interested in doing so. "I've heard a ton about you from Embry," this Paul character says like it's a good thing and I wonder if he forgot the first time we met. "I'm one of his friends."

"Oh, yeah! I remember you! You're the one who knocked me off my skateboard and made it snap half, and then you cussed me out!" I said in a faux excitement, pointing at him like the memory just came back to me. I dropped my smile and said, "Move please."

This guy steps out of my way but he follows me while I walk up to the counter and he says, "I can make you a new board if you want."

"I already bought a new one," I tell him, yanking cash out from my pocket and throwing it down on the counter while the man gathered up my pile of sugar into a plastic bag.

He's standing behind me and for a second he stammers. "Well, maybe I could take you on a date, to make up for it."

I stop, plastic bag looped around my wrist and I look up at him with disbelieving eyes. "You're asking me on a date right now?"

Paul smiles at me. It's a dazzling smile and it's confident it makes my heart beat a little faster in my chest and for whatever reason that makes me hate him more. "Yeah."

"No," I answer, and I push past him and make my way towards the door.

Griffin's honking the horn when I step out of the door and I know I'm taking a while but Paul's long stride matches mine and he says, "Well, why not?"

I stop, ignoring the honking of the horn and I look up at him because he's so impossibly tall and I tell him, "I have a boyfriend."

He narrows his features like this news is shocking and upsetting and I'm trying to track the emotional history of his guy from the time I met him and it makes my head hurt. "A boyfriend?"

"Yeah, a boyfriend," I confirm, and then add for good measure, "I also think you're kind of a douche."

"Hey!" the sound of Wes's yell makes my head turn. He's leaning out the window of the car and Forest is standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Is this guy bothering you, Tate?"

I stare down Wes and Forest, who have skinny arms and skinny legs and then I turn and look at this kid Paul, who is tall and has muscles that look like they're about to pop from his shirt and he's scowling at Wes and Forest and I look back at them and suddenly Forest is shaking his head and yelling back, "That's fine. You can keep bothering them, it's cool."

I roll my eyes and walk towards the car with a stride I hope is confident and try not to look behind me and I realize that I forgot my Skittles.

I scream. I'm not above it.

Parker looks at me with wide and horrified eyes and I don't have the decency to feel shame over it. Because I hate driving. I hate is so much and I hate everyone else that has the audacity to be on the road at the same time as me. My hands are tight on the wheel and I've been pulled over on the side of this road for about five minutes now because I guess I can't do anything but scream and almost get into car accidents. Almost. "Why don't you just let me drive the rest of the way?" Parker asks, trying to sound more calm than he was. The kid's rattled. I hear it in his voice.

My hands are rubbing against my eye sockets and tangling in the roots of my hair. "I can't even drive ten minutes without almost killing someone," I complain, making no move to get out of the driver's seat. "This is stupid. Why did you make me drive? You know I can't drive," I ask of my boyfriend, who is now scoffing at the notion that this is all his fault.

"Tate, you need to learn how to drive. You're eighteen and you're the only senior that can't drive," he argues, looking at me like I'm being difficult for no reason and I'm over here choosing to be abysmal at driving around in a metal box. I give him wide eyes, and he relents with a sigh. "Okay, fine, do you want me to drive the rest of the way?"

With a shameful feeling in my gut, I rip my seatbelt off and crawl over to the passenger seat while Parker pushes the door open with a huff. I watch him walk around the front of the car, shaking his head. Sometimes I don't know if I'm immature or if Parker is stiff but there's some sort of disconnect there that makes me feel like a pouting child instead of a significant other. Not being able to drive doesn't really help, either.

He starts the car and I'm leaning my head against the window as we drive through the town and I think that I've been harsh on Parker lately and I don't know why. And the word insufficient is rattling around in my brain like it's the only word I've ever heard and there's nothing I can think of to explain but everything just doesn't feel like enough right now. Like there's something I'm missing. It has me on edge and it has me harsh and I think that maybe it has something to do with my brother and his weird little group of friends. Or maybe it has to do with the fact that Bella Swan hasn't talked to me in days and Jacob Black has been able to accomplish what I couldn't do for months in like, three weeks. Either way, I feel short-circuited.

Parker drives down the street like it's nothing and we pass houses and cars and he doesn't freak out when they get too close and he can drive without swerving or going to slow and I close my eyes and I try to imagine myself somewhere else.

Sometimes I like to do nothing.

It's rare, because there's always something and and it's always a lot and I get overwhelmed at the idea of not doing something. But even for me and my ever present need to be consumed by something, it can get too much. So I wrap myself up in a blanket and I drink hot tea and I turn on movies I don't care about to fall asleep on the couch too. And I can only do this for about two hours before I start to feel like my chest is tightening and the anxiety pushes me to be productive again.

My eyes are halfway closed and my tea is sitting on the coffee table in front of me getting cold and I'm halfway through some movie I don't know the plot of when Embry stomps through the kitchen and into the living room and stares down at me and suddenly doing nothing is off the table and I'm sitting up straight. He's in the doorframe, leaning up against it and arms crossed over his chest and he says to me, "Hey Tate. Can we talk?"

"No," I huff, trying to sound tough as I possibly cold wrap up in a fluffy blanket. "I told you I'm not talking to you."

"You're talking to me right now."

"Fuck off."

Embry sighs. He doesn't look like my brother anymore; Embry looks older and like there's something in his eyes he lost and can't get back. I think that I wasn't so goddamn mad at him for blowing me off and being a dick about it, I'd try to help him, somehow. I think about what Bella Swan told me and how she thinks Em's in a cult or a gang and I look at him and he just seems tired. "You should come to our bonfire this weekend."

I squint my eyes in incredulity. "I'm not going to your bonfire. I literally hate you right now."

"You don't hate me."

"Right now I do."

"Just come," he resolves, looking at me with pleading eyes. "Guys at the res wanna meet you and I think it would be a break from being a clinically insane person with a to-do list that's six million do's long."

I wave my hands around in this wild and aggressive motion and I say, "I don't want to meet the guys at the res and I like my to-do list. You've been a huge dick to me and I don't wanna spend time with you and you haven't even apologized and you look stupid and I hate you."

But Embry flashes his teeth at me in a big and goofy smile and says, "Please?" and he doesn't flinch when the pillow from the couch hits him in the face.

"Please come with me I am literally begging you."

Bella sighs, tangling the roots of her hair in her hands and she's resting her elbow on the cafeteria table and I know she wants to say no, but I'm not stopping until she agrees. "I thought you were fighting with your brother," she says in response.

I sigh. "Yeah, but he said he'll help with the car scene before we go and it's not like I'm gonna be mad at him forever."

"I dunno. Jacob says those guys are bad news-"

"My brother, you mean," I correct her. And Bella doesn't have siblings so I guess I have to let it slide because she really doesn't understand the concept that I can talk as much shit about Embry as I want and she and Jacob Black just can't.

"Well, just like Sam and Jared and Paul."

And I don't know about Sam and Jared but Paul I met twice and both times he pissed me off but I'm not going to agree with her right now, either out of spite or my desperation to not go out alone. "My brother's friends."

She lets out a heavy breath. "You know what I mean."

"I don't," I tell her in a sweet-coated voice that tastes as fake as it sounds. "Just come. You haven't spend like, any time with me ever since you started hanging out with Jacob." I almost feel bad for pulling that card on her from the way she flinches at the words but it's true, and she did the same thing when she became infactuated with Edward Cullen. I don't bring that up to her, but I think she knows it's a pattern of hers. "It's literally just like, one night too. And it won't even be that bad. It might even be like, I dunno fun maybe?"

"Wow, Tate, you're really fucking selling that," Moon says as a greeting, slamming her lunch tray down on the table and sitting in between me and Bella. "What super cool and super fun outing have you planned this time?"

Bella's face twists like she's uncomfortable. And I get it, Bella's crowd's more Angela Webber and her little group and Moon is just a lot for a person. "I'm trying to convince Bella to go to a bonfire with me at the res."

Moon stabs a vegetable with her plastic little fork and says, "Will your brother be there?"

"Yeah, he'll be there."

"I'm going. Your brother's hot and I have the weekend off."

I turn towards Bella and give her a little suggestive shrug. "Mooney's coming."

"You don't even want to go!"

"Yeah, but now I have to," I argue back, thinking that spending my time around unnamed band was making me just a little bit better at arguments, "because Mooney's coming and she can't go alone. She doesn't know anyone there and it'd be weird. I'm not gonna bail on my friend like that."

"Yeah, Bella," Moon says, mostly uninterested and unfocused. And I think that maybe she just likes to mess with Bella Swan a little bit. "You never hang your friends to die out like that. Even if they are as annoying as Tatum."

The girl in question looks around the cafeteria like she's looking for a way out and I notice the way her eyes stop and hover over the old and empty Cullen table and she says in defeat, "Fine."

aaannnndd we're back! this story's not abandoned dont worry just a slow work in progress. and im sorry this chapter is shorter just trying to get back into the swing of things. also here's my oc zodiac reveal for my astrology nerds: tatum is an aquarius sun with a virgo rising and a leo moon. i hope u enjoy this chapter ! im absolutely loving the band dynamic and i cant wait to write more abt it and that subplot. what do u think of it! do u hate it or is it also fun for u. just let me know ! kk i love u bye