For the next few weeks life was pretty sweet. Fi and I agreed it would be good to keep things under the radar, given that there were folks who'd have Opinions about the two of us. Not just the goons on the basketball team, but also, I didn't want to answer a lot of nosy questions from the Infants of Hellfire. Dustin in particular could be a pain in the backside about this, given the hazing I'd handed him over this alleged 'Suzie' HE was dating.
We were in my room, doing homework—well FI was. I was too busy trying to tickle her toes through her sandals. Everything about this girl was adorable: her hair, her elbows, her long toes . . .
She gave me a patient look. "Grade check—what's it look like?"
"One D, three Cs, a B and an A," I told her. "Our presentation helped there, so it's a 2.2 average, which is better than the last two years."
"Good," she nodded. "You're smart, Eddie. I don't get why it doesn't . . . show up."
"Lots of reasons," I sighed. "Seventh grade I was bouncing between my uncle and my cousin's house in Silver Hills, so I was never sure where I'd be sleeping. Eighth, I broke my arm falling off the trailer roof, so that set me back writing anything—"
"You fell off the roof? What were you—never mind, I don't want to know," Fi huffed, torn between laughing and shaking her head.
"Ninth, I got my first electric guitar, so I was pretty much welded to it, and didn't go to class for a couple of weeks," I admitted.
"That would do it. Gotta BE there if you want an education," Fi pointed out. "So what are you interested in? Like, for the future?"
"The big dream? Ah, that would be to have a world-class, world-famous band," I smirked, looking at the ceiling. Not that I didn't appreciate Corroded Coffin, but as a group, we weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Gareth was already talking about taking computer programming classes at the junior college up the road, and Jeff was getting pressured by his dad to drop bass for football.
"Money for nothing, and your chicks for free?" Fi snickered.
"Yep," I agreed. "Although that's bullshit, of course. Bands take work," I admitted. "Rehearsals, writing new songs, keeping up with other bands, and all the loading and unloading gear. Then there are the insane hours, and traveling . . . not as glamorous as it sounds, but I'd do it. Hell, I'd rather be the lowest most underpaid roadie out there than any job here in Hawkins, and that includes lifeguard."
Start as a roadie, stand in for someone one night, rocket my way to fame . . . yeah sure. Might make for a Journey song, but it's not real life.
"Not a lot of bands passing through this way," Fi pointed out ruefully.
"Nope," I nodded. "Hardly any coming through Indianapolis for that matter. Be better off trying to get studio gigs."
There were a few recording studios, up in Franklin, and Indianapolis. I'd looked into booking one for the band, but the price was steep, and I wasn't sure about what songs we could do.
"Huh," Fi nodded, and moved her feet out of my reach. I pouted, crawling over to rest my head on her knee.
"What's your big dream, Fi? House, kids, white picket fence?" I teased.
"Travel," she told me with a sigh. "Getting out of Hawkins for sure. Maybe not forever, but long enough to see something of the world. After that . . ." she shrugged.
"Nurse, like your mom?"
"I don't have the biology grades for it," she told me, "and I'm not cut out for dealing with blood and guts. Give me a desk and an agenda any day."
"Cool. I'll be the rock star, and you can be my business manager," I decided. "You book the gigs, I'll play the gigs, we'll rake in the money and build the biggest house in Hawkins. A regular mansion, with an entire basement set up for D&D."
Oh man, wouldn't THAT be that fucking life?
"Why stop there?" Fi grinned. "With our fabulous wealth, we can build the Hawkins Aerodrome, and rent the venue out for bands!"
"There you go," I laughed. "Bet all that Starcourt Mall land is pretty cheap at the moment!"
"Yeah," She nodded, looking like she wanted to giggle. "So how many songs have you like, actually written?"
I pointed with my chin to a careless stack of spiral notebooks next to my bed. "As of the green notebook, about sixty-three. Out of that, I've got about twelve that are complete, and the rest are bits and pieces."
Which surprised me. I hadn't realized I'd complied so many. Yeah, sure a lot of them were less than terrific—Songs like Where have all the Waffles Gone, and Horny Again would never see the light of day if I could help it.
Fi pointed to the other stack of notebooks, equally battered. "And those?"
"D&D ideas," I yawned. "I . . . go through a lot of pencils."
She blinked. "Damn yeah—these things are filled! At least let's get your finished songs copyrighted."
"Pffft, can't afford that. It's like, a hundred dollars just to register one."
I'd never actually looked into it, figuring that whatever it cost would be out of my range, and did I really want to drop bucks to publish something as spectacularly stupid as Roll for Perception, Run into Danger.
"That can't be right," Fi protested. "Are you sure?"
"No," I told her, rising up from the floor. "Look, whatever it actually is, I can't afford it. Hell, it took me three years to save up enough for the Demon there—" I waved at my electric guitar, which was up on the dresser like an idol on an altar. "—and that was hard enough."
Fi didn't look convinced, but she dropped the subject.
-oo00oo—
"So . . . that's a no?"
Damn. I hated to let her down, but . . .
"It's your night. If I show up . . ." I told her after she asked me.
Fi sighed. "I get it, yeah. But I wanted to at least ask because, well, I don't do the prom, and . . . you're cute," she teased me. "I have to go, but you don't. It's cool."
I felt like shit. What kind of boyfriend was I? Oh yeah, the kind with no money.
"Eddie, it's okay."
"No," I sighed. "It sucks. I mean . . . it's a big deal for you, Fi. I know you and your team had a good year, and you deserve the applause and recognition. I just . . . I don't want to— " I made air quotes, 'bring a disruptive element to the evening.' You know that's what fat ass Higgins would say."
"Principal Higgins doesn't get to a say in who we invite," Fi reminded me. "And it's fine, Eddie. I just wanted you to know that there isn't anybody else I'd want there more than you."
"Yeah?" God I loved this girl. She said things that just made me melt.
"Yeah," she nodded. "You'd be bored anyway. They do a recap of all the games and talk about each player and vote for a MVP, which we all know is going to Bonnie Carson this year, and then we have like, chicken ala king or something. It's usually bland."
I made a face and Fi laughed, feeling a little better.
-oo00oo-
My luscious Fi had taken to filming me performing, which was kind of silly, but when she played it for us after dinner one night, her mom whistled and said something about going to get a lighter to wave.
I laughed SO hard. "This is NOT happening!" I snickered. "Fi, your mom is embarrassing me!"
"Sorry dude, she does it to me all the time," she commiserated with a grin. "And let's face, it, you're good!"
"No, you're damned good," Mrs. Myers told me. "May not be my kind of music, but I can tell you've put in the time to make the talent, Eddie. You've got what it takes, you just need a chance."
I looked at her, kind of stunned because she meant it.
Like Fi, she fucking MEANT it. I didn't know what to say until she gave me a hug. "Th-thanks," I whispered in this sort of broken voice.
Fi slid over and hugged us too, all of us squeezing together until her mom chuckled and pulled away. "Okay, stop getting your emotions all over me, you two!" she teased. "Ugh! Teenage FEELINGS!"
"Ohhhh, rejected! Nooooo!" Fi giggled and rolled off the sofa onto the carpet. I looked at her like she was a complete loon. Mrs. Myers shook her head and turned to me.
"My daughter, the nutburger."
She said that with THE perfect straight face and-I lost it at that, braying with laughter, collapsing on the carpet next to Fi. Her mom snickered down at us.
"Fi, what are you wearing to the banquet?" Mr. Myers asked. "If it's the green dress, I need to take it in to the dry cleaners before next week, unless you were thinking of something new."
"The green one's got a rip in the hem," Fi said. "I could baste it, but . . ."
"We'll stop in at Clarine's I guess," Her mom told her. "Eddie?"
Crap.
"Oh, um, I'm not going," I muttered, not meeting her eyes, feeling like shit.
Mrs. Myers prodded me with her foot. "Excuse me? Is my daughter not good enough for you, Mr. Fantastic Guitar Soloist? Got a hot model you haven't told us about? Maybe an entourage going to the banquet instead?"
She was being nice, and I almost couldn't take it, because I really did care about Fi and I wanted to go, but CinderEddie here wasn't about to have a fairy Godmother pop up with handfuls of cash.
"It's Fi's night, Mrs. Myers. If I show up, certain other people aren't gonna be happy to see me. I'm not going to do that to Fi, or the rest of her team."
Mrs. Myers looked at me for a moment and she squared her shoulders. "You listen to me, Edward Munson. Certain 'other people' can kiss. My. ass. Lloyd Higgins, Ned Lewis, Ted Wheeler—none of them are worth a minute of losing sleep. You have as much right to go to that banquet as you do to walk at graduation, head high, owing nothing to anyone. I know life hasn't been easy, but by GOD, Eddie, you're tougher and better than they'll ever know. Sooooo for the love of all that's holy, you better let me know what your waist and inseam measurements are before Fi and I pin you down and take them by force!"
I lay there, staring up at Mrs. Myers, looking at her fierce expression and it hit me that she knew what my life was like. I didn't have to tell her, she KNEW. She knew and she was on my side, just like Fi was.
Not gonna lie; it felt hella good.
"Tag-teamed," I protested, but I could feel myself smiling. "Fi, babe, seriously—do you want me to go?"
"Yep," she told me without hesitating. "I really want you there."
And that kind of settled it.