A/N: GOD! What a bitch getting this chapter up was! I know I said I would have it up yesterday, and come yesterday, it wasn't up! I blame the site. I had every intention of posting it that night, and the site was down! It was in read-only mode! Goddamn! And then this morning, the damn thing wouldn't upload! I had to upload a txt format, which takes away all my paragraghs and styles (bold, italic, etc). With a little innovativeness, however, I got things working, and now...here's chapter 8!
Thanks for the reviews, everyone!
Nanners-77: First to review the new chap, how do you feel? Same as before? I was happy to finally update, too. Not being able to update was like...not being able to breathe...well, not that extreme, but still! I'm glad you like the Tomika/Lawrence pairing, and I think everyone here likes the Mullins/Dewey pairing (I'd like to meet someone who doesn't...)
sweetcaroline: They said there were "non-story elements", but they didn't tell me where. Yes, my author's notes did tend to get long, but my chapters were at least three times longer! Which is more than I can say for other author's out there (not you...that may have sounded directed at you, but it's not)! I've read stories where the author's note is like a paragragh, and the chapter is like a sentence. Those stories sucked, and I didn't really read them, actually...I'm glad the Summer/Zack conversation was so powerful...I didn't think it would be. When I was writing it, I was all like, "Are they gonna believe any of this shit their saying..." And then the Summer and her mom thing...let's not open that can of worms yet! I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, but it's up!
closetwriter: I'm sorry tomorrow came with no update. Once again, I blame the site! Man, this site's been pissing me off lately...anyways...I'm glad Summer is getting a little better in your mind, she is my favorite character from the movie. Though, it may be because I just liked Miranda Cosgrove's acting...she was really good, but then they all were. You didn't get the usual over-acting in the movie that comes with child actors, which was awesome.
Swimmerkitti: Yeah, I reached the same conclusion. In fact, in the angry letter I wrote them, I demanded to know their system of checking for abuse in stories. I think what happens is, as soon as they recieve an abuse report, they immediately remove the story without bothering to check out if the story is actually breaking the rule. But I'm not certain...I'd like to know who reported my story, and what they felt was wrong with it.
Alex: I like to make new pairings also. But don't you just get this whole Tomika/Lawrence vibe in the movie? Or maybe that was just me...and don't you just love the actress that plays Tomika (I'd write her name, but I'm afraid I'll spell it wrong...). She was so cute, and a lot of that description of Tomika was what I thought about the actress. She was very soft spoken, and had a lot of soft personality traits. I love Robert Tsai as well! Oh, that makes me so happy that you don't think Summer is mean! God, I thought she was starting to come off as a total bitch...that people wouldn't understand where all her emotion and indecision was coming from.
wyverna: Oh man. You're gonna get me in trouble again, with long A/N and whatnot. OH NO! You're emo! ACK! Well, there's really nothing wrong with emo. Emo has Weezer, and Weezer is great. I'm not so sure about this Jimmy Eats World, though...I'm not very fond of them. And I don't think I've ever listened to Days of Grace. But "Macy's Day Parade" and "When September Ends" are both great songs, so there's no surprise there that you like them. Macy's Day Parade is actually one of my favorite Greenday songs, after Basketcase, and..maybe...before Poprocks and Coke. I have extremely long hair too! But then, I have no fear of being emo...I'm...depends on the day. That is so funny, the whole DJ thing. Actually, Katie and Zack weren't trying to get him to put AC/DC on, they were trying to sneak it in...which...was a failed mission, much to their dismay, I imagine. I've heard the songs they play at dance clubs (why SoR was performing at a dance club, I will never know...) most of them suck. Was his son cute? I'm anti-social too. In middle school, my gym teacher told me, "the girls want to make friends with you, but you're anti-social". I was like, "Gee, that's great for my self-esteem". Shit, it wasn't like the other girls made a huge effort to befriend me anyways. And it's not like I wanted to be friends with all those sluts, druggies, and preps anyways. Yeah, that was a long review, and it kept me thoroughly entertained. And yet, you still needed to post two more. I find that funnier! And I'm totally not bothered by it. If you got more to say, post as much as you want (I need the reviews, and I love hearing from you). I'm totally flattered by your offer to be my beta-reader, but the thing is, when I say proofread, it's just me reading back over my story and making finishing touches. I usually add more detail in places, and change things around. I have a lot of things that seem a little over the top. For instance, in..chapter 3 I think, I changed a band name from Journey to STYX, and in Chapter 5 or 6, I changed something Summer said that made her come off as more of the bitch. I usually don't make a lot of grammar and punctuation errors (though, for some odd reason, my fingers go a little comma crazy...putting them in the most unappropriate of places), and any that you see are usually typos that I missed when reading back over. If I ever consider getting a beta-reader, you are definitely top of my list! I'm glad someone picked up on the cat thing. Did you also notice how Felix's reaction to the two boys was different. Felix was a slight "disgruntled" sitting in Kyle's lap, when he eagerly jumped into Freddy's. Of course, cat's usually go to the person in the room that likes them the least, I guess...well, that's not entirely true, just the one less interested. Long enough reply for you?
Sorry, it's late, guys.
ENJOY!
Chapter 8: You Always Know Your Friends
Summer stood backstage, watching the light display and the boys on stage, dancing to the music, singing energetically. The crowd was screaming wildly and Summer felt herself overwhelm with their hysteria. She thought that she would probably be screaming along with them, if it weren't for one thing. Her mind was on School of Rock. Kyle sauntered up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"Aren't they great?" he cried into her ear, so as to be heard over the music. It was that same group, the one she'd heard in Kyle's car, the one she'd lied about liking, the one that she'd made fun of with Freddy. The Barber Boys had opened for them. She forced a nod, her stomach knotting. She hated to lie. She wasn't even listening to the group on the stage. And she didn't want to be there. And she wasn't enjoying the music, she found it annoying. She wanted to be…she shook her head. She couldn't think about that, about them.
"I need to…get some fresh air," Summer replied, gently pushing her way towards the exit. Her chest was convulsing, and her heart pounding erratically. She couldn't see straight. She threw the door open, and it slammed shut, heavily behind her. She stumbled towards the curb, before falling to the ground. She tugged out her cell phone, glancing the time, then opening her phonebook, scrolling through it. She stopped on Katie's number. Zack had said she should call Katie.
The door slammed open and Summer started, stuffing her cellphone back into her pocket and spinning to see Kyle leaning in the doorframe looking down on her. He seemed concerned.
"You alright?" he asked. She nodded, "You don't look good, is all."
"I'm fine."
"I know things have been stressful for you lately. Your friends have been giving you a hard time," he mumbled, crossing over to join her on the curb, "I really wanted you to enjoy tonight."
"I am," Summer lied. He frowned, raising a hand to brush her hair from her face.
"You're not having fun. Forget about them. If they didn't want you here, don't you think they'd have said something? If it were me, I would have put up a better fight than they did. They don't know how great you are."
"It's not about that," she whispered.
"I'm sorry. It's not my place to…I just don't understand how they can't see what a great person you are…but then…I do love you," he sighed, letting his hand fall. She missed the warmth, where his fingers had trailed. But something felt strange about them. They were so soft, so smooth. They smelled sweet. They reminded her, oddly in contrast, to another young man's hand and fingers. Suddenly, her skin ached to feel that young man's hands against it. She frowned, looking to the pavement in aghast. What train of thought was that? "Summer," Kyle's voice was startling. Enough to bring her back from her stray meanderings, "Do you…want to talk about it?"
"It's nothing, Kyle," she finally replied firmly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Do you want to go home?" he questioned. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. "I'll take you home," he conceded, helping her to her feet.
They reached Summer's house nearly a half-hour later, having spent the time in complete silence. Kyle attempted to make conversation at the beginning, but Summer wasn't feeling very social. Her thoughts kept trailing to things that confused her. Here she was, sitting in the car with her boyfriend, who was perfect in all ways, and she kept thinking about another boy, who was most definitely not perfect in any way. Her mind kept going back to that kiss, that she had done such a good job of completely forgetting before. Had he not forgotten it? Did he always think about it? She blushed, curling her hair around her finger. That was ridiculous. Of all the girls that he had been with, she hardly imagined standing out in his thoughts.
"I'm sorry you didn't have a nice time," Kyle announced, as he stopped in front of the curb of the Hathaway house and put his car in park. He turned to look at her with an apologetic smile, "I'll walk you to your door."
"No, that's alright. I want to sit outside for a while anyways," Summer admitted, giving him a quick peck on the lips and slipping out of the car.
"Summer," he called, and she paused, peering into the vehicle at him curiously, "I love you." She flushed, nodding, and smiling dazedly, before waving good-bye and shutting the door soundly. He seemed to reluctantly drive away, and she sighed, pushing her hair from her face and plopping down on the curb.
It always shocked Summer when Kyle said those words. A million things flooded her mind, a million questions, a million thoughts, a million emotions. Did he mean it? Did he really love her? Why did he love her? Why her of all people did he choose to love? Was she really so special? Her? Special? No.
After what seemed a long time, but couldn't of been more than a few minutes, Summer lifted herself up and dusted off her skirt. She began up the walkway, towards her house, then hesitated, licking her lips. She didn't want to go inside that house. Freddy had mentioned a record store, nearby. She scoured her memory, trying to figure out where it would be. She recalled a small shopping center, down the street a few blocks away, and could almost faintly recollect a small run-down record store inside of that plaza. She wrapped her arms around her body, beginning down the street in the direction of the center. It wasn't too late at night. It had fallen dark, the streetlights had come on, but she could clearly make out several high school aged teenagers. Some she recognized, as kids from her neighborhood, friends of her brothers. A heavy thud in her chest realized that she might run into her brother out there.
The plaza wasn't so far away, and it only took Summer about five minutes to reach it. She crossed the small parking lot, walking along the sidewalk and examining each store she passed. She paused, in front of the well lit shop. The large windows gave her ample view of the many rows of records, the front counter, the ancient cash register, and the bored looking pimple-faced teenager wearing an "Insane Clown Posse" t-shirt and sporting a purple hair-do. She rested her hand on the black door handle, with chipping paint and dirt, before swinging the door in and hesitantly walking forward. The store smelled musty, and there was music playing on low in the background, crackling from speakers propped up high in the corners of the store. She glanced around, and felt somewhat disappointed. Why? Was she looking for someone? A lump formed in her throat. Maybe a blonde drummer?
Summer made her way through the aisles, stopping in the Rock section, and flipping through the CDs. She didn't see any titles that caught her eye, but then, she wasn't really looking. She glanced around the store a few more times, awkwardly, then noticed the purple-haired teen behind the counter was watching her. She smiled somewhat, before looking back down at the CDs.
"Pop is three rows down," the boy stated, and her eyes shot up.
"Excuse me?"
"Pop," he repeated, "It's three rows down. I assume that's what you're looking for. Backstreet Boys, the Simpson sisters, Jojo, Jewel, Celine Dion? They won't be there, in that section. They're in pop, three rows down." Summer frowned, scrunching her nose and looking mortified. Her cheeks flushed. The few other people standing in the store looked curiously to her, and she felt her heart race madly, and that lump in her throat sink down to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to cry, but her stubborn personality wouldn't let her.
"I'm right where I want to be, thank you very much," she spat, letting the CDs she had propped up with her fingers slam back down against each other in a clatter of plastic cracking against plastic. The purple-haired boy shrugged.
"Whatever," he muttered, but his eyes remained on her, and she could feel their hot glare. She continued down the aisle, casually scanning the different titles they had displayed. She could feel everybody watching her, expecting her to suddenly cross over to the Pop section. Then they would smile, or smirk, she knew, and tell themselves they knew all along she was in the wrong aisle. Because she didn't look like she belonged there, browsing those rock titles. She paused, her finger straying on one CD. She scoffed.
"Jesse McCartney does not belong in the rock section," she mused, chuckling slightly. She was startled, when the purple-haired boy was at her shoulder, frowning down at the CDs emblazoned with 'Jesse McCartney' as well, then scooped up the stack.
"You're right," he confided, "These don't belong here." He crossed three rows down, shuffling through the Cds before tucking them securely into the rack.
"They don't belong there, either," Summer told him, and he met her eyes, amused.
"Oh, and where do they belong?"
"With lyrics like his…?" she smirked, before motioning towards the trash bin beside the counter. He grinned, laughing.
"You're right about that," he agreed, heading back towards the aisle where Summer stood and leaning against one of the racks, "What are you looking for?"
"I'm just looking," she admitted, but not for CDs, she silently accused herself, "You're a fan of ICP?"
"Huge. You?" he looked a little cynical of that idea.
"Not really, no. I never really got their style," she shrugged, flipping through a few CDs before landing on something. She lifted it, "Now Pink Floyd," she clutched the 'Dark Side of the Moon' CD in her fingers, holding it out for him to see, "I get." He shook his head.
"First of all," he said, in good humor, "You don't look like the type of person who would get ICP," she nodded her head in agreement to that, "And second of all, Pink Floyd! They completely suck. Their only good album was The Wall, and that wasn't even that great."
"Are you kidding me," Summer argued, "Dark Side of the Moon was their best album, and The Wall was simply put, AWESOME! You can stick ICP with Korn, Disturbed, and Linkin Park."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" the boy stammered, "ICP with Linkin Park? Take that back."
"Nope," Summer grinned, "Not until you admit that Pink Floyd is one of the greatest rock bands ever."
"I don't know why I'm wasting my time talking to a teeny-bopper like yourself," he rolled his eyes, heading back towards the cash register, "You're obviously a trendy, and rock must be in right now. Not that I'd know, I don't follow trends. What do you know about rock, anyways?" Summer could feel her heart twang with excitement, as though this were the SAT's she had spent her entire life studying for. She took a deep breath.
"Well…I know that Pink Floyd was originally started mid-1966, and received a great deal of success with their two singles and the release of their first album in 1967, The Piper At The Gates of Dawn. The band was founded by Syd Barrett, who was later replaced by David Gilmour in 1968 when his eccentric lifestyle and drug abuse became too much for the band to deal with. He later went on to a less-than-successful solo career and wasn't officially a part of the band when it amounted to rock hall of fame material in 1973 with the release of Dark Side of the Moon. How you can say Dark Side of the Moon is not their greatest work ever is beyond me, seeing as how it holds the record for remaining on Billboard's Top 200 Albums list the longest, 723 weeks," the purple-haired boy paused, turning back to her in shock, but she took no notice, "All of the lyrics on Dark Side of the Moon were written by Roger Waters, who later left the band as well. I mean, he revolutionized it as a…in the words of Nick Mason, 'meditation on the causes of insanity'. I suppose that was back when real hardcore rock was more than just screaming in a microphone about how life sucks and people are all so fake.
"Also, it's the fourth best seller rock album of all time, right behind "Thriller", "The Saturday Night Fever" Soundtrack, and Fleetwood Macs "Rumors". Well, honestly, I can see Thriller, and Rumors outselling Dark Side of the Moon, but the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack? Please! Ack, the 80's must have done that! But really, just admit it, ICP has nothing on Pink Floyd."
"Whoa," the boy murmured, leaning heavily against the rack and peering over it at her in awe. She looked rather smug. "Can you do that with any band, or are you just a Pink Floyd nut?"
"I know my rock," Summer shrugged, "Want to hear about AC/DC? Aerosmith? Fleetwood Mac? Maybe the Beatles, the Who? The Ramones? The classics are easy. I've got notes on all rock, from psychedelic, punk, heavy metal, emo…"
"But you're not a big fan of ICP?"
"No," she smiled, almost apologetically, "I just don't get them."
"If it weren't for that," he admitted, "And you're wannabe prep attire, I think I'd actually respect you." Summer blushed, pressing her lips together, folding her arms over her chest. She knew, for this purple-haired boy, that was the closest thing he could come to a compliment.
"I guess I can take it back, then. You're right, ICP does not belong with Linkin Park. But Limp Bizkit on the other hand…"
0-0-
Marta weaved her way through the crowd, leaving the girls; Michelle, Eleni, and Alicia behind to giggle and chat. She'd excused herself, saying she needed to use the restroom, but as she passed the dirty door with the 'woman' shaped symbol decaled at the top, she realized that was a lie. They'd been talking about a particularly cute young man seated at the bar. He was obviously in his early twenties, and in Marta's mind, way too old for her. She passed Zack, Frankie, Billy, Gordie and Katie sitting around a table laughing about something. Marco and Leonard were probably in the back, handling their equipment, or out on the dance floor. She didn't dwell long on it as she saw a recognizable form slip out the back door. She paused for a long moment, staring at that heavy metal door, EXIT glowing green above it, before taking a deep breath of the smoky alcohol atmosphere, and walked out the door as well.
The EXIT led to the side alley way. It was dirty, black pavement, there was a large green dumpster filled over to the side, and further down led to the backside parking lot, where Marta knew the band's van was at. She glanced around, shivering as a slight blast of cold hit her bare flesh, and wrapped her arms around herself. She stepped down into the alley, then paused as she heard a sound. There was a crash, and glass shattered. She jumped when a half-empty bottle rolled from behind the dumpster, and an all-too-familiar blonde stumbled out after it.
"Freddy?" Marta greeted, feeling a smile slide into place along her lips. He looked up, slightly confused, a little dazed, and his eyes fell on her. He wasn't smiling, and she felt her own lose hold. He looked back down at the bottle and her eyes trailed after. He picked it up, before she could examine it too closely, and rubbed the dirt off the mouth before taking a drink. He backed up to lean against the brick wall and frown Marta's direction.
"What's up, Blondie?" his words seemed firm, and that boosted Marta's confidence. At least, she thought, he wasn't drunk.
"Just wanted to see how you are," she replied carefully, taking a step towards him, "You disappeared for a while."
"How you could notice, scouting out guys like that," he mumbled distractedly, taking another sip of his drink. Her heart gave a quick skip. He'd seen her looking at other guys. Was he jealous?
"Eleni was 'scouting out guys'. Not me," she piped, hoping that would gain a smile of approval, or at least a glance her direction. He simply took another drink.
"Whatever," he muttered, "You'll get a boyfriend, or she will, or any of the others, and leave too."
"That's not true," Marta protested, then frowned.
Another chat about Summer. Was that all anybody in the band could think about? She balled her hands into tight fists, and felt a flash of hate in the, as things were going, soon-to-be-ex-manager's direction. She didn't want to talk about Summer with Freddy. This was a rare moment in time, that she had alone with the drummer, and she sure as hell was not going to spend it talking about another girl. Especially one that, Marta felt, had betrayed both of them so deeply. She was startled back when a crash resounded from the dumpster. Freddy had thrown his drink away. Feeling daring, suddenly, she came to lean next to him and their shoulders brushed. She felt lightheaded. She could smell him, from where she stood, and she turned her head his direction. He was taller, though not by much, and was staring off, at the wall across from them, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed.
"I hate that fucking bastard," he muttered.
"Summer?" Marta stammered, shocked that he would refer to her so obscenely
"No. Her boyfriend," he clarified, "I don't understand what she sees in that asshole."
"I don't know," Marta mumbled, it was a lie. She knew what Summer saw in Kyle. He was cute, charming, sweet, charismatic. He knew exactly what to say to a girl to make her feel special, and he never half-did anything. When he loved something, he went all out, with a passion. It was an admirable trait, in most girls' eyes, who were often faced with boys that had no idea what they wanted.
"I hope she's having the worst night of her life," he spat, "And then, I hope Kyle gets in a car wreck and…"
"Freddy, don't say things like that," Marta cried, "Summer's still our friend. And we still care about her…don't we?" He shrugged.
"I didn't say I wanted her to be in the car when it happened," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the ground. For a frightening moment, he realized, he hadn't said he didn't want her to be in the car either. "Tonight sucked. And it's only a glimpse of things to come…"
"You don't think Summer will stay with us, do you?" Marta surmised.
"I know she won't," he hissed, "How are we going to compete with that bastard? He gets good grades, he has that car, he's got that fucking record deal, and he always knows what to say to make her smile. Even when they fight, they're not fighting. It's just…sickening. The way he gets mad and she throws herself at his feet, begging him not to hate her. At least before he came along, when she got in fights with other people, she had a fucking backbone."
Marta was silent. She, like the rest of the band, had heard from Zack and Katie bits and pieces of what had happened that past Tuesday. But hearing it from Freddy was bothersome. She wondered how he felt knowing Kyle specifically asked Summer never to see him again. Not the entire band, just Freddy. It was understandable, after the Freddy and Greta ordeal, but still disconcerting. Summer and Freddy had been friends a long time, as had all of the band members. Kyle didn't understand their relationship. He didn't understand that Freddy wouldn't do anything with Summer, for fear it would jeopardize School of Rock entirely, which everyone knew, was extremely important to the drummer. But then, there was something in his voice, the way he spoke about Kyle. As though, it weren't the band that couldn't compete, but Freddy himself.
Freddy trailed off after awhile, muttering a few inaudible things under his breath and Marta leaned in closer to him, soaking up his body warmth and scent. Musky, slightly sweaty from the show, but there was an underlying sweetness, as well. A bittersweet.
"Don't think about it so much," she whispered softly, "Forget about it for the night." Finally, he glanced down at her, as though just realizing she was there.
"Yeah," he murmured, gaze falling to the pavement. He turned to face her, still leaning heavily against the brick wall.
"Tonight wasn't so bad," Marta went on quietly, nervous, "The party in there is really rocking. If you forget the music…the bad lighting…the smoke dampened room…"
"Yeah," he smirked, somewhat, at that. They both chuckled, lightly.
"I guess it could be better…but then it could be worse…"
"Hey," he mumbled as though readying to ask a question, and she paused, looking to him inquiringly. He moved quickly, leaning down and swiftly catching her lips with his own.
At first, Marta was startled, shocked, and almost pushed him away. But then, as her brain caught up with her heart, her eyes drooped, squeezing shut, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders, curling her fingers in the cloth of his sleeves. He brought his arm around her waist, drawing her forward, against his chest, and brought the other hand up to run through her hair and caress the back of her head, near the base of her neck. He was quick, skilled, parting their mouths, lacing her teeth with his tongue, and she was too stricken with her own lust and hormones, to even begin to realize what was happening. So she accepted it. Eagerly. She wasn't inexperienced, returning the rough maneuvers with those of her own, slipping her hands down to rest on his waist, to slide between the buttons of his shirt, to touch his flesh, pressing closer, moving her mouth, letting him take the lead, but choosing the dance.
Finally, Freddy broke away, leaving Marta breathless. He chewed his lower lip, feeling satisfied, and almost leaned in to continue where they'd left off, when he was jolted back. She was blonde. He stepped away, releasing his hold on her, his heart pounding, and all the blood drained from his face. Of course she's blonde, what did he expect? The answer to that questions was too much for him to handle. Marta met his eyes, obviously confused. She stepped forward and he pulled away. She looked hurt.
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling guilty, uncertain, afraid. What had he just done? "I…I'm drunk. I didn't…I'm really sorry." He turned, abruptly, taking off down the alley out of the parking lot.
"Freddy, wait!" he faintly heard her call after him, but disregarded it. He slowed down, once he hit the street, to an aching stroll pace, breathing heavily from the short sprint and the heat of his recent excursion. He wiped at his forehead, surprised to find it slightly damp. He had to get out of there. He thought of Marta, sickly. He really had to get out of there. Aimlessly, he began down the road, his mind rolling with aggressive thoughts, each one more horrifying than the next, and he let his feet do the walking.
0-0-
Katie leaned over the sink in the restroom, running a finger under her eye to smudge the freshly drawn-on dark black liner. She frowned, at how faded and smeared her make-up was. She could still hear the music, of the dance club, roaring outside the door, but it was slightly muffled, and barely perceptible in that dirty tiled room. She smiled, half-heartedly, at a decked out punk girl who grimaced her direction while heading back out to the party.
Which left Katie alone.
The mirror was cracked, and that broken line ran across the reflection of Katie's face, splintering her image in two. How befitting, she thought. Here I am, torn in two, and somehow, the mirror knows. Mirrors never do lie, I guess. She flicked her purse open, shoving her make-up back inside; the powder compact, the eyeliner, the lip gloss. It clattered in, sounding loud, reverberating against the tile into her ears. Never had she felt more alone.
Suddenly, Katie's legs couldn't hold her anymore. She stumbled to the corner, the far wall, before sliding to the ground and dragging her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms about them. She buried her nose in the crook of her elbow, between her leg, smelling the canvas of her jeans, the sweat from her performance, the smoke and alcohol of the party, the Rock that clung to her so comforting, familiar, and distinguished.
It took a lot of guts, and nerve, for Katie, to make that promise with Summer. We'll still be friends. Laughing out there, alone, with the guys, was what was comfortable for her. She'd always been just one of the guys. She very rarely got along with girls. They thought she was stuck-up, because she was so quiet. They thought she was a slut, because she got along so well with the boys. They thought she was stupid, because she never raised her hand in class. And what's worse, they thought she was a lesbian, because of her shy, almost tomboy personality, and lack of 'boy-craziness'. And never did the girls miss an opportunity to tease her for any of it.
Sure, Katie got along with the other girls in the band. Marta, Eleni, Michelle, Tomika, Alicia, all spoke to her, smiled, laughed with her sometimes. Because they knew she was none of those things. But no one had ever truly accepted her for all her faults and fallbacks like Summer had. She remembered standing alone, after one of the gigs, the boys leaving to some show-off endeavor of some kind or the other that she refused to participate in. The girls were all standing in one corner, watching the boys, laughing uproariously, and talking about what "James so-and-so" or "Nick what's-his-name" did in class the other day. It was the last time she remembered feeling so alone and left out.
Summer had approached her, passing a can of unopened soda over. Boys are so stupid, Summer had confided in a tone that suggested she found it endearing, and Katie had nodded agreement.
Why are you standing here alone, Summer had continued, and Katie had shrugged.
The guys all took off and the girls are chatting about…uh…girly stuff, Katie had explained.
I know what you mean, Summer had laughed, settling into a place next to Katie, Why do girls feel the need to talk about guys, clothing, make-up, and all that junk all the time? I don't understand it. There are so many more important things to consider.
I bet they don't even realize that they're just giving in to the male chauvinistic idea of what a woman should be, Katie had muttered angrily, then blushed furiously. Before that, she had kept her feminist ideals to herself. It only added fuel to the 'Katie is a lesbian' fire. She had no problem with homosexuality, it was just that, she wasn't. Why give them one more falsity to tease her over? And it really wasn't fair to the homosexuals out there.
, Summer had laughed, settling into a place next to Katie, Katie had muttered angrily, then blushed furiously. Before that, she had kept her feminist ideals to herself. It only added fuel to the 'Katie is a lesbian' fire. She had no problem with homosexuality, it was just that, she wasn't. Why give them one more falsity to tease her over? And it really wasn't fair to the homosexuals out there.But to Katie's surprise, Summer had eagerly exclaimed, Tell me about it! And those magazines they read, CosmoGirl, YM, and all that…propagandist bull enforced by…who else? Men! The only magazine I've ever respected was Seventeen, it puts in all those articles that are important to women, talks about the issues, and keeps the fashion and make-up tips to a minimal. It encourages women to think about more than 'how to please their man'.
And they use models that aren't the so-called 'perfect' body size and appearance, Katie had cried, and both had exchanged a look, knowing then and there that they had found a twin heart.
You know, Katie, Summer had mused, Us feminist need to stick together.
And from that moment on, they had.
Until now, as Katie sat alone on a grimy bathroom floor, with music pounding at the chipped white-paint door, and her misery spinning wildly around her head, and pounding ferociously in her chest. Summer won't choose Kyle, Summer won't choose Kyle, Summer won't choose Kyle, she chanted in her head, as though the repetition would make it true. But after the past two weeks events, something deep inside of her said, "but then, she probably will". And if not Kyle, then someone else. Because, she wants to leave. That harrowing thought wormed its way into Katie's brain, and a strangled sob escaped her throat, tingling down her spine and settling into her lungs. She curled up, around her knees, around herself and cried. She didn't notice the people that passed in and out, engulfing herself in darkness. She didn't even feel them there. Because Summer was leaving. And she was alone. She was so, truly, alone. When a soft hand touched her shoulder, she didn't notice it. It wasn't there. She wasn't there. She was in herself.
"Katie?" Alicia whispered softly, etched and quavering with concern, "Girl, what's wrong?" But the words didn't reach the bassist's ears, nor did the quick scuffle of feet as Alicia left in a hurry, nor the soft slam of the bathroom door, and it didn't register that the hand, that was never there anyways, had left her. She was in too dark a place.
It was a time later, the door opened again, carefully, tentatively. There was shuffling, as a figure, very aware of how little it belonged there, crossed over to Katie, and knelt to the ground. Another hand, that wasn't there, touched her shoulder. Then moved down her back, massaging it gently. This hand was different, warm, strong, and uncertain. It worked her forward, into equally strong arms, so that she was nestled against a soft and comforting chest. She buried her face, into the scent of sweat and smoke and alcohol and, oddly, peppermint. Arms encompassed her, holding her protectively, but awkwardly as well.
And Katie cried for as long as she could.
Then her sobs broke into soft sniffles, and heaved gasps. And as though waking from a trance, she was back, her head settled against the chest, her eyes closed. Her make-up was now, undoubtedly, a lost cause. She didn't need to look, to know who held her.
"Zack," she whispered, her voice a frog-like, sob induced, croak. He said nothing, just shifting slightly. "I…I can't…I want…" but her words wouldn't come. They didn't need to. He slipped an arm, under her legs, lifting her off the ground, the other arm supporting her back. She wrapped her own arms around his shoulders, finding that her head fit just perfectly in that space between his collar bone and neck.
Zack took her from the bathroom, where Alicia, Frankie and Leonard had taken up posts, to keep any unwanted intruders from entering. There was quite an uproar, as a few women were trying to get by. He nodded to them, as he exited, and they let the women pass, though now the aforementioned group was too intrigued and fixated on Zack, forgetting entirely how desperate they had been, only moments before, to get into the restroom. Alicia and the two security guards followed behind Zack, curiously. They kept a good distance away, enough to show that they were concerned, but not too much so as not to seem like they were pressing the matter. He paused, at the front entrance of the club, asking the front man for his and Katie's coats. The other band members slowly crept to his shoulder.
"What's wrong with her?" Michelle questioned, looking a bit worriedly to Katie, whom she assumed was sleeping from the bassist's silent manner, closed eyes, and steady breathing.
"I don't know," Zack admitted, "I'm taking her home." He passed his own keys over to the blonde, finding Katie's car keys in her coat pocket, "Drive the rest of the band home in my car, those who can't fit in the van. I can get it tomorrow."
"What do we tell Dewey?" Frankie asked.
"The truth," Zack shrugged, "He'll be concerned, but it's nothing to worry about."
"Do you want me to come?" Eleni suggested, "No offense, but she might need a girl to talk to…"
"No," Zack said firmly, as Leonard held the door open for him, and the band somewhat trailed out after, "It's cool," he assured them, "I'll take care of her. No offense taken, Eleni, but the truth is, she's more likely to open up to me than you."
The band said nothing. They knew he was right. It wasn't as though he were bragging. Most everyone was comfortable opening up with Zack, talking to him about their problems. Probably because he was such a good listener, or maybe because he had so many of his own, he couldn't exactly judge them on theirs. And even then, they all knew how close the bass player was to the lead guitarist, even if often times, he didn't seem to realize it himself.
They watched as Zack crossed the parking lot towards Katie's car, before shuffling back into the club. So much for enjoying the rest of the night, they thought glumly.
Zack regretted having to shift Katie so uncomfortably as he unlocked her car door and slid her in the backseat, lying backside down. Her eyes fluttered slightly, and she mumbled something. He thought he heard his name, but he wasn't certain. He crossed over towards the driver's seat, and paused, when he saw Tomika and Lawrence standing near Dewey's van, staring blankly at him.
"What's going on?" Tomika called.
"Katie doesn't feel so well," Zack explained hastily, "I'm taking her home." He ducked into the car, starting the engine up and buckling his seatbelt, before turning out of the parking lot. If his mind hadn't been so clouded with apprehension for Katie, he would have thought about how strange it was, that Tomika and Lawrence were sitting outside alone together. And what's more, he would have noticed, how they were holding hands and sitting intimately close. But he didn't notice those things. All that was on his mind, was his friend, lying in the backseat of the car.
Zack was a responsible driver. His father had made him take all the appropriate courses, and then some. And even then, he still had to drive around with a learner's permit for a year, and pass his father's own 'Driver's Test', before he could even get behind a wheel without an adult figure in the car. But now, as he glanced back at Katie, whose head was turned away from him, and he hoped was dozing peacefully, he felt his foot press a little harder on the gas pedal, and saw his speedometer exceed the recommended speed limit.
When Alicia had found Katie, bawling like a child, and completely shut down in the bathroom, she made a beeline for Zack. She passed other band members, even Dewey who was drinking at the bar with Miss Mullins, without even so much as a second glance. He didn't know why she had singled him out, of all people.
Katie needs you, those had been her words exactly. Not, "Katie's crying in the bathroom", or, "Katie needs someone." No. Specifically, "Katie needs you".
, those had been her words exactly. Not, "Katie's crying in the bathroom", or, "Katie needs someone." No. Specifically, "Katie needs ".And Zack didn't question it. He had simply followed Alicia to the women's restroom. She assured him it was empty, and it would be okay that he entered, but he still peered in for a moment, uncertainly and feeling very much like a pervert. At least, that was,until he saw Katie. By then, Alicia had retrieved Frankie and Leonard, telling Zack that he would have privacy. So he strode forward, letting the door shut quietly behind him.
Katie was one of the strongest people he knew. Or at least, she seemed that way, as she was the least expressionistic. To put it mildly, he had never seen her cry. Or show any emotion similar to sadness in any way. Stupidly, he had come to the conclusion she was incapable. But then, of course, she was capable. She was human, like any of them, prick her finger and she bled. It broke his heart, to see her so vulnerable, and it shattered all preconceptions he held of her. He'd thought he'd known her best, but then, watching her curled up on that dirty floor, crying, he realized he didn't know her at all. She'd always been a friend to him, and then, seeing her crying like that, she seemed only a child. But when he bent, to place his hand on her shoulder, he saw her so closely. He saw her skin, a clear complexion, naturally tan. He saw where her hair line began, on her forehead, where the dark black sprouted out and spilled down her back. He saw the line that was her neck, bent forward, running up to meet the base of her head, and falling down along her back. Which was where his hand fell, as well. And suddenly, she was a woman. And never had the urge to protect someone been so strong in him.
And then, Katie was braced against Zack's chest. Crying. Her fingers tangled in the folds of his shirt, his hands wrapped around her back. She always seemed so hard, so rigid, so rough. He was surprised to find how soft and warm and feminine she really was. And then he could feel her. He could really feel her. All the sadness, all the sorrow, all the pain, washed into his body, into his head. And then, she was like porcelain. Frail, brittle, as though, if he held her too tightly, she would shatter into a million pieces. And he could feel the sobs, wracking her spine, and convulsing her chest. And he held her, but not like a friend. Almost as though they were connected, as though he were a part of her. As though he was comforting himself, rather than a separate being. It was all too much, all too weird, all too wrong. He wanted to hold her for as long as she would let him, he needed to get her out of his arms before he figured out what that feeling was in the pit of his stomach. And then the sobs died, and she spoke his name, and she didn't need to speak anymore. He'd surpassed simply knowing her, to understanding her.
The streetlights seemed to blaze down, almost accusingly, at the car. Zack tried to focus on the road, but everything was getting so blurry. He saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, and swerved just in time, out of its path. They honked their horn, angrily, furiously at him, and the driver shouted something out the window. And then they blew past, and he didn't care anyways. He took into account how shaken up he was, and how madly his heart was pounding, and the near-miss, before deciding it was probably best if he got off the road and took a moment to figure out what was bothering him. So he pulled over, parking parallel behind a trashed junker of a car, and killed the engine. He held the keys, loosely, in his hands, laying them against his thigh, and he leaned back, sighing heavily.
Katie stirred slightly. She'd been jostled around, when Zack had dodged the oncoming car, but she seemed relaxed. He smirked. Of course she was. That was how she drove. Recklessly. It was natural for her, to be in an automobile moving erratically, sharply, and quickly. He laid his forehead against the steering wheel, suddenly wanting to cry himself. Suddenly overcome with weariness. He startled, when he felt something touch his shoulder. He was surprised to find Katie, lying on her back, head turned towards him, eyes open slightly, fingers brushing his back.
"Hey, Posh," he whispered, hoping to lighten what he felt was an extremely tense atmosphere, "How you feeling?" Her hand dropped, to lie on the carpeted floor of the car. She looked down. "That bad, huh?"
"You always going to take care of me?" she asked softly. It was meant to be almost joking, but her tone was too serious, her voice hoarse from crying so hard for so long. Her want for him to always take care of her showed through her, what would have been, sarcastic comment.
"Yeah. Sure," he smirked, shrugging, "Whenever you need me to."
"Then, I feel fine," she told him, pulling herself up into a sitting position and looking drowsily out the windows, "This isn't my house." She didn't sound as though she wanted it to be, more like she was simply stating a fact.
"I know," Zack mumbled, then searching for an excuse and taking the least lamest one he could come up with, "Um…you're car is hard to drive…" She smiled lightly at him, before, clumsily, climbing into the passenger seat. They sat in long, drawn out silence.
"Thanks," she said, her voice low, unsteady, "For taking care of me…for getting me out of there…I just couldn't deal with it."
"It's no problem," he assured her, "I don't mind." Another silence. "It was Summer, huh?"
"Hm…?"
"Katie," Zack sighed, "I…you have to…we can't…" he took a deep breath, "It hurts, a lot, I know. I thought we were all so close, I thought we were all friends…no, I thought we were all a family. I guess I should have told her that, when I called her, but then…"
"Huh? When did you call her?" Katie interrupted.
"Before the show," he answered, "That's how I found out about it. She mentioned it, before hanging up. She's just…her thoughts…everything…you were right about her going through some serious shit, Katie. But it's not what you think. You know, she doesn't even think we're her real friends." He clamped his mouth shut, realizing he probably shouldn't have said that, as a contortion of pain crossed Katie's otherwise serene face. She took a few composing breaths, resting a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.
"No, it wasn't you," Katie murmured, speaking as though there were a great lump blocking her throat, "Tell me what else she said."
"I don't know if you want to hear."
"I do. I just said I did, didn't I?"
"Alright," Zack whispered, "I don't know if I want you to hear." Before she could protest, he turned the key in the ignition and started the engine up again, pulling away from the curb and back onto the road. He'd made up his mind, and Katie knew better than to argue with it.
"Zack," she started instead, "Do you remember when you first realized, we were all friends, and not just a band?" He glanced at her, a little confused.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Well," Katie shifted slightly, settling back into the seat, and buckling her seatbelt distractedly, "For instance, when did it become clear that we were sticking together for more than just the music? I mean, even, like, Frankie and Marco, and Eleni, and all of them. We're not kids anymore, they must have realized that their 'jobs' are the kind that most anyone can do. When did it become clear, that, even for them, they could never be replaced?
"I guess I never thought about it," Zack replied.
"Well, I was," she mumbled, "That's what I was thinking about in the bathroom," her voice grew slightly unsteady, but she continued, and Zack listened intently, "I was thinking about when I first realized me and Summer were more than band mates, that we were friends. Maybe even best friends. I just wondered, maybe she hasn't realized it yet. But how could she not? Was it all fake? All the times she laughed and smiled and joked around with us? I know that I was really her friend…but was she really mine?"
"Katie," Zack took a deep breath, "I don't know. Just, don't think about it too much."
"But what if she's right?" Katie demanded, "What if when this is all over, we can't be friends with her anymore, for whatever reason we find. If she leaves the band, will we still want to spend time with her, hang out with her, be friends? Will we even care about her anymore?"
"She asked me on the phone if I liked her," Zack interjected and Katie was taken aback.
"What?" she gaped, heart thudding madly in her chest at the implications of that statement.
"If I liked her," Zack clarified, "If I liked the person she was and if I really thought that I could get along with her, you know, without the band. I've just been thinking about it. And you know, I do like her. I mean, maybe I wouldn't have, if it weren't for the band, but that's because I wouldn't have taken the time to get to know her. But if she leaves, it won't be like the band never formed, I'll still know her. I'll still know that even if she's obsessed with getting good grades, and following the rules, she knows how to break them when it's necessary and how to let loose. I'll still know that her favorite color is blue, and that she hated those little hats you girls had to wear in the primary grades, and that her favorite movie is Dumbo, even though it always makes her cry in the end. Maybe I should've told her that on the phone."
"Maybe," Katie sat up straight, "Maybe we should remind her, or help her realize, we are her friends."
"Katie…I don't know…"
"Come on, Zack. We have to do something," Katie pleaded, "I don't even care, anymore, if she stays our manager or not. I just don't want to lose my friend." For a moment, Zack was completely silent, as he pulled up in front of Katie's house and put the car in park. He turned to look at her, and finally nodded.
"Yeah," he conceded, "I don't want to lose a friend, either. But what'll we do? Talk to her? Tried it, failed miserably. She hung up on me."
"I just wish I knew where all this doubt in our friendship was coming from," Katie sighed, slumping back into the seat. She glanced out at her home, and frowned. "Let's go get ice cream," she suggested, not really wanting to turn in for the night.
"But…what?" Zack shrugged, "Okay. It's your night, I guess."
"But I'm driving," Katie told him, opening the door and crossing over to the driver's seat, "You are way too slow," she told him. He sighed, pulling himself out of the car and making his way to the passenger side. As he buckled in, she tore down the road and he found himself gripping the dashboard and door handle for support.
END A/N: A little...uh...Katie/Zack interaction, and a look at how Katie and Summer became friends. Oh, and the Marta/Freddy thing...I don't really like the two of them together, because I really don't see it, and I like Freddy and Summer together (I'm stubborn that way). I pick out my pairings, and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise! But Marta kind of served a purpose...sort of...I feel badly for her...maybe I should hook her up with someone...hm...who would everyone like to see Marta with (NOT Freddy, obviously...)? Give me ideas, here.
And then, the music thing. I have nothing against Linkin Park, I just don't like them. I thought they were cool when they first came out, this whole techno/punk/rock/alternative mix thing they had going on...but now, all their songs sound the same. ICP, Disturbed, Korn and Limp Bizkit, are all bands I listen to, but I really wouldn't buy their CDs, well, except mayber Limp Bizkit. So if you want to bitch at me about how Summer was, kind of, putting them down slightly (she had respect for them, she just didn't get their style), well, your complaints will fall on deaf ears. Keep in mind, these are the characters opinions...not mine. Sort of. A little of me gets in there, I suppose (with the Linkin Park thing) and also, Jesse McCartney. I apologize if you like him (though I can't see why). I hate him. His song, "Beautiful Soul", or whatever, makes me want to blow my brains out. And his lyrics do suck, that's the first thing I noticed when I first heard his song. He's just singing the same thing every other pop artist seems to sing about a girl. Jeez. And you're probably all wondering, "What the fuck is with all the Pink Floyd references?" I was listening to Pink Floyd's The Wall when I wrote these past chapters. I promise, no more!
Oh, and one more thing: Next chapter is going to involve a little trivia contest between two characters, and I need a few rock band names. Just throw them out there, I'm tired of using the same one's over and over again, but my brain is mush when it comes to rock band names. I've heard all their songs, I grew up listening to all the great classic bands, but I just can't put band names to songs, and all that crap. I'm working on it. If there's one thing School of Rock did for me, it was reignite my passion for classic rock music.
That should be it. Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors. I would love a REVIEW! Drop me a line, I want to hear from you.
Thanks for reading!