Disclaimer: All rights belong to the creators and writers of Julie and the Phantoms (2020). I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
Rating: K+
Chapter 2: Life Can Be So Mean
Julie is just finishing up her homework when she hears the knock on her bedroom door.
"Yeah?"
Her dad opens the door a crack and peers in. "You busy?"
"Not anymore." She sticks her notebook in her textbook and shuts it. "What's up?"
He steps into the room, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes on the floor. Julie knows that stance all too well. He's uncomfortable. Either he has bad news or he's going to attempt to have a disciplinary conversation. Julie can't think of anything she's done wrong lately, so it must be the former.
"I've been thinking…" He finally raises his eyes to hers. "Are you planning to use Mom's studio anytime soon?"
Out of all the things he could have brought up, this is the last thing she would have expected. She's stunned into silence for a moment before her brain remembers how to work.
"Uh...no. Why?"
"I was talking to one of my coworkers today, and she was telling me how they were renting out their basement for some extra money. I realized that none of us are really using the garage anymore, and maybe we could do the same thing. It wouldn't be a lot of money, but you'll be going to college in a few years, and it would be nice to have some money saved up…"
He looks nervous. It's a good idea, though, especially since they've been living under one income for the past year and haven't had much extra money to save.
"Okay."
He frowns. "Okay? You're sure?"
She nods. "Yeah. Why not?"
"Okay, then." A relieved smile breaks out on his face. "Great. We just have to clean it up and then I can take pictures to put on the website." He pauses. "Would you...would you like to go through it? See if there's anything of Mom's you want to keep?"
Julie knows it's not as innocent of a question as it seems. It's a test. Of their entire family, she knows she's taken the death of her mother the worst. For the past year, everyone has just been standing around, waiting for her to break. Julie is sick of it. Of course she was affected. Of course she's changed because of it. But that doesn't mean she's weak. It just means she's different.
"Of course." She forces a smile. "I'll do it right now."
As she stands and walks past her dad, he reaches over and gives her shoulder a squeeze.
"That's my girl."
She heads out to the garage, which is separated from the house by a thin line of trees and a short wooden staircase. From the outside, the garage looks like most garages: rectangular in shape, two large barn doors with a basketball hoop attached at the top, and a dirty window at the very top to let light in.
She pulls open the large barn doors, revealing the inside. The sun is setting outside, the orange rays of light streaming in hazily from the windows covering the entire back wall. There are shriveled up plants set in front of them, casualties of Julie's negligence. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust.
Julie hasn't been out here in months. The first few weeks after her mom died, she came out here almost every day, sitting behind the piano and just talking to the empty air. She always imagined her mother could hear her. After a month, she ran out of things to talk about and the silence became a harsh reminder of the hole in her heart. She covered the furniture in sheets and hasn't been out here since.
Now, as she stands by the covered piano, watching the dust motes drift lazily through the air, it seems peaceful. Not sad or happy, not good or bad. She doesn't feel her mother's spirit in the air anymore and she isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe her mother has moved on. Maybe Julie's abandonment of her sanctuary killed what was left of her spirit.
Whatever happened, this place is ready for a fresh start.
Julie pulls off the white sheet from the piano long enough to shake the dust off of it. She recovers the piano and flips up the locks on the wheels, pushing it over to the side. She moves around the studio, doing the same with the other furniture. Some of the larger things, like the couch against the wall, she leaves, simply fluffing up the decorative pillows and arranging them nicely.
She collects all the nick-nacks, the pens and pencils and tuners and scraps of paper lying around, and sticks them all in a box, which she pushes under the piano. She takes all the dead plants out of the garage and sets them outside the door; she'll ask her dad to get new ones tomorrow.
She heads back to the house long enough to gather a handful of cleaning supplies. It takes her another hour to stack all the loose boxes against the wall, dust all the surfaces, and sweep the floor. There's a huge dustball by the time she's finished, but the garage looks cleaner than she can ever remember seeing it.
She cleans the windows, going through nearly an entire roll of paper towels, and finishes by arranging the few decorative pieces she left up. She's tired and has dirt smudges on her hands and jeans by the time it's all done, but she feels a strong sense of accomplishment.
Julie did something that she couldn't have imagined doing just a few months ago. Maybe she's finally moving on. Of course, she'll never forget her mother, and she'll never not miss her, but maybe she's leaving some of the pain behind.
It's dark when she turns off the lights, shuts the doors, and trudges back into the house, setting all the cleaning supplies and the trash bag in the kitchen. Her dad is making a cup of tea and he turns.
"I pushed the piano and all the extra boxes of stuff into the back corner," she says, moving to the sink to wash her hands. "You'll want to replace the plants, but otherwise it's all set."
"Thanks, mija. I appreciate it."
"No problem."
She heads back up to her room to watch some Netflix before bed. There's a strange feeling building up in her chest that she hadn't noticed while she was engrossed in her work. She can't quite put her finger on what it is. Disappointment, maybe?
But why would she be disappointed? Isn't cleaning up her mom's studio a step in the right direction? She's finally moving on. She should be proud of herself.
No amount of reasoning makes the thought go away. Julie pushes it aside. She's dealt with confusing and negative emotions too much over the past few months. She doesn't have the energy to deal with more.
She's satisfied with where she is in life, especially looking at how far she's come. She doesn't need any doubt right now.
Her phone buzzes as she flops on her bed. She opens it to see a text from Flynn.
How's your music homework coming?
And suddenly, all Julie's confidence drains away. Her music homework. That feeling of disappointment rises in her again and she connects the dots.
Good, she texts back, though it's a lie. Cleaning out the music studio wasn't a victory so much as a physical embodiment of her pushing away any difficult emotions. If she really wanted a victory, she'd actually play music again.
Even just thinking about playing music brings forth an onslaught of painful memories of her and her mom sitting side by side on the piano bench, laughter filling the air as they try to learn songs together.
No, playing music is still off the table. Julie's been avoiding it for months, but now she has to face the truth: she doesn't know if she can ever play music again. When she first stopped playing, everyone gave her lots of grace and understood. Now, though, they view it as unhealthy. Her music teacher, Mrs. Harrison, had been doing all she could to keep Julie in the music program. Julie still does participate in everything but the playing and singing. But they're doing auditions for next semester and the principal and guidance counselors made it clear that if Julie can't play, she has to give up her chair for someone who can.
Julie hates to lie to Flynn about it, but she can't bear to admit that it's still too much. It's embarrassing and belittling. How hard can it be to press notes on the piano? Even if Julie performed poorly, at least she'd still be in the program.
That's her goal, then. She'll try to power through her audition, even if it's terrible. She doesn't even care about what the rest of the class may think. She'd rather play poorly than have everyone think she's weak and pathetic.
Julie checks her planner. She has two days before she has to play in front of the class. She reaches into her backpack and pulls out the music from her folder. She visualizes the keys in her mind and reads over the notes carefully. She can't bring herself to actually practice, but at least she won't be totally sight reading.
She only has to play this once. When she gets her chair, she can fake it from there. Lots of kids do.
But why should she? The thought comes out of nowhere, smashing through her mind. If she can't play music, then why bother even being in the music program? Other than having a guaranteed class with Flynn, what does she get out of music class if she can't play anymore?
Maybe her wanting to be in music class despite not being able to play right now is a sign. Maybe music isn't as lost to her as she thought.
The conflicting emotions clash together in her brain until she silences them by opening up a laptop and starting a show. She's tired of processing emotions. Sometimes she just wants to lose herself in other people's problems.
Luke rushes into the hospital waiting room. Reggie and Alex are already there, sitting on either side of Bobby. Bobby looks a mess, his dark hair falling over his bloodshot eyes, his clothes wrinkled.
He'd been here all day. Reggie and Alex had gotten here a couple hours ago. Luke had his phone on do not disturb and hadn't seen the call, the texts, or the voicemail until a half hour ago. He'd rushed over as fast as he could.
He grabs a chair and drags it over, setting it down in front of Bobby. "How is she?" he asks, reaching out to set a comforting hand on his knee.
"Not good." Bobby reaches up and rubs at his face. "Broken hip, at least. At her age, that can be deadly."
His hand falls from his face to his neck, where he clutches at the dog tags he always wears. His thumb rubs absently over the engraving. Luke leans back, his lips pressing tightly together. Alex and Reggie shoot him concerned looks.
They all have family drama, but Bobby's trauma is easily the worst. His parents were in the military and died in action when he was ten. He moved to California after that to live with his grandmother. She's been his guardian since then, and they grew super close - close enough that she let his bandmates take over her guest bedroom and living room.
When Luke had seen the texts that Mrs. Nolan had fallen down a staircase, he'd felt just as gutted himself as he felt badly for Bobby. Mrs. Nolan has been a lifesaver. When Luke showed up late one night a few months ago with nothing but a backpack full of clothes and his guitar, she hadn't hesitated to invite him in. Since then, she's been like a grandma to him, keeping him fed and keeping the guest bathroom stocked up with anything he might need but won't ask for.
"I'm going to get you some coffee," Alex tells Bobby, patting his arm before standing up. He motions to Luke to follow him, leaving Reggie with Bobby.
Alex waits until they're out of earshot before he starts talking. "Where were you?" he asks.
Luke swallows. "Around."
Alex shoots him a look that lets him know he thinks he's full of crap, but he doesn't press. "Bobby's been totally torn up. It happened this morning and he was alone most of the day. Reggie was at the music store and I was at the park with Willie when we got the news. Bobby was too overwhelmed to text us immediately."
"I can't blame him. He's been through so much already. If he loses her…" Luke trails off. Bobby is almost eighteen. If his grandma died, he probably wouldn't even be assigned another guardian. He'd be on his own in the world. "Does he have anyone else?"
"An uncle in Indiana, I think. Bobby mentioned something about him flying out as soon as he could. I don't think they're close, though."
Luke's worry for Bobby and his grandma is only matched by his guilt. He falls silent as they walk down to the hospital cafeteria, picking up carry out coffee for them all. Normally Luke and Alex would never get Reggie coffee, which above all else shows the seriousness of the situation.
Luke takes an experimental sip out of his cup and wrinkles his nose. He's a bit of a coffee snob (though he can't normally afford the kind of coffee that he likes) and finds it to be less than desirable. Reggie won't care - he's only into it for the caffeine, but it would have been nice for it to be good coffee for Bobby's sake. Bobby is the only other one of the band members addicted to coffee, a habit he picked up from his military parents.
Not that Bobby will probably be able to taste anything. Though it's not exactly a comparable situation, Luke still remembers the first couple days after he ran away from home. Everything he'd eaten or drank tasted like ash in his mouth. The whole world around him had seemed to slow down, the weight of his loss sinking him deep down. Over time he's grown strong enough to lift the burden high enough to be able to see the world around him, but those first few days he'd barely noticed what was going on around him.
Thinking of his parents just deepens his guilt. Bobby and the others have never made him feel bad for running away from home for as trivial of reasons as he did, but he knows they don't exactly understand, either. His parents loved him, they accepted him for who he was, and for most of his life he had a very healthy relationship with them. And not just him - his parents, especially his mom, had practically adopted the other boys as well. His house had always been a safe and secure place for them. Alex and Reggie don't have that, and Bobby had it taken away from him far too soon.
But there's always one thing that parents stubbornly put their foot down about, and what his parents decided to be strict about was the one thing he wasn't willing to compromise on. He had a blowout fight with his mom, said some things he really wishes he could take back, and packed everything he could carry in a backpack and took off on his bike. His parents hadn't chased him down - not because they didn't care, but because they thought he'd come back. He'd had fights with them and run out before, but he'd always come back. Normally all he needs to calm down is some exercise and fresh air, some space away from the argument. Then he can come back with a new perspective and make things right.
But not that night. He wasn't wrong. Sure, he had said some things that were wrong, but his side of the argument wasn't wrong. And he knew his parents weren't about to budge, either. They'd been hinting for quite some time that they didn't approve, but they hadn't outright confronted him about it. So when he ran out that night, he knew he wasn't coming back. No amount of fresh air or space could sway him.
Even now he doesn't regret leaving. What he regrets is the way in which he left. He can still hear the sound of his mother's slipper-clad feet on the pavement as she ran after him, her voice breaking as she called out for him, and the fading sounds of her sobs as he pedaled away into the night. In his anger he'd lashed out at her and said terrible things that no mother should have to hear from her son.
The guilt lives constantly in him. Now more than ever it comes alive, a terrible beast eating him away from the inside. He knows the only way to sate it is to go back home and apologize. He knows his parents will accept it. He knows they still love him. Logically he knows all this, and yet he can't do it. He tries, he really does. He gets to the house and then just stands there, unable to ring the doorbell or knock. It's his stubborn pride, a part of him that he can't override even for someone as important to him as his mother.
That's what the other boys don't understand. They don't have the same pride he does. They're quick to forgive and forget and quick to make things right. They're generous and easy going. They can't fathom why Luke finds it so hard to make amends.
Luke and Alex return to Bobby and Reggie, handing them coffee. Bobby holds it in his hands but doesn't make a motion to drink. Reggie is allowed caffeine so scarcely that he's normally filled to the brim with excitement, but even he just offers a quiet thanks and takes a small sip.
They sit in silence for a long time. The hospital thins out until it's just them, another couple camped out in the opposite corner of the waiting room, and the night shift. Reggie is the first to fall asleep, his mouth open and his head resting on Bobby's shoulder. Bobby still holds his coffee cup in his hand, staring down at the lid intensely, as if it has answers for him. Luke changes positions a few times before dragging two other chairs over and stretching out.
A nurse in her early forties wakes them up around seven in the morning. She's still in her scrubs, but she has a light jacket thrown overtop and her car keys and a travel mug in her hand. She smiles gently at them.
"You guys have been here all night," she says. "Do you need anything?"
Luke sits up and glances around. Bobby is gone and Reggie and Alex are wiping the sleep from their eyes. Alex has the hood of his light pink sweatshirt up and cinched tightly around his head, giving him the appearance of an egg. Under any other circumstances, Luke would laugh at the sight. Reggie stands up and unballs his flannel shirt, which he'd used as a pillow, tying it around his waist.
"Where's Bobby?" Luke asks, glancing around the waiting room. The couple from last night is gone and a few new people have come in, giving them all a wide berth.
"His uncle came around two A.M. About an hour ago the doctors came out and took them into his grandma's hospital room. They're still with her." Alex reaches up a hand to cover a yawn.
"Should we stay?" Reggie asks, tousled his hair. It only serves to make it messier than before.
"If your friend is with his family, then there's no reason for you to stay," the nurse says. "I know you want to be there for him, but you guys have done enough. Besides, the waiting room is going to fill up pretty quickly."
She's not being pushy, but rather giving them advice. Luke is sure she's seen teens like them in the same situation. She's familiar with this.
"She's right," he says. "We should make room for other people. Let's give Bobby some space. We can go to school and come back afterwards."
"I can give you a ride," the nurse offers.
"Are you sure?" Alex asks. "It's probably out of your way. We go to Los Feliz High School."
"It's fine," she assures them, waving her hand through the air. "I'm getting off my shift right now, anyway."
They follow her out to the parking lot, to a white minivan with a carseat in the very back. It's a small one, meant for the oldest child that still needs one. There are papers and candy wrappers strewn about which she apologizes for as they get in.
She hits up a McDonalds two minutes away from the hospital. When she asks if they want anything they all shake their heads, but she still orders them all breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and coffee. Reggie looks like he's about to cry at her kindness, and honestly Luke isn't too far off, either. Luckily Alex is composed enough to give her a proper thank-you.
He gives her directions to the Nolan house. Luke is expecting her to just drop them off, but she waits for them to grab their backpacks before heading over to their high school. The first bell is ringing as she pulls up to the curb.
"Thank you so much," Luke says, leaning forward. "For everything."
She just gives them all a tired smile. "It's not a problem. I have two boys, myself, and I know I'd want them to be treated this way if I wasn't around."
Luke feels like he should do something more for her, but he doesn't know what. Alex and Reggie give their thanks and then the three of them spill out of her car, waving to her as she drives away.
Luke's late to his first class and gets reprimanded, but he doesn't care. He supposes he could tell the teacher the truth - that he was at the hospital all night - and he'd be let off the hook, but why bother? He's already gained a reputation as someone who is often tardy or absent, who causes trouble and doesn't care much about school. He's not sure the teacher would believe him anyway, although he's never lied about why he's late and he owns up to it.
It's not Luke fault. At least, he doesn't mean to be difficult. He's not one of those students that does bad things because they want attention or because it's a cry for help. His brain just has a mind of its own. It wanders and drifts and causes him to forget things and refuses to pay attention in class. Usually its music that his brain shifts to thinking about. Luke sometimes wonders why he even bothers going to school. He's seriously thought about dropping out to focus on music a dozen times. It's all he thinks about, anyway.
There are only two reasons he doesn't: one, is the music program at their school. It's a really good and competitive program. It pushes him to be better, to learn more and faster. And he genuinely enjoys music class. He likes being with his friends and the other students, and he likes Mrs. Harrison and the other teachers. Sometimes they even get local music stars as guests, which is really cool. He knows he'll never get an opportunity like this again, and since he's a senior, he might as well push through the rest of his classes for a couple more months.
The other reason he doesn't drop out is because school is the only normal thing in his life. The rest of his life is in utter chaos. He lives with one of his best friends and his grandma. He doesn't talk to his parents. He spends most of his time writing, playing, or researching music. Outside of his bandmates, he doesn't have any real friends. Outside of school, he has no set schedule. The life of a musician is crazy and disorganized, and he's okay with that, but right now he needs something to keep him from going off the rails. Going to school gives him a sense of normalcy. Within these walls, he can pretend that he's an average teenager. He has school friends that he likes talking to, even though he doesn't hang out with them outside of the building, there are school events he can go to if he craves social interaction - and as an extrovert, he needs to be surrounded by people a healthy amount of the time - and he has a schedule to follow, a purpose.
He knows his true purpose in life is music. He'd rather be a homeless man busking on Hollywood Boulevard than working at some 9 to 5 job while his guitar case collects dust and cobwebs in an abandoned corner of the house. Still, while their gigs are spread apart and they're still in the process of building up a loyal fanbase, it's nice to have someplace to go regularly and feel productive. Besides, school is the best place to start building up a fanbase, especially when there are students like Carrie Wilson to help promote them.
"Luke?"
He jerks his head up, realizing that he's not been paying any attention to class. Once again, his thoughts are drifting, too easily distracted. He glances around to see the entire class, including the teacher, staring at him.
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me what the answer to this problem is?" His teacher points to the point, where some math equation is nearly solved. Luke tries to follow it, but the numbers and letters and the little numbers get all mixed up together in his mind.
"Hailey just said the answer," the teacher says after a moment of silence, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
Luke shakes his head. "I don't know."
His teacher sighs. "First you come late to my class, then you can't be bothered to pay the slightest attention. Why do you even bother coming?"
It's anger, no embarrassment or shame, that wells up in him, but he pushes it down. Luke knows all too well that he has a temper, and he's not about to let it get the best of him. Not ever again, if he can help it. The last time he got angry was the night he ran away from home.
Instead he shrugs and smiles a little, pretending to be one of those teens that don't care about anything. It's a guise he's become all too good at putting on.
"'Cause I have to," he says. "It's the law."
"But I suppose the law doesn't say anything about forcing you to actually learn?"
Luke shakes his head. "Nope."
A few of the people in his class cover their smiles and laughter behind a hand. His teacher shoots them all sharp looks, finally landing on Luke.
"See me after class," he says, and then turns back to the board.
Of course, the rest of the class period passes slowly, each second stretching out to infinity. Luke curses his uncooperative brain. He's not worried about what the teacher is going to tell him, but that doesn't mean he looks forward to a disciplinary one-on-one, either. He's had enough of those. He knows exactly what the teacher is going to say. He's going to try and make Luke feel guilty for disrupting class and ruining the other students' education, even though Luke didn't actually do anything except not know what was going on. But of course the teachers don't see it that way. They don't realize how they're the ones aggravating the situation. Why can't they just leave him alone in class? If he doesn't raise his hand, then obviously he doesn't know the answer. Why do they think calling on him will magically make him a good student?
When the bell finally rings, Luke slowly packs his notebook and folder back into his backpack, taking his leisurely time. Most of the students filter out of the classroom, a few of them patting his shoulder as they walk by and giving him either smirks or sympathetic smiles. A few hang back, pretending to chat in small groups even though it's clear they're just trying to listen in and spread gossip.
His teacher ends up approaching him, taking a seat on the desk in front of his.
"I'm sorry," Luke says, trying to shorten up the lecture. "I'm just not good at math."
"That's not true," his teacher corrects. "You're not good at school. It's not the same. Not everyone is good at learning in this kind of environment."
Luke's mouth drops open. This is not what he was expecting.
"You're in a band, right?" his teacher continues. Luke can only nod. "So you must be good at math. Music has a lot of math in it. You have to be good at numbers and counting to be a good musician."
Luke has never thought about it that way. He isn't quite sure what to say.
"That's not why I wanted to talk to you, though. Luke, I'm concerned. I know graduation still seems pretty far off to you, but if you don't get a handle on things then you won't be graduating. Right now you're failing this class. You have to pass your senior math class, and this is the easiest one there is." His teacher pulls out a piece of folded paper from his pocket. "Here's a list of tutors in the area. I suggest you get one."
Luke unfolds it and stares. There are phone numbers as well as prices. He swallows. "I can't - I can't afford any of these."
His teacher nods, not looking surprised. "Okay. Well, have your parents call me. I'm sure we can work something out."
Luke's chest constricts. He folds the paper back up and nods. "Okay. See you tomorrow."
He walks out of the room as fast as he can without seeming like he's fleeing. How can he ever go back in that room? He can't afford a tutor, he can't have his parents call his teacher, and he can't pass the class by himself. He's not about to admit to the school that he's a runaway. Honestly, he's surprised his parents haven't reached out to the school already. Or maybe they have and they're keeping tabs on him without letting anyone know that he doesn't live with them anymore.
Anxious thoughts consume his mind for the rest of the day until he gets to music class. This is the one place in school where he can always relax. Just being surrounded by the instruments calms him down. He meets up with Alex and Reggie, sitting in their usual spots. Bobby's empty chair is a cold reminder of yesterday's tragedy.
Today is the first day of chair auditions for the next semester. The juniors go first. Luke and Bobby are standpartners, the first and second chair guitarists respectively, but when Nick Danforth-Evans plays, Luke knows he's out for their seats. He's a good guitarist, and not just robotically good. He plays with his whole body, closing his eyes and tapping into the emotional part of the music.
Everyone claps for him. Then Mrs. Harrison glances at her list. "Julie Molina?" she calls.
Everyone's eyes go to the girl hiding in the back of the class, Luke included. He hasn't heard her play in so long that he doesn't even remember if she's good or not. She looks worlds different today than she did at the party - her curly hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes. She sits in a hunched over position, as if trying to avoid notice.
Her lips press together in a thin line and she slowly stands up, reluctantly pulling off her hat and setting it on her seat. She weaves through the chairs, a page of sheet music in her hand, heading towards the piano. The class is so silent that Luke could hear a pin drop.
She approaches the piano as if she's afraid of it. When she finally sits down, she looks over the top of her music at Mrs. Harrison, a desperate plea in her eyes, looking like a suffering animal who's begging to be put out of her misery.
Mrs. Harrison smiles gently at her. "Take your time," she says.
Julie's eyes fall to the piano keys. She slowly raises her arms, her hands hovering over the keys. She sits frozen there for a minute. Luke feels anxious for her. He's not sure if she's scared of playing in front of everyone or if there's something else going on. She doesn't seem like the type to be so deathly stage fright.
Then again, if it's her first time playing in front of everyone in a year, then a little nervousness is warranted.
She suddenly jerks back, pulling her hands away from the keys. Her face twists and she stands up quickly.
"I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I can't."
Mrs. Harrison's face falls. Julie steps away from the piano just as Carrie Wilson stands, looks around, and asks innocently, "Is this where we clap?"
Julie runs out of the room, shoving the doors open. Flynn jumps up, staying long enough to give Carrie a deadly glare before chasing after her. Luke watches the swinging doors, wondering what happened to the girl he met at the party last weekend.
Mrs. Harrison calls up the next person, and auditions continue. Julie and Flynn never return, though Luke keeps glancing back towards the door.
After class ends, all anyone is talking about is Julie. Luke overhears one girl saying, "She hasn't played since her mom died."
"Poor Julie," Reggie says, having apparently overheard the girl as well. "I can't even imagine what she's going through."
"Me, either," Luke agrees. Losing his mom - even though it wasn't to death - was hard enough; he can't imagine losing music, too. Music is the only thing that's kept him going, that's kept him pushing through the pain.
"I don't get why Carrie felt the need to say anything," Alex says, looking troubled. "I know she and Julie used to be friends and had some kind of falling out, but that was just mean."
Luke and the boys split up to go to their next classes. As Luke walks through the halls, he notices Julie standing at her locker. Well, more like hiding behind it. He slows down, wondering if maybe he should say something, but hesitating because it's not like they're even friends. They hung out one time at a party. He doesn't want to come across as weird or anything.
Carrie approaches from the other side, Nick at her side. Julie is about to close her locker but the moment she sees them she quickly opens it again and pretends to be digging through it.
Carrie stops two feet away from her. "Hi, Julie! I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. That must have been horribly embarrassing, crying in front of the entire class."
Julie freezes for a moment. Luke is considered going up and saying something when suddenly Julie slams her locker shut and whirls around to face the other girl. She has that tight-lipped smile on her face that Luke recognizes from the party.
"Not as embarrassing as feeling the need to constantly draw attention to myself," Julie shoots back.
Carrie's eyes narrow. "I'm the one drawing attention to myself? You didn't see me throw a huge fuss after my mom left. Drop the sad girl act, Julie. It's just pathetic. Your mom died a year ago. Get over it."
Julie's eyes harden. "Funny you say that. I think it's pathetic that you go to all this work to pretend that you're over your mom leaving, when obviously you have some serious issues that you need to address, and you take your frustration out on everyone around you. For your own sake, Carrie, I hope you get some help."
She pushes past the other girl and continues walking down the hall. Carrie's jaw is wide open in shock. Nick is half-turned, an expression that looks like admiration on his face as he watches Julie walk away.
Luke himself smiles a little. That's the Julie he remembers. He's be lying if he said he wasn't impressed. He's a boy a grade above Carrie and he still finds her intimidating; he can't imagine how much courage it takes to stand up to her like that.
He wishes he had some of her bravery. He could certainly use it right now.
"Can we, um, talk?"
Alex, Luke, and Reggie share concerned looks before following Bobby to a somewhat quiet corner of the hospital waiting room. His grandma is still in pretty bad shape, so Bobby and his uncle are the only ones allowed to visit her in her room. That isn't stopping the boys from being at the hospital to show their support.
"What's going on?" Alex asks.
Bobby takes a deep breath. "The doctors said my grandma is going to need at least six months of around the clock care, and six months to a year of physical therapy. Even after that, she probably won't be as independent as she used to be."
A shocked silence falls around the group. Luke reaches out and sets an arm around Bobby's shoulder. "Sorry, man."
Bobby nods. "Yeah, well. I haven't even got to the worst news yet. My uncle has decided to move her back to Indiana so she's closer to the rest of the family." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "I'm going with her."
Luke's exhausted and he's had enough shocks today that he can barely register this one. He knows it'll settle in eventually, but he doesn't have the brainpower to fully process this. Alex and Reggie look stunned, though, so Luke is the one who asks the question that he knows is one everyone's mind.
"How long?"
Bobby shrugs. "Whenever she's recovered enough to move. A few weeks, probably. My uncle is going to put her house up for sale." He glances over and catches Luke's eye. "I'm really sorry."
So they'll have to find a new place to rehearse their music. Luke knows the obvious place is his parents' house, but that's just not possible. He can't go back there. He can't go crawling for help because he's desperate. It would just make his apology seem shallow, and his pride won't let him do that, anyway.
"It's going to be okay," he says. "We all have phones. We can stay in contact with you. And we have some money in the band bank account. We'll find somewhere to rent studio space. We'll just have to make sure we do more gigs."
Reggie reaches up and wipes at his eyes. Alex pulls Bobby into a tight hug. When they release, Luke reaches out his arms and pulls all four of them into a group hug.
"We'll get through this," he promises. "We've all been through worse."
