Rocketman

I bolted down the hallway, not caring about Mr. Calin, or math, or detention. All I cared about was finding out where Nicole was going. There was just something about her, how much she seemed to know about me when I knew nothing about her, maybe, that made me unable to let her go.

I saw her turn towards the theatre. "Nicole!" I shouted after her. "Nikki!" I tried again, but she'd gone inside. I followed her into the theatre and sat in a seat close to the door. After a few minutes, she headed backstage and came out with a guitar.

Sweet! I knew one more thing about her. She was in band, and she played guitar. I'd be on look-out for what she played next period.

I recognized her chord progression pretty easily; A minor, F, C, and G. It was actually rather neat. The sound was melancholy, way too melancholy for G and F. And the slower tempo made it really relaxed and really sad. And then she sang.

"I hope you're somewhere warm and white, like the flowers in your car, but you've escaped this labyrinth of suffering, wherever you are…"

And then I noticed it. She was crying. Her eyes had gotten glassy by the second line, but now the tears had really started to form.

"I have a piece of you," she sang, the tears choking up her throat. I could her it in her voice, the way it quivered, the way her breathing was audible. "Tucked away deep inside my mind, memorized of your poetry, and drinking your cheap wine…" she sang, the tears finally rolling down her cheeks.

"That was amazing," a girl said, walking down the aisle. I think she was a senior, but I can't remember. "Did you write it?" she asked. Nicole looked really nervous. It was almost like she didn't want anyone to know she played guitar, which was weird because who learns to play guitar, of all instruments, and doesn't want anyone to know? And why hide it when you play that well?

"Er, no. Liane Ghram did," Nicole replied.

"Well," the girl said, smiling. "Liane's amazing. I'm Kelsi, by the way."

"Nikki," Nicole replied. That was it. My golden opportunity. I stood up on the arms of the chair and said it, loud and clear, smile on my face.

"And you can call me the Rocketman."

She got that look that let's everyone know you're thinking 'Oh god." And then she screamed, "Jimmie Zara!" I knew she was only looking angry to cover her shock and/or humiliation. There's a difference. "What are you doing here?"

"Embarrassing you," I replied, walking down the aisle to the stage. "Am I right?"

"Yeah, actually, Rocketman. You're a little embarrassing. You're a dork, and pathetic, and you can't hold a marimba mallet right," she said, and then I realized. She was the percussionist playing high octave marimba in the band. I was on low. I looked to my hands, then back to her. "You obsess over Troy freaking Bolton WAAAAY too much. Get your own LIFE, Rocketman, instead of trying to live someone else's!" she shouted. I had been smirking kind of until she had said this. I froze, trying to hide how bad that stung. How precise Nikki had targeted me.

"Nikki," I started, not knowing where I was trying to go. Luckily, Nicole took over.

"Get out," she said, calm as ever. She didn't even blink. She just pointed to the door. "Get out, Rocketman."

"Nikki!" I tried again, but she wouldn't listen to me.

Nikki was just staring at me, pointing at the door. "Get OUT of my THEATRE!"

nikki

Jimmie looked as if he wasn't even breathing. I had torn him apart, shown him the things he didn't even want to know about himself, hadn't I? How could I? Just because he'd seen me play a stupid guitar? Maybe that's why I'm afraid to show my talent. Because all music seems to bring is either the wrong kind of closure, or drama.

"Nikki," Jimmie started, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want to have to feel the way he felt right now. I didn't want things to be fair. I wanted things to be easy.

"Get out," I muttered. I pointed to the door, trying not to cry. "Get out, Rocketman."

"Nikki!" Jimmie tried again, sounding desperate, exasperated, like he was a homeless guy asking for a little bit of my lunch. I couldn't take it. His tone, the way he was staring me down, the things I had said, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Get OUT of my THEATRE!" I shouted. Jimmie just stared me right back, matching my gaze, as if he was trying to break me before I broke him. But I'd been broken for a long time. And the scars and burns on me proved it. Finally, he broke the silence in the theatre.

He seemed to be dictating his own movements, which was kind of weird, but he turned and took a rather large step, said, "Took one big step then I walked away." And sure enogh, the Rocketman started walking down the aisle. "Then I thought of all the things that I wanted to say, I'm always too late, you never got your story straight, I'm always up late, I think I'm everything you hate." Then he turned slightly.

I swear. If looks could kill… But then he shoved open the auditorium doors and walked into the hallway.

"I feel so awkward," Kelsi piped up. I agreed silently. "Sorry, I just came back to pick up my manuscripts. See you later?"she asked. I nodded. "Stop by Free Period, Mrs. Darbus is looking for a few more people for the Spring Musical."

Spring Musical? Huh. Maybe I would stop by.

"Show her that song of Liane's and you're a shoo-in, Nikki. Break a leg!"
Kelsi called over her shoulder, walking towards the door. Soon she was gone, as well, and I was left all alone on the stage, just me and a stupid freaking guitar that lost me my secrecy, my dignity, and the attention of the boy I'd been watching since sixth grade.

"So many things I had wanted to say, and all the ways I could have never said it," I started singing, having no idea what I was doing, or where this was coming from. I just nodded my head to a medium four-four tempo and kept going. "and I was hiding, sure, and I was fighting it all these years, that maybe there was something more, that maybe there could be something there, I'm so unaware…" The last bit just flew out of me once I got it started. I couldn't belive how long I'd tried to convince myself otherwise. How long I tried, how hard I tried to fight the idea, but now there was nowhere left to run.

Nowhere to hid the idea that I was inevitably in love with Jimmie Zara.

I mean, if you think about it, it's kind of obvious. Well, something's obvious. But I don't know what it is. Is it obvious I like him? Obvious he likes me? Obvious he doesn't like me? Obvious he has the personality of a piece of toast and we are totally devoid of any chemistry? Obvious I totally stole that line from a DeviantArt comic about Bella and Edward from Twilight?

It's running through my head, Rocketman, all these questions, the lack of answers, all the ways I'll never know what's hidden behind your brown-hazel eyes, all the waysI keep just embarrassing myself, Rocketman. All the ways I keep hating myself.

"All the ways I could kill myself."