Tainted: Listening to the Silence

TWELVE

Salvador

Recess came and I literally ran out the door, because I was so desperate, like literally desperate. I wanted to be with Ollie, alone, no Ennie, no Em, no Dust, and no Kev, no anyone except for us two, and not necessarily to have a quickie. No, I wanted to talk to him about the singing thing, I wanted him to understand that he didn’t have to sing for us but that it would be great if he did. But, again, there was no pressure or anything for him to take the position as lead singer, not if it freaked him out as badly as he said. We still had Em, and her voice was very good, though I still thought it didn’t sound quite as good with our style.

When I reached his classroom, I stopped and took a few seconds to calm myself, no need for him to know I’d been sprinting around to see him. I was a little out of breath and still had my notebooks in my hand because I hadn’t wanted to waste time in putting them away. I put them in my bag as I saw the people in the classroom begin to walk out, keeping an eye out for Ollie, my heart beating a bit faster.

Finally, I saw him walking out of the classroom and I smiled for about three seconds until I saw his tense face and the way he looked like he needed a break in the worst possible way. Em was beside him and she looked less than happy, and suddenly the tension that rolled off him in waves made sense. Oh God, oh God, oh God, Em was with him, and she was a good friend and all that, but she was nosy and not at all patient and she liked things to go the way she wants them. She probably spent the whole class trying to convince him to sing for Tainted, and when he refused, she’d probably moved on to interrogating him. And I was certain that was exactly what she had done because even though she’d been pissed at me for suggesting we needed a new vocalist, now she wanted Ollie to be our lead singer more than anything.

That was just the way Em was, when she got an idea into her head it didn’t leave for anything in the world and she would do the possible and the impossible to make it happen.

“Hey Sal,” Em said, still giving Ollie the stink eye, who had probably not only refused to sing for Tainted but also refused giving her answers.

I waved at her as I went immediately towards Ollie and grabbed his hand, looking up into his face with a little of concern. He shook his head a little, something that was almost imperceptible and that Em didn’t notice at all, and I sighed, turning back to Em. She really needed to know when to not fight a battle, pushing Ollie into singing for us was not going to get her what she wanted.

“Now that you’re here, convince your boyfriend to sing for us.” Em said, trying to make her voice teasing, but I knew she was serious about using me to get what she wanted. “I’ve tried talking to him but no matter what I ask he only says he can’t and that he doesn’t want to talk about it, like a parrot.”

I shook my head and just pulled Ollie away, not even telling her we weren’t going to the music classroom today, because if I talked, I would probably tell her to go f**k herself and stop torturing Ollie. We walked through the deserted halls until finally I found an empty classroom and went in, closing the door behind me. Ollie sighed and slumped into one of the chairs, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was too tired to keep shouldering it alone.

“What happened? What did she do? What did she say?” I was very worried about how tired he looked and how rigid and stiff his face had become since this morning.

“I’m pretty sure I pissed of some deity. I’m suffering the consequences. Or someone up there felt like having fun at my expense today,” he said bitterly, looking up and squaring me with his almost-brown eyes on me, and I understood he was seriously pissed off.

If anything, that made me worry even more because Ollie was like me, he never got angry, and that Em had managed to make him like this had me wondering what exactly she’d done.

“Why do you say that? What happened?”

Ollie pushed an angry sigh out, as if the emotions inside him were too big, too intense, too concentrated for him to deal with them and he needed to let some of it leak before he could talk.

“They’ve all sought me out today. In these three periods, I’ve encountered every single one of them. And they’ve each pulled a Spanish Inquisition on me. They pestered me endlessly with their nosy questions. Telling me to trust them. Asking why I didn’t want to sing for Tainted even though I clearly sang so well. And every single one of them got mad at me. Because I don’t want to tell them about my past. Because I kept telling them I didn’t want to talk. I told them they made me uncomfortable. But did they leave me alone? No. They pushed. Until I broke down and snapped. And then they got even angrier. Because how dare I snap at them? They were only concerned about me. And maybe I am an ungrateful bastard. But I don’t f*****g want to tell them. Can’t they respect me? If they don’t f*****g like the answer, why in the hell did they ask?”

Alright, so I’d been wrong in my first assessment, saying he was pissed was probably the understatement of the century. They had to have grilled him real hard to have him running on his last pit of patience, and still I couldn’t be angry at them, because I knew they meant well. I sighed and wished they had just let him be, all their good intentions did more wrong than helped, after all the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

“They’re just curious Ollie, you can’t blame them, and believe it or not, they really do worry and care about you. Their nosy questions and insistence proves that they saw what happened yesterday and want to help you, that’s what friends do, you can’t get angry at them for asking.”

Ollie sighed again but looked a little less tense, and I felt happy because I was helping him calm down, I didn’t like to see him angry.

“I guess you’re right. It’s just that I don’t like it when people interrogate me. Or when they want to force me to do something. I’ve had enough of that in my life. If I’m going to do something, it’s because I want to. I’m not going to do it just because someone told me I had to.”

It sounded like there was past involved here too, (and I was curious and worried because, f*****g hell what else had been done to this poor boy?) but I didn’t ask. He didn’t look like all that grilling had made him close completely off, his heart and his past safe under lock and key.

“It’s alright, Ollie, I promise I’ll explain it to them in band practice, I’ll tell them to get off your case and leave you alone. And I actually wanted to tell you that you don’t have to sing for Tainted if you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. If you sing for us, like you said, I want it to be because you wanted to do it, not because I forced you to, after all we’ve still got Em.”

I gave him a smile and went to sit on top of the desk in front of him, needing to be close to him to comfort him and make things better.

“Promise?” Ollie whispered.

I didn’t really know if he wanted me to promise I wasn’t going to force him, or that I’d talk to the guys, or that things would really alright, but I nodded smiling at him. I’d promise him anything and everything, the possible and the impossible, and I would do my damned best to keep that promise. Ollie smiled at me, one of those heart-stopping, d**k-hardening smiles, and tilted his chin a little upward. I wasn’t sure if he knew what he was doing, or if he’d done it unconsciously, but I knew what the gesture meant, so I leaned down and gave him the kiss he wanted.

He kissed me gently at first, sweet little nips and touches, him caressing my cheek, my hair, and my neck. But like always the kisses turned into more, the soft nips and nibbles turning into full out biting and sucking, our teeth clicked a few times, his tongue did wicked things to my body. Finally, though I had to choose between falling off the desk and probably injuring both of us or pulling away and ending the kiss. I pulled away a little out of breath and stared at Ollie, his lips swollen and shiny with our saliva, his eyes half lidded with arousal, the bulge in his jeans confirming my suspicions. My own d**k throbbed in my too tight jeans, but my mind was occupied thinking that I would never have guessed he was like this, he looked naïve and innocent but really, he wasn’t even close to that description.

“No kisses in school,” Ollie whispered, blushing and fidgeting around, probably trying to surreptitiously arrange his d**k in the tight jeans I’d chosen for him this morning. Yeah the tight jean were a bit of an inconvenience in that respect, you had to keep an eye out for boners or you’d end up circumcising yourself.

I chuckled, it was just so cute the way he was obviously uncomfortable but didn’t adjust himself, and they way he tried to set some sort of rule that I wouldn’t follow in million years, and just winked at him right as the bell rang. I got off the desk, adjusted my d**k so it wasn’t as obvious and it didn’t hurt that much, which made Ollie blush even more, and grabbed my bag from where I’d thrown it when I went into the classroom.

“Tip for the future: don’t try to make up new rules for me to follow, you’re just tempting me into being my usual rebellious self and breaking them. But now that you’ve made this one I am honor bound to break it, as often and as many times as I can, keep that in mind.”

I gave him one of my devilish smiles and Ollie’s blush spread to the very roots of his hair, I chuckled and grabbed his hand. He quickly moved his d**k around, following my example and throwing shame out the window when it was just the two of us, making his erection less obvious, before I dragged him out of the classroom and into the halls. I walked him to his next class and wanted to kiss him or something but decided against it, the stares we got at just holding hands were enough to have Ollie fidgeting.

I squeezed his hand and he focused on me again. I smiled at him and wrote on the palm of the hand I’d been holding, “c u,” before turning around, waving, and making my way to my classroom. As I walked through the halls I saw Dust walking a few steps in front of me and remembered we had the next period together. I walked up to him and poked him, he jumped about five feet away before he saw it was just me, and then he held his heart and took a deep breath.

“You scared me, man!” Dust said, still holding the place where his heart was, then he seemed to remember something. “Where were you and Ollie during recess?”

I smiled and winked at him and hoped he got what I meant because I wasn’t explaining, at least not here, and I was feeling too lazy to take out my note pad. Dust looked a little confused at first, and I rolled my eyes at him, he was so obviously a virgin that it was sad really.

“What?” Then it seemed to dawn on him. “Oh. Oh! I get it, I get it. You could’ve texted us or something, man. Em waited for you to show up so she could grill Ollie a little more. I can’t really blame her. Everyone saw him have that panic attack, and then run away like we’d kill him or something. I’m kind of worried about him, because panic attacks aren’t cool at all you know,” he said getting serious.

I shook my head, all the reasons why they shouldn’t pester Ollie running through my mind, but he wasn’t Ollie, who could read my face, so I took out my note pad.

“Don’t grill him anymore guys, really, you’re making things worse, he was really angry, and it was very hard for him to bottle it and not take it out on you. If he doesn’t want to sing, then he doesn’t, and you should respect his wishes and his opinions instead of trying to force him to see things your way. So just stop it, okay? It’s very complicated, and very personal, and it makes him very uncomfortable to be questioned and put on the spot. If he wants to sing with us, then he’ll do it when he’s ready and because he wants to not because you forced him into it.”

That took me a while to write on the notepad and occupied a few pages and I had to pause at every page I turned so Dusty could read it.

“That’s cool, I guess,” Dust said, shrugging, but I got the feeling that he wasn’t okay with the arrangement, not at all, but didn’t want to say anything else.

By then we were already in the classroom, occupying neighboring desks, and Dust took out his notebook while I took out my music player and my headphones. With my longish hair and the hood of my jean jacket, you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to discover a good way to hide the headphones. I put one headphone in discreetly and pressed play, Benjamin started singing in my ear and I pretended to pay attention when I wasn’t really. I got lost in the music, daydreaming about Ollie and kissing and s*x, but then I felt like someone was talking to me. I opened my eyes and looked around, taking off the headphone, which was probably a mistake on my part. The teacher stood right in front of me, and he looked very, very, very pissed probably because I’d been listening to music in class. He didn’t say anything at all, he just extended his hand imperiously, as if waiting for me to hand over my music player. Right, there is no way in hell I’ll do that, so instead I grabbed just the headphones and gave them to him.

“The whole thing Salvador,” the teacher said and through gritted teeth, as if that would bully me into handing over my precious music player for him to confiscate it.

I raised an eyebrow and I think it was loud and clear, without me having to talk, that I had no intention of giving him my music player.

“Salvador. Now,” he said sounding even more pissed off, trying to inject authority into his voice in hopes that would somehow make me comply.

I just stared at him with a blank look, I’d probably get into trouble, but teachers never really represented a threat to me. I mean, when I was little, they did, but when I grew up and realized they couldn’t do s**t to me or they’d go to jail, they stopped being scary and started being stupid judgmental bullies.

“Salvador give me your phone or music player. Now. This is the last time I’ll ask for it or you’re getting two weeks of detention.”

I just continued to stare at him, waiting for him to get the clue that I didn’t care one way or the other I wasn’t going to give him anything. Oh no, detention, so scary, as if I hadn’t spent about half of my life in the damn detention classroom, as if the guitar there was tuned perfectly to my tastes. The teacher’s jaw clenched and he looked about a second away from killing me, and I arched my eyebrow at him, daring me to touch me and give me reason to get him fired. There were a few snickers around the room and the teacher turned to glare at the classroom before turning back to me.

“Go to the principal’s office. Now,” he said turning back around and going to the front of the classroom again, where he pointed imperiously at the door.

I just shrugged and grabbed my stuff, waving goodbye to Dust and following the teacher to the principal’s office. Once there, he practically knocked the door off its hinges from the force of his knocks, and I wanted to ask what had the door ever done to him. The principal called for him to come in and the teacher again practically shattered the door’s glass when it hit the wall beside it.

“What’s the matter now Hiles?” The principal asked sounding tired.

“This… This… student was listening to music in my class and when I asked him to give me the device player he just gave me the headphones. I asked him repeatedly to give me the music player or the phone and he just refused to give it to me and refused to answer, mocking me in front of the whole class,” the teacher said, pacing the room and waving his arms around, which I actually had to dodge a few times.

The principal looked at me and he sighed, probably because he was tired of seeing me his office, but there was nothing I could do about it.

“That’s enough Hiles, go back to class,” the principal said.

The teacher nodded and went to leave the office, I looked sadly at my headphones, thinking that I probably wouldn’t see them for a whole month.

“Oh and Hiles?” The principal added before he could leave, making the teacher turn around, “Give me the headphones.”

The teacher looked even more pissed off that his plans to confiscate something of mine for two months were thwarted, but he gave them to the principal either way. Once the door was closed, the glass rattling dangerously from the force the teacher had used when he left, the principal sighed again. He took out my school record, which was like a huge, huge, huge folder, and my eyes widened at the sight of it because last time I was here the folder hadn’t been that full. Did I really get in so much trouble? The principal saw my surprise and snorted, though it was forced, as if he really didn’t feel like laughing.

“This is your third folder,” he said opening it.

Jesus the f*****g Lord Christ, that’s a lot of trouble, and I knew I wasn’t the perfect student, but I’d never imagined the size of things. How did I get in so much trouble in four years?

“Is it true you were listening to music?”

I nodded because it was true, and it had been a mistake on my part because I knew that you couldn’t use electronic devices during class, so the teacher was right about that.

“Why?”

I just shrugged, I didn’t feel like telling him that I’d already read the courses books and knew what we were currently studying in class and what we would study during the whole year.

“Is it true you mocked him?”

I just snorted, arched an eyebrow at him and shook my head as I opened my arms wide, palms facing up, in a gesture that meant to ask him how I could mock a teacher if I didn’t speak.

“Then why did he say you were mocking him?”

I shrugged again, I don’t know, maybe because it was so much fun to pick on the weak kid that won’t defend himself? Maybe because he was a shitty teacher, and shitty teacher like to lie to cover their mistakes instead of accepting their part of the fault. Maybe it was because of my attitude but then again, they made me like this, or because of my moms but, well, I can’t help that, or maybe it was because I was different but that was just plain stupid. The principal sighed again and took a sheet of paper out of one of his drawers, and I knew what followed, I’d have to recant my version of the story, the teacher would write his and that would go into the fat folder.

“You’ll have two weeks of detention, Salvador.”

I just shrugged, I’d been expecting as much and I’d been imagining Em’s reaction, she was going to have a ball when she heard about this. The principal paused while filling in the form in front of him, looked at me again and just seemed to stare at me. I arched an eyebrow at him, yes, what did you want? Why are you staring at me so suddenly?

“Why don’t you talk?”

I grabbed a pen and took out my note pad, I really didn’t know what I was doing, this was the first time the principal had asked me that, and I wanted to answer him properly without using sign language.

“Why do I have to talk?” I wrote, because even though he was showing an interest for the first time ever I was still a snarky bastard and I wanted to avoid his question.

“Well, you don’t actually have to talk, if you don’t want to. We can’t force you or anything. I just wondered: have you thought that if you talked like everyone else, then maybe, just maybe, your life around here would be easier?”

I stared at him for a few seconds. Was he seriously telling me this? Was he stupid or what? Didn’t he know that it didn’t really matter?

“My talking or not talking isn’t the issue here, the issue is that I’m different, and I’m gay, and I have two lesbian moms, and the people here just can’t seem to deal with that. That’s the big problem, that’s the real reason why Brent and your teachers bully me.”

“That’s a very harsh and very judgmental thing to say,” the principal said frowning, but not angrily, no, he looked concerned, as if the idea that something like this was going on and he didn’t know it gave him a stomach ache. “You don’t actually have any evidence of this. Or do you?”

I stared at him again and rolled my eyes, I was starting to get angry here because he was asking me for evidence. Evidence? What more evidence did he want? He’d seen me beaten black and blue by Brent, he’d seen me be dragged in here for not taking notes in class, he’d seen me dehydrated and famished, too weak to stand after spending almost two days in a locker. And still he asked me for evidence that I was being bullied? f**k this s**t, f**k this school, f**k this teachers, f**k this old man that was full of good intentions but wouldn’t know the right thing to do if I hit him in the face.

Whatever. I was clearly wasting my time here, wasting my hopes and my words, wasting my effort to maybe make one of the powerful adults stand in my corner. I put my notepad back into my bag and returned the pen to the cup on the desk, slumping back against the chair. The principal seemed to wait a few minutes, silence thick in the air, for my answer, but then his eyes got sad when he understood I wasn’t going to answer. He sighed tiredly, handed me the form to fill, and then when that was done, handed me a detention slip along with my headphones. I deemed the conversation done and I stood up to leave, wondering if I’d wasted enough time to skip fifth period.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” the principal said firmly.

I sighed and turned around, staring at the principal, waiting for him to finish his well-intended speech about how I could live so much better if I conformed to the masses. The principal looked at me for a little while and then just sighed, for the third time, and I wondered if he’d understood his words were wasted on me since the moment he asked me for evidence of being bullied.

“Go Sal. Just go,” he said, closing his eyes and grabbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you make this harder for yourself. If you just talked, dressed normally or chose a different… lifestyle, I’m sure you’d fit right in.”

And suddenly all my carefully controlled anger exploded, and I couldn’t listen to this old fart tell me how I was bullied because I’d chosen to be gay. I almost signed at him but then I thought that I wanted him to understand every word I said, I didn’t want him to miss even a single one of them. grabbed one of the sticky posts in his desk, and the pen from before and wrote with so much force the letters left an imprint in the pages behind it.

“Why should I change myself so that a bunch of bullies I don’t really care about like me? Why do I have to be bullied for being myself? Why are you scolding me for being different instead of scolding your teachers and the students for discriminating me? I think you should take a good look at your priorities and identify who you care the most about, your precious reputation and what the higher ups think about you or the students that go to this school.”

I took the note out of the stack and pasted it on his desk, right in front of him, where he wouldn’t be able to miss it. Really, what I wanted was to stick it to his forehead and see if he was able to see his own narrow-mind that way, but I knew that was extremely disrespectful. As rebellious and irreverent as I was, I wasn’t looking to be outright expelled, which was another reason why I didn’t let this people know I was mute.

I left the office closing the door unnecessarily loudly, not quite like the teacher had done before me, but with enough force to calm my desire to kill someone a little bit. The hag on the reception flinched and turned to glare at me, I glared right back at her and walked off to my next class already about half an hour late. Damn, I hadn’t been able to skip the period completely and head right for my sixth and last class.

I walked into the classroom and the teacher glared at me, probably because I was late and had forgotten to get a tardy pass from the receptionist in my hurry to leave. I was tempted to tell him not to bother, that I already had detention for two whole weeks, but I just walked right past him to my seat. I sat and, like I did in every class, pretended to pay attention but I didn’t really, I just sat there replaying my conversation with the principal. That class ended and I moved onto my next classroom, where I proceeded to pretend to pay attention as I thought about Ollie, who wouldn’t accompany in detention during those two weeks.

Thankfully school ended and I grabbed my s**t and went to the music classroom for detention. The teacher that was always there didn’t even bother to ask me for my detention slip, probably the principal talked to her already. I gave it to her either way, because I was a creature of habit and moved on, knowing that she’d keep this slip until the two weeks were done and I had to give it back to receptionist. I went to sit in a desk and laid my crossed arms on the desk, my head cushioned by them. Then, well, I was glad to be in detention because Ollie walked in and showed the teacher his detention slip. He saw me and smiled shyly coming to sit in the desk next to mine when the teacher had signed his slip and gave it back to him. I really wanted to hug him or kiss him or something, but the teacher was still here, so yeah, couldn’t do that yet.

Like she always did, the teacher walked out of the classroom after a few minutes and I finally turned and smiled at Ollie.

“Hey,” he whispered.

I loved that he was talking to me more often, well, he didn’t talk, more like whispered and it still wasn’t as often as I would like. But it was more than before, I mean, he used to not talk at all, so I considered his infrequent whispers a victory. I went over to where he was and sat on his lap, laying against his chest, my arms wrapping around his neck. Ollie wrapped his hands around my waist and hugged me tightly, probably feeling my need for comfort and a bit of tender loving care.

“Shitty day?” He whispered in my ear, and he would’ve made my d**k go hard in seconds and a shiver of arousal would’ve coursed through me, but I was too tightly wound up, too angry.

And that made me even angrier, because this had been a perfectly good day, if a bit stressful, just because I’d gotten to wake up next to Oliver, and I’d gotten to have s*x with him for the first time. And I should be f*****g enjoying my alone time with my boyfriend and we should be making out and maybe getting a quick hand job, but no, I wasn’t doing any of that because I was too angry. It pissed me off to no end that he’d suggested that if I hadn’t chosen to be gay I wouldn’t be bullied as much, that if I changed just a tiny bit they would like me better and I’d become like the masses and stop standing out.

Ollie hugged me tighter, probably feeling my increasing anger, and pulled me into his strong chest were I felt safe and some of my anger left me. I just sighed and nodded leaning farther into him, hugging him so tight I feared I was keeping him from breathing, but he didn’t complain. He caressed my arms up and down, doing little circle motions and just comforting me, being there for me. And my heart melted because he was so sweet, he’d had a pretty shitty day today too and still here he was comforting me and giving me a strong and stable haven to hide in and lick my wounds.

Gradually, I felt myself relax, each touch smoothing my ruffled feathers, until I was back to being my normal self. I pushed off of Ollie and offered him my hand, he frowned not understanding but he grabbed my hand nonetheless. He probably thought, like me, that we would take advantage of being the only other living souls in the school right now, but being so angry left me tired and not the least bit in the mood for s*x. So instead, I pulled him over to the piano, comprehension dawning on him, which made me laugh, and sat beside him on the piano bench.

“You brought your notes, right?”

“Yeah, but I made a few changes to them.”

I rolled my eyes because I knew what that meant, that we had a whole new song in our hands, but I said nothing. I don’t know what the issue was but we would work on something today, and then, tomorrow when we ended back in the detention room, whatever we worked on today would be gone, replaced with something else and he would always say he just made a few changes. He’d told me today that he’d tried to keep on composing like his parents had wanted him too but that he couldn’t, that his mind went blank and his fingers failed to follow his orders. I didn’t understand quite what he meant, but I thought that his parents’ death was probably the cause for his bringing a new song every day. So, I didn’t comment on it, and acted as if constantly working on the same song but made different would change something.

I nodded and he sat down beside me, laying his notes in front of him, stretching his fingers and playing. And guess what? It was a completely different song than the one we had been working on the last time. It was another sad sounding song, and it was beautiful, his fingers dancing on the keys and the piano telling the story of his day, right until he hit a wrong key. He tried it again, changing the chord a bit but that didn’t work either, my mind was trying to tell me something, but I felt him start to tense beside me, so I held his hands before he tried again. This was my sign for him to be quiet while I thought, while my own muses spoke to me about what the song needed. The melody in my mind all over again, listening to its rhythm and arrangement, trying to find the right key. And then the melody whispered the answer to me, G flat, I opened my eyes and told Ollie.

“Try G flat.”

He thought for a few seconds probably thinking on what scale to put it, what chord would work best. I didn’t know s**t about piano scales or chords, I only knew they had like eight different scales, and that the pedals by the feet did something to what the person was playing. Ollie started the song from the top again and when it came to the part where he was stuck, the music didn’t even hitch, it flowed naturally without stop.

We repeated the process all through detention: stuck, stop, think, continue, and so on. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it because it was probably Em, asking me where the hell was I and why wasn’t I at band practice. When detention was done, I figured the song was just about done, just needing a few little touches and flourished to bring it perfectly to an end. It was beautiful, filled with both his and my emotions and I would hate to see it get changed by tomorrow, so I took a risk and tapped him on the hand tentatively

“Would you do me a favor?”

We were picking up our bags, Ollie putting his notes away, to leave the classroom and Ollie gave me a confused look, probably sensing my insecurity.

“Always. What is it?”

I faltered and Ollie frowned clearly not understanding the nervousness in my movements or the fact that I was hesitating. We started walking out of the school and towards Em’s house, me thinking how to phrase what I wanted, Oliver watching me.

“Would you not touch that song? I mean, pretty, pretty, pretty please with sugar on top can you not change it at all?”

Ollie looked even more confused and I hurried to explain.

“I mean like don’t play it or make any changes to it until you’re with me again, don’t think about it, and don’t add or move anything until you’re with me.”

Ollie nodded but I could see he didn’t understand why I was asking this.

“I just… I want us to work on this one together, and I know you work on songs in your house too, but I just want this one song to be with me.”

It was part of the truth, and I felt terrible because not telling him the entiriety of what I had been thinking was like lying. I would’ve told him the whole truth if it wasn’t because I thought the whole truth would hurt him deeply or send him into another panic attack and he’d end up like yesterday. Yesterday was a bad day, he really freaked out, I had never seen him like that, it was like a whole new level of panic, I mean he was screaming when I found him on the streets. I saw him relax considerably and then he nodded, and I felt myself relax as well, smiling at him and giving him a small gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for doing this for me, it really means a lot.”

Ollie smiled back at me and we just walked in silence, enjoying our own company, enjoying the feel of our laced hands, enjoying the closeness. Once we got to the garage, I knew Em would b***h at me and at Ollie if Dust hadn’t talked to her already about my problem with the teacher. So I took in all the silence and basked in it while it lasted, because soon enough the happy tweets of birds and the sound of the wind rustling tree leaves would be replaced with screams.

Sure enough, as soon as the door opened a wave of angry sounds seemed to push out of the room. If Em was pissed right now, I couldn’t wait until she heard about my two weeks of detention, she’d blow a gasket. Em aimed the full heat of her wrath at me, but I didn’t so much as flinch, Oliver how ever squeezed my hand, telling me he was nervous, and I squeezed it back, telling him it was alright, I’d protect him.

“And you. Where the hell were you? I texted you like a billion f*****g times, and you never answered,” Em accused.

I raised my hands in surrender, as if saying don’t shoot me, but Em only glared at me with renewed anger and I sighed.

“We had detention, there was nothing I could do about being in time for band practice.”

“Detention? Again Sal? How do you manage to get yourself into trouble every motherfucking day? Can’t you at least try to stay out of detention for now? You know we have to seriously practice if we want to get gigs! Sometimes I swear you don’t give a s**t about Tainted or about my plans for it,” Em said, sounding even more pissed, and a little voice in my head made the snarky comment that any moment now she’d have a heart attack.

She was really trying to make me angry, but I’d already gotten angry twice today, my quota of anger for the day had ran out, she was s**t outta luck.

“If you think today is bad, then you probably don’t want to hear that I have detention for two whole weeks.”

“SAL!” She screamed indignant and enraged, which made Ollie flinch again and squeeze my hand tighter, this was normally his sign for lets get out of here before she kills us. He only ever used it around Ash or around Em, because they were always angry about one thing or the other. In response I squeezed his hand again, telling him that if someone tried to kill him, I’d protect him and that he had my permission to ran if Em or Ash took a single menacing step towards us. Em went on, oblivious to the silent conversation Ollie and I were having. “Two weeks? Two whole weeks of late practices! And you say it like it’s nothing! Do you seriously not care about Tainted? About getting gigs and recording?” Em yelled at me.

“Of course, I care, it’s not my fault the stupid teachers decided it would be fun to bully the mute gay kid with the lesbian moms.”

Em seemed flustered, like she didn’t know what to do, like she wanted to seriously strangle me and go defend me from said stupid teachers. She suddenly went still, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, probably sensing that she couldn’t strangle me and couldn’t go chew the teachers off right this second. I took the opportunity to look around the room and see who was here, and found, well, Dust, obviously, as well as Ennie and Kev. And it was right then that I realized we hadn’t really heard them play nor decided who would take the position as our rhythm guitarist.

Em opened her eyes and looking calmer, but just barely, and held my eyes again.

“Just talk to your candidates for rhythm guitarist and get them ready to audition for us,” Em said before turning and going into her house, probably to get a tea and some snacks to take her anger out on.

I turned toward Ennie and Kev with a questioning look, mostly asking if they’d decided among themselves who was going to start.

“To show that I’m a true gentleman -even though I wouldn’t touch a girl with a ten-foot pole- I’ll say, ladies first,” Kev said.

I nodded, ignoring the sarcasm in his answer, and turned towards Ennie, who seemed a little taken aback and nervous.

“What do I play?” she asked, fidgeting around.

I shrugged, thinking that this girl was nervous just playing for us in this tiny and slightly unkempt garage, I couldn’t imagine her face if we ever played in a real stage.

“Whatever song you like that shows us your talent, we really don’t mind what you choose to play, we only ask that it demonstrates the best you can do.”

Ennie nodded slightly, and went to pull her guitar out of her case, still looking a little nervous and that was fine, unless it affected her performance, or persisted through time. I tried to remember the way she’d played yesterday, when Ollie had sung Dear Agony, but my memories were filled with Ollie and nothing else. However, if I tried to focus very hard, I seemed to remember a few fumbled notes in the background, but I couldn’t identify were they came from.

Em came back just as Ennie stepped up, onto our makeshift stage, to connect her guitar to an amp. Em sat down on the couch next to Dust and I, Ollie sitting on the arm of the couch beside me, Kev leaning against the wall by Em’s side of the couch. Ennie tried a few notes, probably warming up or checking to see if her guitar needed tuning, before she stopped and thought for a few minutes.

I thought she wasn’t ever going to start when then she opened her eyes and smiled, nerves leaving her in the face of her usual cheerfulness. She tapped her foot to mark her tempo, which was a good sign, and then started playing. It wasn’t a song I’d ever heard before, and I didn’t particularly like it, but it was not all that simple. The start seemed a little complicated, and I wasn’t talking about the type of chords or their position on the frets, but about the coordination needed and the strength and stamina of your playing hand.

The song went on and I had to admit that even though the song was my favorite, I was a little impressed by her skills. I didn’t really know how Kev played, Cinematic Paradise had played in gigs quite often, but I’d never seen them perform, so I had no idea if he was better than Ennie or not. He did have more experience on him, but that didn’t necessarily traduce into having skill at what you did.

Ennie carried on with the song beautifully, her tempo was correct, she made slight face gestures when she messed up but she knew how to cover up, which was very important in a band. Though I would’ve preferred it if she didn’t mess up at all, but we were human and made mistakes so that was alright. The song ended and everyone applauded.

“That was great Ennie, you’ve got some serious skill, what song was that?”

“Besitos by Pierce the Veil,” Em, Dust, Kev, and Ennie said at the same time, looking at me like I was an i***t for not knowing that.

“Well, sorry for not listening to Pierce the Veil, but I don’t treat you like idiots for not listening to Seventh Wonder.”

I leaned back into the couch, crossing my arms, and pouted, because it was fun to tease them and maybe I was a bit but out by their meanness. Ollie chuckled beside me and I turned an indignant stare at him, how could he side with them? He chuckled again, you’re a dork, and I stuck my tongue out at him, well, you’re a traitor. His eyes danced with mischief like Mina’s did and I became distracted thinking I was corrupting him, so I didn’t see his hands move to my ribs to tickle me. I laughed and tried to get away from him and he stopped, smiling his heart-stopping, d**k-hardening smile and kissed me.

Everyone groaned and I cracked up in the middle of the kiss because they sounded absolutely disgusted with us and I’d probably do this more often just to annoy them.

“You about done there, lovebirds? We need to get a move on with this,” Em said with annoyance.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes while everyone else laughed, and I was glad I’d disgusted him with my ooey-gooey couple moment with Ollie because the air in the garage felt lighter now that Em wasn’t in kill mode.

“So, Kevin, right? You’re up,” Em said, turning towards Kev who was already getting out his guitar.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t pointed it out,” Kev said with a sarcastic smile.

Em glared at him and I would’ve played interference, but the gorgeous guitar in his hand held all my attention. It was a beautiful sort of metallic royal blue color, with the pickups, neck, and volume and tone controls black and the bridge, frets and tuners made painted silver. I began to device a plan to sneak into his house and steal it from him while he slept, but then I thought it would receive better care and more love in his hands. So, I let him keep it, for now, but I swore that when I had more time I would…

“You were in Cinematic Paradise before, right?” Dusty asked his voice snide, snapping me out of my mind because Dusty talked like that, he was always friendly, he sort of sounded like Brent when he talked to me this days. “They’re like pop, and we’re like punk rock, man. It’s a bit different, but that’s alright you can play whatever you want. We won’t judge you, man.”

Anyone in a ten-mile radius would’ve heard the judgement in Dusty’s tone of voice, as it was Kev’s sarcastic smile went nuclear.

“Alright, thank you so much for being so understanding with me, I mean, since I clearly can’t tell the difference between pop and punk rock,” Kevin said sweetly, his words dripping with acid, and I was taken aback because I knew he was a smart-ass and a sarcastic bastard but I had never seen him like this. I wondered what Em and Dusty had told him to make him like this, I turned to give Ollie a quick look and found him frowning, upset, but I couldn’t tell why. “I’m going to play Alley Cat by Seventh Wonder,” Kev went on and I didn’t even have time to be impressed and asked him how he knew of Seventh Wonder and if he had really mastered that song before he started playing.

I knew the band and knew the tabs and knew what the song had to sound like, and Kevin didn’t only do it justice, he went for extra credit. He filled the pauses in the guitar tabs, were there were some keyboard solos, by adapting those tabs to electric guitar. It was quite a lot more work than just learning the guitar tab religiously and holding onto it like a drowning man.

He was simply awesome, he followed the tempo perfectly and his hands never got tangled or made a mistake, even though the song was extremely complicated at times. The tabs involved chords and notes all the way down to the twenty-something fret, tapping, bending, pull offs, and like every other technique there was on guitar. By the time the song ended, I was sure all of us were slack-jawed, our eyes wide as plates, and that we’d understood Kev knew the difference between pop and punk rock.

“So? How was it? Do you think I can make the transition from my silly pop band to your punk rock band?” Kev asked, and through his sarcasm everyone could see his smugness, because he knew damn well he had killed the audition.

I frowned, because if there was something that had to go, or Em and Dusty might just kill him in his sleep, was that f*****g attitude. If he wanted to stay in this band and work with us, he had to get rid of his cocky, know-it-all, I’m-better-than-all-of-you-combined attitude and learn some f*****g humility. For now, I decided not to take it personally and forgive him because of how Dust and Em had treated him, but the next time he did something like that I wasn’t letting him off the hook.

“Yeah, I think he can make that transition pretty easily, what do you think Dusty?” I turned to look at Dust who was still staring wide eyed and slack jawed, I didn’t even think he’d noticed I was talking to him.

Well, I guess it served him right for being an asshole to Kev without good reason.

“Yeah, I guess he can,” Dust said slowly, and I could feel him getting embarrassed by what he’d done before, thinking that would teach him a bit of humility too.

“You guess?” Em said, recovering too, entering that rare space were she was seriously impressed and didn’t limit her praise, “That was completely and totally great! You have to admit he knows his s**t Dust.”

“Whatever,” Dust said, shrugging and acting like he didn’t know he had been completely wrong, which made me frown. I really didn’t understand why he was being so hard headed about this matter, what was his problem with Kev?

“So now it’s time for the judges to decide who’s going to…” Em said, doing a perfect imitation of Tyra Banks, “Continue with Tainted on the run towards getting signed by a record label.”

We all laughed, because seriously she copied her voice exactly, and I was even a bit impressed, I hadn’t seen her in this good a mood for quite a while.

“We’ll go talk this out in the kitchen and grab a few snacks and something to drink while we’re at it. Don’t burn the house down kids. And definitely, don’t kill each other, I don’t to deal with a dead body this late at night,” Em said, getting off the couch and walking towards the door that led to her house.

Ennie chuckled and Kev rolled his eyes, but they began to wander the garage, exploring. Ollie gave me a questioning look, could he go into the kitchen with me, and I shrugged, I wasn’t entirely sure. So, I pulled him after me either way, f**k whatever Em said, Dusty walking in front of me. Em puttered around the kitchen, opening cabinets and cupboard and the fridge, looking for stuff, and the rest of us leaned against the counters, watching her.

“So, who’s staying and who’s going?” Em said, pausing in her search to hold our gazes.

I debated her question, weighing the pros and cons in my mind, until in the end, the decision relied on two key facts.

“I’m not sure, because even I like Ennie’s personality better but Kev has way more skill.”

“Ennie?” Both Em and Dust asked, looking confused, the same way Ollie had looked when I’d used the nickname around him.

“Yeah, that’s my nickname for Gretchen.”

They snorted at my choice of nickname and I rolled my eyes, could we get back to the topic at hand? Em looked thoughtful when she stopped laughing, probably doing her own weighing and thinking about what mattered most to her.

“Yeah, I agree with you. I would add, though, that Gret looks a little inexperienced. I don’t know if we have time to train someone else into what a band is supposed to be like. In that sense Kevin wins. After all, he spent quite a few years with Cinematic Paradise. I think they’ve not only gone to gigs but also recorded some of their songs. Having that type of knowledge on our side would help a lot,” Em said, still thoughtful.

“Yeah, but…” Dust started saying and trailed off, like he didn’t really seem to have a valid argument but wanted to keep Kev off the band either way.

I glared at him, already sick and tired of this stupid grudge he had against Kevin, no matter if Kevin had earned it or not, he should keep things professional.

“Kev’s not going to stop being a plus for the band nor having serious skills with the guitar just because you don’t like him Dusty, stop acting like a brat.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s his attitude that gets on my nerves,” Dust muttered and he directed a glare in my direction.

“Yeah, I know about that, I knew he was cocky and sarcastic when I suggested he play for us, I figured we could maybe work around it and that we’re not exactly perfect either.” I eyed Em particularly because this comment was directed to her, no subtlety at all, and I wanted her to know.

“Hey! I only show my nasty attitude when you make me,” Em said defensively.

“Anyways, we all have flaws and the band works just fine, it’s just a matter of being understanding, having patience and accepting people as they come. I also feel I need to point out two more things: first, even great famous bands have members with nasty personalities and the bands haven’t disbanded. And second, you two baited him into behaving like that by treating him like some sort of i***t, he just lashed out because of your aggressiveness. You would’ve lashed out even worse if you had been in his position, so I’ll add that he shows a lot of restraint to his list of good features.”

“Ugh, yeah, alright, I get it man, I get it,” Dust muttered.

“So?” I asked, looking at Em, wondering if she would continue doing her America’s Next Top Model routine.

“We have reached a decision,” Em said, again imitating Tyra.

Ollie and I laughed, because it was so odd to see Em make a joke, and Dust just rolled his eyes and crossing his arms on top his chest. Em grabbed the things she’d rounded up and we all marched back to the garage, Dusty still sulking. Kevin was eyeing the stage, the egg cartons, and the clutter, probably wondering about the acoustics of the place because that’s was Kevin’s forte. Ennie was looking at the pictures and posters glued to the walls with that sunny smile on her face. Then I added another thing to the list of Ennie’s bad features, I’d probably go crazy with all that cheerfulness around me all the time. They noticed us walk in and came to the center of the room, standing in front of us and looking a little expectant. Em purposefully ignored them going to leave the things she carried on the coffee table, probably to tease them with suspense, before turning towards them.

“Well, we have reached a decision and,” Em made a dramatic pause but then she continued, “I’m sorry but we’re keeping Kev.”

She gave Ennie an apologetic look but Ennie just smiled cheerfully, as if she was really glad that we’d chosen Kevin over her. Meanwhile, Kevin jumped, fist-pumped, and did his own version of a victory dance, and Dusty glared at him, which elicited a smug smile from Kevin when he noticed Dusty’s eyes on him. Jesus the f*****g Lord Christ, what was the matter with these two?

“It’s alright,” Ennie said, pulling my focus away from Kev and Dusty. “I was going to tell you anyways that I wouldn’t really be able to practice all that often ‘cause I kinda work at my uncle’s place in the city. It’s this nice little place that specializes on sandwiches, salads, and coffee called The Sandwich, Salad, and Coffee Company -real original, I know. So, he has a small stage, right? And he rents it to bands during the whole week except for Friday. Friday is open mic day, so anyone can get up there to do their thing. So, he’s old and can’t deal with organizing the bands and people that borrow his stage, right? So, I do it for him,” Ennie said shrugging.

I think all of us stared at Ennie like she was stupid or something, all too shock at so much idiocy together.

“Hang on a second, your uncle has a stage he rents?” Dusty asked slowly, recovering from the shock faster than any of us.

“Yeah, I just told you that,” Ennie said, looking at him like he was stupid.

“Then why the hell didn’t you say so before! We’ve been looking for a stage to play on since like forever!” Em said indignantly.

“Oh.” I could see the moment the other shoe fell and hit Ennie like a brick. “I don’t know, I guess, I hadn’t thought of that? But that’s a great idea. It’ll tell my uncle that you’re my friends, right? And maybe he’ll let you play for free or with discount,” Ennie said smiling, her cheerfulness making a full come back. “We have an open space around eight next weekend. You want me to put you on the list?”

“YES!” Em, and Dust yelled at the same time, sounding frustrated, it was just a tiny bit funny to watch them get so riled up.

“Alright, alright, I get it, no need to yell at me,” Ennie said raising her hands in surrender, the same don’t-shoot-me gesture I’d done before. “I’ll talk to him. You have to be there an hour earlier with your guitars and bass to do sound check. The drum set, amps, and mics are already there.”

“Oh my God,” Em said, her voice going high pitched, and that and even rarer phenomenon, it meant that she was really happy and really excited. “We’re going to play on a real stage! We got our first gig!” Em said, getting off the couch and jumping around like a little girl.

We all laughed as we watched her dance, her happiness was very contagious, and I wished that she’d be this happy more often. But then she froze and I groaned mentally, because that meant she’d realized exactly what getting a gig and playing in a real stage meant.

“Oh my God,” she said, her voice high pitched, but with panic this time, and she turned to look at us with shocked wide eyes. “We only have seven days to practice!

“And we have a new guitarist. How are we going to do this? We’re not ready, at all. We need at least two weeks to practice for something like this,” Em said, panicking.

I was about to tell her to chill out, that easing Kevin into Tainted would probably be very easy, when the boy in question intervened.

“You don’t have to worry about me really. I already know all about being in a band and going to gigs. All I need is practice, to see how and where I fit in,” Kev said, shrugging and again that cocky attitude of his annoyed me, and wondered how I had never noticed he was this cocky.

“He’s right Em, seven days will be more than enough, plus, it’s not like we’re going to be playing our songs or anything, I mean, we only have like four. We’re mostly going to do covers, and maybe at the end throw in one of our songs, to show them that we have original stuff too.”

“Then we need to decided what we’re going to play, and practice the songs,” Em said her voice firming. “Since we don’t have two weeks to get ready, like we should, we’ll just have to extend band practice and hour or two since someone has detention.” Em glared at me, as if I hadn’t understood she’d been talking about me, and I rolled my eyes at her.

“Em, you’ve got to be kidding,” Dust said, his voice a little desperate, and Em directed her very serious eyes and face at him. I could tell Dusty was grasping for some way to talk some sense into Em, and I was too but I didn’t see any way to do it. “Hang on a second, we already practice four to three hours every day, you mean to tell me you want us to practice six to five hours?”

“It’s the only way we’ll be ready when the gig comes,” Em said firmly, not leaving room for arguments.

“But, that’s way past dinner Em! Are you going to feed us too?” Dusty asked, still fighting this losing battle.

“I considered that when I decided the new schedules,” Em said, glaring at Dusty for thinking her stupid. “I’ll feed you, it won’t be a problem at all.”

And that was it, we were out of arguments, Em had probably considered everything and would have counterarguments for our counterarguments. There was nothing we could do except for nod like submissive sheep as we all shared fearful looks. Even Ollie had a concerned frown on his forehead, like he was worried about us, and I felt like telling him that I was worried about us too.

What had we gotten ourselves into?