Freefall (8 page)

He dropped the rest of the stolen taco back onto my plate and stood. “Come on, let’s go tell Mom.”

“Jared, hold on—”

But he was already on his way to the crowded main area. As I pushed myself up to follow, I had a sinking feeling in my gut. Jared went right up to the bar and stood behind the only empty stool while I squeezed in next to him. When he waved Mom over, she kind of frowned—she doesn’t like us mingling with the customers—but headed our way.

“Whatcha doing out here?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, I just wanted you to give a chance to guess who’s going on a six-week band tour starting in mid-October,” Jared said.

I think he was aiming for casual, but he blew it by breaking into a smile so big, his face looked like it was going to split in half.

Mom gasped. “
You
?”

“Yup,” he said. “I was just with Owen from the Rat
Rodders. The Real McCoys—or whatever our new name is going to be—is now on the bill to open for them on their tour. They’ve got a ton of back-to-back shows lined up all over the U. S. of A. It’s going to be
in
sane!”

Mom started squealing. “Oh my God! Baby, that’s
great
.” She came running around from behind the bar and threw her arms around Jared’s neck. Then she did the same to me. “I’m so proud of both of you,” she said, jumping up and down. “I mean, wow! Can you
believe
it?”

Honestly, I couldn’t believe it and didn’t
want
to believe it. But I couldn’t make myself say so. I couldn’t even open my mouth. All I was capable of was standing there, thinking dizzying, nauseating thoughts and feeling like I was going to pass out.

October?
Back-to-back shows for six weeks?

It was impossible.
Impossible
.

“I told you, Ma,” Jared said, still grinning. “I told you I could make this happen.”

Mom reached up to try to mess with his hair, even though it never budges with all the crap he uses in it. “I never doubted you for a second.”

She hadn’t, either. Last year Jared got fired from three jobs in a row for (1) showing up late all the time; (2) stealing; and (3) getting high during his break, so Mom ended up having to pay for everything when he was arrested for drunk driving. His attorney fees and court fines pretty much cleaned her out, but she never got on his case too much over it. He promised he’d pay
her back when he started making money from his music. And now it actually looked like it could happen.

Except . . .
I
couldn’t go on tour.

All the people sitting around the bar and the tables were drinking their beers and fixing their gazes on us instead of the three big TVs overhead. Mom clapped her hands and announced, “Hey, everyone! I just found out my babies are taking their music on the road for a band tour next month!”

There was applause all around, and a few guys even got out of their seats to congratulate us.

This
was
big news. Huge. Just like Jared had said.

“You know, that’s really something,” old Bob said, breathing his stale cigarette breath in my face while he yelled to be heard over everyone. “Anita here looks young enough to be your sister, and
you
look young enough to still be in school.”

Mom had Jared when she was sixteen and me a little more than two years after that. She’s thirty-five, but she can pass for about twenty-five. I’m lucky to only get the little brother thing; Jared sometimes has to put with up with people thinking Mom’s his girlfriend.

Some other guy shook my hand while his girlfriend or wife patted my arm. Bob kept talking—to me or to himself, I couldn’t tell. “Folks sometimes wait their whole lives for a bunch of nothing to happen, but you kids are off to a jumping start with
something
.”

I watched Jared under the dim lighting. He was eating
up the attention and smiling like this was one of his coolest moments ever. It should have been like that for me, too, but it wasn’t. My stomach was going crazy and I could hardly breathe.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

Then I moved past everyone to get to the bathroom, and locked myself in.

12:23
P.M.

I was in the fancy three-floor bookstore on the Hill, with a magazine open on my lap and a whole pile of others next to me. But I wasn’t reading; I was hiding out in what was probably the last place anyone would look for me.

The no-drinking thing was finally feeling decent—I’d gotten some sleep, I was eating normally again, and my head had stopped throbbing and feeling cloudy—but everything else was sucking.

No one wanted to shut up about the band tour. Jared, Mikey, and Daniel kept talking about how this was by far the best thing ever to come our way. A chance to see more states than just Washington, Oregon, and Idaho! Great exposure! Fun, fun, fun!

Blah, blah, blah.

All of us understood that we probably wouldn’t become rich and famous from it—except for Daniel, who was taking
his
optimism to the max. There was a chance we wouldn’t break even, since opening bands aren’t always paid a guaranteed amount. But we all knew it was an amazing opportunity anyway.

I should have been as excited as hell—I
wanted
to be—but deep down I knew I wasn’t going to be a part of it. Maybe it could have worked if the tour had come up during summer vacation. Or if my brother and I could be trapped in a van together for forty-five days without killing each other. Or if I was capable of getting my ass onstage. Or if Isaac was going too. But this wasn’t going to work. And if
I
bagged, the whole band would have to.

A loud voice interrupted my thoughts. “I’m crazy sick of my hair,” she was saying. “It just, like,
hangs
there looking totally hideous.”

When I glanced up, I saw that Vicki Lancaster and Riley were heading my way and carrying their own stacks of magazines.

“You don’t look hideous,” Riley said, taking a seat on the couch across from mine.

Vicki plopped down beside her. “I think I’ll cut it all off.” She slouched and pouted like she was having the worst day of her life. “Or I’ll dye it black. I don’t know. I hate it.”

Then they both seemed to notice me at the same time.
Riley smiled; Vicki scowled and stood up. “Let’s sit somewhere else.”

Riley grabbed Vicki’s arm and pulled her back down. “No, this is fine.”

She was still smiling at me, but now she looked kind of embarrassed. I couldn’t guess what she was up to. We’d decided not give each other shit in class, but we’d never said anything about extending our peace agreement to bookstore couches with Vicki. I still wasn’t over that thing she’d said about Isaac at Pete’s party; I’d never get over it.

I gave Riley a nod and focused on the
Bass Player
magazine I was holding. It seemed as good a time as any to turn past page four. I had more important things on my mind than Vicki’s hair. Like how exactly I was going to get out of this tour.

“I didn’t know that stoner knew how to read,” Vicki stage-whispered. “Or is he only looking at the pictures?”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of glancing up.

“
We
should be looking at pictures,” Riley said. “Your appointment is in less than thirty minutes, so let’s see if we can find a cut you like. How short do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Like, my shoulders? Or chin? Or somewhere in between?”

I kept my eyes on my own magazine and tried to pretend the girls weren’t there. It wasn’t easy; Vicki’s voice could carry across the entire town. Plus, I could feel Riley watching me.

So the band tour. Everyone was stoked about it, talking like it was a done deal. It was obvious that Jared expected me to drop out of school like him and Daniel. And while that wasn’t an idea Mom had been thrilled about, she didn’t seem to think it was the end of the world, either. I wasn’t going to do it, though. And I couldn’t just take off and miss a month and a half of classes; that would set me back so far I’d never catch up, never graduate.

A booming voice pulled me out of my thoughts again. “There you are! I thought I saw you come up here.”

Riley and Vicki turned their heads toward Carr Goodwin, who was now behind their couch.

“Hi, Rosetta,” Carr said, grinning down at Riley.

I was confused about why he’d called her that, but then I realized it must be her real name—the one she’d said had come from a romance novel.
Rosetta.
It wasn’t prissy-sounding like she’d made it out to be. I thought it was pretty. Like her.

Vicki smacked Carr with her magazine. “Now you’re supposed to say, ‘Hi,
Vicki.
’”

Carr laughed, and I could have sworn he was trying to be an American James Bond or something. Such a phony fuck. “Hi, Vicki. And what are you lovely ladies up to today?”

He hadn’t looked at me once—I wasn’t looking straight at him, either—but I knew he’d seen me. I also knew that neither of us would say or do anything if the other didn’t start something first. Sober, we’re both pretty low-key.
I mean, a musician and a school politician. Could we be
any
less badass?

Still standing, Carr massaged Rosetta’s shoulders all casual, like he was just being his friendly vice-president self. I had a hunch, though, that he was seriously perving on her. Rosetta wriggled out of Carr’s grasp like she got that same feeling. “Vicki’s getting her hair cut in a few minutes,” she said, holding out a magazine. “You want to help us decide on a style?”

“Sure!” He said it like he’d been waiting all year for this, walked around the couch, and squished in next to Rosetta. Then, grabbing a small section of her hair, he twisted it around his finger. “You aren’t cutting yours off too, are you?”

Rosetta watched her hair in Carr’s hand with her eyes slightly narrowed. “No.”

“Good.” He let go, and the long, black strands unraveled and fell back in place.

I thought about moving to get away from them, but I’d been here first. I wasn’t going to let them run me off . . . or keep distracting me from my problem. Which, I realized then, could be solved if the guys found a new bass player to take on the road. One who wasn’t closely related to the lead singer/dictator. One who was out of school. One who was into the rockabilly scene. One who didn’t have incapacitating stage fright.

Vicki was still yammering while I tried to think of someone who could take my place. No one was coming to mind. What Jared said was kind of true: good bass players can be tough
to find because most dudes take up guitar instead to get all the glory, solos, and chicks.

There was movement across from me as Vicki and Carr got up.

“Thanks for the help,” Vicki said, running her fingers through her hair. “Hopefully, the next time you see me I won’t look like such a freak.”

Rosetta laughed. “You don’t look like a freak!”

Carr reached for Rosetta’s hand. “How about joining me for lunch at the golf course?”

She smiled up at him but left him hanging. “No thanks. I have something to do this afternoon.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Just stuff for school.”

“You’re always so mysterious,” Vicki said. “What are you up to?”

“It’s
nothing
,” Rosetta insisted. “You two go do your things. I’ll see you later.”

Carr looked like he wanted to keep bugging her, but Vicki pulled him to the escalator.

The second they were gone, Rosetta jumped up from her own couch and sat next to me. “I wonder who has it worse,” she said. “Kids who are forced to move a lot growing up, or the ones who are stuck around all the same kids their whole lives?”

It was an off-the-wall thing to say, but I was getting the idea that this was how she usually started conversations.

“I have no clue,” I said.

“Me neither. I’ve
never liked moving or having to make all new friends. But I’m noticing that people who go from elementary school to middle school to high school with the same kids never get a chance to start over. Like, maybe a certain guy will always be seen as a troublemaker, while some new girl can move to town and be accepted because no one knows her. It doesn’t seem fair.”

After dealing with Kendall’s lies—or
omissions
, as she would call them—for so many years, Rosetta’s openness blew me away.

“If you’re wondering if I’m jealous that you’re in with Vicki and Carr, the answer is no,” I said. “I figured out a long time ago that they’re not worth my time.”

Rosetta blushed. “Oh. I was speaking purely hypothetically, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I said.

So much for her being open.

We sat in a silence that can only be described as uncomfortable. Rosetta chewed her bottom lip and watched the couch cushion between us like she was worried it was going to come to life and attack her. I flipped the magazine to a random page to keep up with my fake reading.

“Do you want to go to the café downstairs?” she asked. “Maybe get some hot chocolate?”

I had no doubt that she was talking to me, but I looked over my shoulder anyway to see if someone was watching, if this was some kind of joke. “Hot chocolate?”

She smiled. “Oh, don’t even try to convince me that you’re a
coffee drinker. You and me? We’re nonconformists. And as nonconformists we don’t give in to the Washington State coffee obsession. Right?”

She didn’t look like much of a nonconformist in her pale blue shirt and khaki slacks; in fact, she looked like every prep I’d ever seen. But there
was
something about her, something not quite like the rest of them.

“I thought you had important school stuff to do,” I said.

“Exactly. That’s why I need your help.”

12:54
P.M.

There were four mugs on the table in front of us for the taste tests Rosetta wanted to do. Two had black coffee and two had hot chocolate covered with three-inch-high piles of whipped cream. As I grabbed my cocoa, chocolate ran down my hand. “This makes me feel like a five-year-old,” I said, licking it off. “If I ordered a sandwich at this place, do you think they’d cut the crusts off?”