What I Can't Recall

Around noon, a knock comes at the door. I've been sitting in bed, reading for the last hour or so. I’m almost done with it. After cleaning my room and watching TV for a while, I had discovered there was nothing to do. Bryler’s out with Jason and Seth, Sarah’s at work, so I'd holed up in my room and decided to actually read A Walk to Remember. I get up and look in the mirror. I let my dark hair out of it's ponytail, and don't even attempt to throw on a T-shirt. A tank top is enough, since it's probably Derick or Liz or someone. I jump up and make my way through the living room to get to the door, and open it to see not any of the aforementioned, but Jake.

"Jake?" I question, "Why are you here? Do we have more plans I don‘t know about?"

Jake smiles. “Pretty much,” he says, drawing out the ending sound of the last word. He's dressed up nicely compared to what he usually wears. He has on a button-up black shirt and nice black jeans.

“Are we going somewhere fancy?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, pushing back some hair out of my eyes.

"You could say that,“ he says, ginning at some little joke of his own.

“Well, where are we going?“ I ask him, leaning against the door so that I don’t have to support myself completely. I’m that lazy.

“I'm taking you somewhere," he responds, keeping his answer extremely vague. "But it's a secret."

"Should I change?" I ask him, knowing the answer will be a yes. I'm wearing a black tank top and dark-wash jean shorts. My hair probably needs to be brushed again. Maybe some makeup should be applied.

"You look beautiful in what you're wearing," he says with a shrug.

"You sure?" I ask. “Because really, it wouldn’t take me but a few minutes to change.”

"Positive," he confirms, nodding his head. "Now come on or we'll be late."

“I need to write Sarah a note,“ I tell him. “I’ll be right there.“

I sigh and walk off, seeing no reason shut the door since I’m going to be walking right out of it in a moment. Once in the kitchen I write Sarah a quick note telling her I'll be back shortly. I lay it on the counter where she can see it first thing when she gets home, setting down the pen and head out the door, to see Jake is already in his car. I quickly get in the passenger seat and close the door.

"How old are you, anyways?” I ask as I buckle up, pulling the seat belt over me easily. He can drive, so I figure he’s at least sixteen, if not older already. I’ve been wondering for a while, because he admittedly looks a lot older than me. I‘m not sure what grade he‘s in, either. I haven‘t ever had any classes with him, but that doesn‘t mean anything.

"I'm seventeen," Jake answers easily. “My birthday was in actually just a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh,” I say simply, thinking about how he’d be eighteen this coming year, and I’d still be sixteen for another month after.

“I’m going to be a Senior, if you’re wondering,” he informs me, and I wonder how he knows I was wondering just that. “I’m a year ahead of you.”

“Oh,” I say again, always one that’s lame with responses. After a minute I add, “You should probably wear your seatbelt, you know. So you don’t get a ticket or die in a car cash or anything.

“I know,” he says, actually sounding a little bitter . "But I don't really care about breaking the law. I know my dad will just get me out of it. The law is easily bribed with money. And as for a car crash… eh. Que Sera, Sera.“ The phrase sounds very familiar, but I’m not exactly sure what it means, so I’m glad when he translates for me. “Whatever will be, will be. I‘m going to die if it’s my time. A seatbelt shouldn‘t matter."

“You have some interesting beliefs,” I tell him, grabbing a pair of sunglasses off his dashboard and sticking them onto my face. “Do you believe in God or Buddah or destiny or reincarnation what?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” he admits. “I kind of think the whole concept of religion is bull shit, but there are rare occasions when I‘m given a reason to believe in something. When things are going alright. When things are going good, I guess I believe in God. Or really it‘s just that I believe in something in general. Instead of nothing. I can‘t really put a name on it.”

“That makes sense,” I say slowly, still trying to register what he means, and still a little bit surprised he’s said so much. Jake’s turning out to be someone you can actually have a meaningful, long conversation with. As long as you ask just the right questions.

“And what about you?” He asks me, using one hand to grab a CD and put it in the stereo, and the other to drive. So carelessly. As if he really isn’t scared to die. I can tell he wasn’t kidding when he said those things earlier. “What do you believe?”

I hesitate. “I’m not so sure anymore, either. I’m Catholic, but Mom and I never really went to church much. Up to a certain point, I guess I would have basically recited you what I learned in Sunday School. But things have changed. I’m not sure I believe anything right now. I’m in Religion-Neutral. I’m not going to believe in any God for a while, until someone gives me a good reason to. I want some sort of evidence.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding his head. “So that’s what you want. Evidence. There has yet to be any, you know. In favor of any of the religions. And that’s probably not going to change for you. You‘re going to be left second-guessing, just like basically everybody else that‘s ever lived.”

“But maybe I won‘t have to,” I tell him, shrugging. “Maybe things will change for me. Most people go out looking for it, but I’m just gonna wait for it to come to me. Maybe nobody’s tried that technique.”

“I doubt it, but you can think whatever you want, September - Uh, hey. What’s your middle name anyways?” He asks. I wonder why it’s important; Jake doesn’t really seem like a guy who’d want to know a girl’s middle name.

“Lilly,” I tell him, shrugging. “I’m September Lily Day.”

“September Lilly. That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?” Jake asks, smirking a little bit, as he takes his eyes off the road to throw me a glance.

“What do you mean?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow, not seeing how my name is ironic in the least.

“Well, lilies don’t bloom is September,” he tells me. “That would be very, very unusual. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s impossible. I can confidently tell you that you’re the only September Lily that there will ever be.”

Instead of questioning Jake’s odd garden knowledge, I smile. I like the idea of it. “And what about you? It’s only fair that I know your middle name, too.”

“I’m Jacob Caleb Spencer,” he explains, shrugging. “There’s nothing cool about my name. It’s really common.”

"Gotcha. So... where are we going? Do I get a hint?" I ask curiously, getting a feeling we’re basically almost there. We must have already been on the road for almost a good thirty minutes.

"Well…" Jake says slowly, as if trying to decide whether or not he should. "I don't know if you'll like it there."

"Then why are you taking me?" I ask, wondering where we could be going.

"Well, I guess so you can meet my friends," he says with a shrug, taking a sharp left so that I start to lean right.

I have an impulse to say 'you have friends?!' but hold it in.
"Oh," I say simply, because nothing else really comes to mind at this point.

"Yeah," he says as we're pulling up to a huge house, which is seemingly located in the middle of nowhere. It kind of looks like a small neighborhood, but with no other houses but the one. I’m pretty sure we’re no longer in Ludlow, but maybe a city right outside of it. I’m not positive, though. "Well, here we are.”

He gets out of his seat and comes around to open the door for me. I look around in awe at the mansion. It has a beige coloring to it and maroon shutters and roof. There are shrubs surrounding the house, which appear to be two or three floors up. There is a white balcony towards the top of the house, which has a silver table and nicely furnished chairs surrounding it.

"This place looks nice," I comment, feeling kind of repetitive. I think I said that yesterday, but about Jake’s place. I wonder what kind if rich kid lives here. I’m guessing a complete snob.

"I guess," Jake says, making his slow way up to the front door. He then proceeds rings the doorbell repeatedly.

"I'm pretty sure they heard you the first seven times," I say teasingly, right as a boy opens the door.

The first thing I register is his lip ring. The glare of the sun off of it is basically what makes it so eye-catching. After I’m able to look away from that, I notice he looks a lot like Jake. He has dark hair, black jeans, a black shirt, practically black eyes. He’s a little bit more hardcore looking than Jake, though. He’s wearing black eye liner, his right ear- and of course his lip- is pierced, and though his shirt is long-sleeved, my guess is that his arms is covered in cuts. He smirks slightly at the sight of Jake and I.

"Hey dude," he says, obviously talking to Jake. "So this is the chick you were talking about the other day? You’re right. She's pretty hot."

I kind of stand there awkwardly, wondering what I should say or do. After a moment I decide to just not say anything.
"Yeah," Jake says in agreement, then turns to me. "September, this is Ben."

"Hey," Ben says hoarsely. He holds out my hand for me to shake. I hesitantly place my hand in his. After shaking, he drops my hand. Jake then says, “You gonna invite us in or not, you douche? It’s hot out here.”

“Fine, fine, come in,” he says, turning away from us and leaving the door open. His house is a lot like Jake’s. I’m afraid to basically even step on the floor, because everything looks so expensive. “Everybody’s down in the basement.”

“Everybody?” I echo Ben’s words. He made it sound like there was a whole gang of people downstairs. “God, how many siblings do you have?”

Ben snorts. “Siblings? Hell no. I’d hang myself. I’d hate to be related to them. They’re sick little bastards, every last one of them. They’re my friends.”

Jake grins, but I remain feeling confused. As we make our way down what seem like never ending steps, Jake explains in a soft voice to me.
“There’s four of us. Me, Ben, Griffin, and Kyle. And we’re all in this band we’ve had for the last year and a half. That’s how I can sing and play guitar and write songs. We do a couple of underground gigs now and then, but it’s hard because we’re looking for a new drummer now, since Dawson bailed on us.”

As soon as he finishes the last word of his sentence, I step off the stairs and into the basement. It looks like it’s been renovated to be a studio, almost. Except for beyond the instruments and all the equipment that I’m not sure the name of, there’s a TV, two couches, and an Air Hockey table.

Seated on the couch is two guys. One has a beer in his hand, the other doesn’t, though he looks like he might have already have had a few.

“The one with the beer is Kyle,” Jake informs me, quiet enough so that nobody but me can hear it. Kyle looks very normal compared to the others. He’s got blonde hair that seems a little bit too short for someone in a band, and he wears blue basketball shorts and a gray t-shirt. I never would have pegged this kid for someone to hang out with Jake. He looks kind of like Seth, to me. “He’s gonna be a junior this year, like you. His family’s pretty poor. He’s got two younger sisters and a younger brother who’s black. His family‘s pretty fucked up, because nobody has the same dad. And nobody knows who their dad is. But he‘s pretty cool, so he hangs out with us.”

I nod my head in acknowledgement that I caught that, and I’m ready to hear about the other one. He goes on, like I predicted.
“The one who looks like he’s totally wasted or high or on crack or something is Griffin,” he says, still keeping his voice low enough so that the kid doesn’t know he’s talking about him. The kid has a smile on his face for no apparent reason, and I can‘t help but notice it‘s crooked. He‘s extremely tall and lanky, his hair a light brown, styled kind of shaggy. His red t-shirt it too big for his skinny frame, but he‘s wearing tight skinny jeans. “He’s the youngest of the group, and can’t get enough of whatever illegal substance we can give him, cause it’s new to him and all. He’ll grow out of that, though. Anyways, he’s gonna be a Sophomore. He has a pretty okay life, one of those perfect middle class family’s or some shit like that. But his dad’s an asshole. Flips out on him and beats him and shit. But don’t let him know I told you. He’ll get ticked.”

“I won’t,” I tell Jake, shrugging a little bit. I wonder when exactly it is I’ll get a chance to do this, but I don’t question him.

“Guys, this is September,” Jake announces to the guys, and they give him this look that lets me know they honestly don’t give a fuck. “September, this is the guys. Do your best to try not to make any sort of contact with them. They’re sadistic little bastards. And they probably actually will bite you, if given the chance.”

The tall one- Griffin- winks at me, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
“Wanna beer?” Ben offers, holding one out for me to take. I shake my head no, but he hands it to me anyways. I hold it awkwardly, not really one to drink alcohol. I had a bad past with it. I had wine once when I was nine, and needless to say it did not go well.

Jake takes the beer from me, popping the top and chugging it down, before tossing it to a trash can. He misses, but doesn’t bother to go pick it up or anything. We all just kind of stand there for a moment, and I’m fixing to say something when Jake interrupts.

“Well, not that this isn’t the best time of my life, but I‘m out of here,” he says, directing this statement towards Ben. The other two don’t look like they care. “We got plans. See you Thursday, dude.”

“Be here at five or I’m gonna send Rick out after your ass, got it?” Ben replied.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake mutters. “I’m not gonna be late this time. Chill.” And with that, Jake turns and starts up the stairs. I quickly make my way after him, waiting until we’re at the top of the stairs to say anything.

"We're leaving? We just got here like twenty minutes ago," I say, not understanding. The car ride here had been longer than the actual stay.

"Yeah," Jake says with a shrug. “If we don't go now, we’re gonna be late and she'll think we ditched her."

"Who will?" I questioned, feeling my eyebrows pull together. Everything seems to be a mystery with Jake; I can never tell what he‘s talking about. And though it annoys me to no end, there was something about it that I actually liked. I couldn‘t place my finger on it.

"It's about time I get to meet your friends," he replies. "So we're gonna go forgive Ellie."