I Won't Call This Hell

I sat in the passenger seat of Sophie's car, listening to Shaant Hacikyan's voice. I could remember the day she had bought the car, how happy she had been. She had saved up all her birthday money since the 8th grade, plus she'd worked the job at Burger King she hated.

The girl worked hard for her little white 1996 Chevy Impala, and she got it. I was proud of her, because it was one of the few things she had set her mind on and fulfilled. She wasn't a quitter, but she wasn't one to keep stuff. She changed her major at least seven times first semester of college.

We pulled into a free parking lot and parked. Then, we walked a few blocks to the Marquee Theater. I was trying to talk about something real and actually relevant, like how her classes were going, et cetera. Sophie, though, just wanted to talk about the band.

"..and their bass player, Garrett, is just so adorable. I love him, I swear to God. I mean, you've seen him, right?"

I looked at her from my side view and rolled my eyes.

She knew I hadn't seen Garrett the bass player. She knew that the only way I would even recognize The Maine is by listening to their music. I'm lucky enough to remember the band and their song names. I'm not going to sit down and take the time to remember their names, their faces, and their life stories.

"Oh, yea, no. Well, you'll see him later," Sophie said, picking up the beat to her voice again, "and then, you'll know that he's one of God's mighty fine gifts. Trust me, Lyn, you will see."

I rolled my eyes yet again. Sophie laughed at this, and then went into her story telling mode. She told me about all of the band members, their instruments, et cetera. Don't forget their names, she said, giving me her evil eye.

**

Sophie somehow managed to pull us almost to the front, right in front of the stage. I don't how, but she did. We screamed along with everyone else as the band members came on stage one by one (I thought Sophie was going to bust my ear drum when Bass Boy came on stage.) The singer came out last, grinning like a fool.

He came towards his mic and smiled even bigger when the crowd continued to go wild. The lights up above were dancing around the band, before they finally settled down and I recognized the face.

"How is everyone doing tonight?" John asked, and more screams came.

"Shit," I screamed. It was him, the boy who had ran into me at the mall. I knew it had to be him; it was the same hair, same tall and skinny stature, same cocky grin.

"What is it?" Sophie asked, her breath hot in my ear.

"I know him," I yelled into her ear.

Her mouth dropped, and I nodded.

"How?"

"Here's a song I hope you all like," John said, "and if your a manly man, man you better listen up, or I'll get Aaron to chop off your ballsss...," he laughed, "this song is called Whoever She Is."

She wouldn't have heard me now, so I dropped the subject for later, instead trying to enjoy the show. It was hard, though, when I now knew an arrogant bastard sang some of my favorite songs.