She's With The Band
Chapter 6;
“Oh God! Tour hasn’t even started yet and I’m already fucking annoyed!” Grieco whined. Alex just snickered and raised his beanie back up over his chocolate eyes.
“So, we know nothing about you. Life story. Go,” Zack commanded Imelda.
“I’m sixteen, there isn’t much to tell,” Imelda laughed. The boys stared at her, waiting.
“Fine. My mom’s name is Holly. I don’t know who my dad is cause he left right after I was born. My mom won’t tell me who he is. But anyway, I was born on October 7th 1991. I’ve lived in Bethesda, Maryland all my life and I’ve been going to the Stone Ridge School of the Sacred Heart since preschool. I’m going to be a junior there next year. And I’m so fucking ready to get out.”
Jack grinned. “God, I don’t miss high school. Bethesda is right outside of D.C.?”
“Yeah. My best friend goes to Georgetown Visitation in the city.”
Zack, Rian and Jack burst out laughing, poking and fake punching Alex who rolled his eyes.
“I missed something,” Imelda sighed, adjusting her studded belt.
“Alex screwed with at least six of the girls there freshman year. Were there more than that?” Zack asked.
Alex rolled his eyes. “I didn’t technically screw any of them, but we hooked up on multiple occasions. Uhm, let’s see. Caroline, Emily, Kristen, Faren, Gloria and Kelly. Yeah, just six.”
“Jesus. Yeah. Just six,” Imelda snickered, poking Alex’s flimsy bicep, “Playah playah!”
“His royal highness king of the playahs, actually,” Alex corrected in a regal voice.
“Ah yes. Excuse my mistake, master,” Imelda replied in a creepy “Egore” voice.
Rian turned to Jack, who was staring at Imelda shamelessly. “Yessir, there she is…” he muttered under his breath.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jack screamed, attacking Rian with one of his own drumsticks. Imelda had already turned her iPod back on and begun watching the Black Hills of Maryland pass by.
“Hey! Mel!” Matt whispered. Imelda’s eyes popped open and she almost screamed. Matt’s haggard, exhausted face floated before hers, “Can you drive?”
“Not legally,” she replied sleepily.
Matt sighed. “Sorry I woke you. Alex! Alex!”
Alex groaned and flipped over. Imelda stuck her finger in his belly button and he shot forward, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t you were going to wake up like a spaz,” Imelda muttered, settling back against her seat and looking out the window. A neon sign read “Illinois Lottery” inside the window of the gas station. Her watch said five thirty AM.
“Matt, have you been driving all night?” Imelda asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Alex looked at her and smiled softly.
“Yeah. Been running on endless caffeine, but for the safety of the band, I’d like to sleep now. Can you please drive, Alex?” Matt pleaded. Alex nodded and stepped out of the van, yawning and stretching. Matt climbed into the passenger seat and began fiddling with the air conditioner.
“Matt, why don’t you come sleep back here? I’ll trade seats with you, that way you can spread out on the whole row,” Imelda offered, collecting her stuff.
“Mel, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Matt sighed dreamily, climbing into the backseat and kissing her sloppily on the cheek. Alex rolled his eyes.
“Rapist!” he coughed as Imelda cuddled into the front seat with a blush on her pasty cheeks.
“So,” Alex began as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road, “Will you sing with me?”
“What?” Imelda giggled.
“Sing with me. I gotta stay awake somehow. Sing something with me. You pick.”
“I have a feeling that you don’t want to sing any of your own songs,” she looked to Alex for approval and he nodded in agreement, “So I don’t really know. What do you want to sing?”
Alex cleared his throat and hummed a note. “Just talk yourself up, then tear yourself down…” he sang quietly.
Imelda grinned excitedly. “You’ve hit your one wall, now find a way around,” she matched in his tone.
He glanced over and smiled. “You have a beautiful voice. How long have you been singing?”
Imelda laughed. “My mom says she used to hear me sing when I was in her womb. She must have been smoking crack or something… it would explain a lot about me.”
Alex shook his head and looked over at Imelda with an affectionate sparkle in his eye. She blushed a little deeper and Alex grinned largely. “So what’s the problem? You gotta lotta nerve…” he murmured.
Imelda sang the chorus as Alex added occasional backup vocals. “I’m not so naïve-my sorry eyes can see!” he sang, louder than before.
Imelda could hardly believe she was sitting in the All Time Low van, watching Alex Gaskarth drive, listening to Jack Barakat snore behind her, and sing For a Pessimist at six o’clock in the morning. But when she looked over at Alex, belting out the lyrics, she knew she was ready for this life. Not just this summer, but forever. She was born for this.
“So, we know nothing about you. Life story. Go,” Zack commanded Imelda.
“I’m sixteen, there isn’t much to tell,” Imelda laughed. The boys stared at her, waiting.
“Fine. My mom’s name is Holly. I don’t know who my dad is cause he left right after I was born. My mom won’t tell me who he is. But anyway, I was born on October 7th 1991. I’ve lived in Bethesda, Maryland all my life and I’ve been going to the Stone Ridge School of the Sacred Heart since preschool. I’m going to be a junior there next year. And I’m so fucking ready to get out.”
Jack grinned. “God, I don’t miss high school. Bethesda is right outside of D.C.?”
“Yeah. My best friend goes to Georgetown Visitation in the city.”
Zack, Rian and Jack burst out laughing, poking and fake punching Alex who rolled his eyes.
“I missed something,” Imelda sighed, adjusting her studded belt.
“Alex screwed with at least six of the girls there freshman year. Were there more than that?” Zack asked.
Alex rolled his eyes. “I didn’t technically screw any of them, but we hooked up on multiple occasions. Uhm, let’s see. Caroline, Emily, Kristen, Faren, Gloria and Kelly. Yeah, just six.”
“Jesus. Yeah. Just six,” Imelda snickered, poking Alex’s flimsy bicep, “Playah playah!”
“His royal highness king of the playahs, actually,” Alex corrected in a regal voice.
“Ah yes. Excuse my mistake, master,” Imelda replied in a creepy “Egore” voice.
Rian turned to Jack, who was staring at Imelda shamelessly. “Yessir, there she is…” he muttered under his breath.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jack screamed, attacking Rian with one of his own drumsticks. Imelda had already turned her iPod back on and begun watching the Black Hills of Maryland pass by.
“Hey! Mel!” Matt whispered. Imelda’s eyes popped open and she almost screamed. Matt’s haggard, exhausted face floated before hers, “Can you drive?”
“Not legally,” she replied sleepily.
Matt sighed. “Sorry I woke you. Alex! Alex!”
Alex groaned and flipped over. Imelda stuck her finger in his belly button and he shot forward, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t you were going to wake up like a spaz,” Imelda muttered, settling back against her seat and looking out the window. A neon sign read “Illinois Lottery” inside the window of the gas station. Her watch said five thirty AM.
“Matt, have you been driving all night?” Imelda asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Alex looked at her and smiled softly.
“Yeah. Been running on endless caffeine, but for the safety of the band, I’d like to sleep now. Can you please drive, Alex?” Matt pleaded. Alex nodded and stepped out of the van, yawning and stretching. Matt climbed into the passenger seat and began fiddling with the air conditioner.
“Matt, why don’t you come sleep back here? I’ll trade seats with you, that way you can spread out on the whole row,” Imelda offered, collecting her stuff.
“Mel, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Matt sighed dreamily, climbing into the backseat and kissing her sloppily on the cheek. Alex rolled his eyes.
“Rapist!” he coughed as Imelda cuddled into the front seat with a blush on her pasty cheeks.
“So,” Alex began as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road, “Will you sing with me?”
“What?” Imelda giggled.
“Sing with me. I gotta stay awake somehow. Sing something with me. You pick.”
“I have a feeling that you don’t want to sing any of your own songs,” she looked to Alex for approval and he nodded in agreement, “So I don’t really know. What do you want to sing?”
Alex cleared his throat and hummed a note. “Just talk yourself up, then tear yourself down…” he sang quietly.
Imelda grinned excitedly. “You’ve hit your one wall, now find a way around,” she matched in his tone.
He glanced over and smiled. “You have a beautiful voice. How long have you been singing?”
Imelda laughed. “My mom says she used to hear me sing when I was in her womb. She must have been smoking crack or something… it would explain a lot about me.”
Alex shook his head and looked over at Imelda with an affectionate sparkle in his eye. She blushed a little deeper and Alex grinned largely. “So what’s the problem? You gotta lotta nerve…” he murmured.
Imelda sang the chorus as Alex added occasional backup vocals. “I’m not so naïve-my sorry eyes can see!” he sang, louder than before.
Imelda could hardly believe she was sitting in the All Time Low van, watching Alex Gaskarth drive, listening to Jack Barakat snore behind her, and sing For a Pessimist at six o’clock in the morning. But when she looked over at Alex, belting out the lyrics, she knew she was ready for this life. Not just this summer, but forever. She was born for this.