Renny Boy

By the end of classes the following Wednesday, oh man, that flyer was everywhere (with the permission of the principal of course). You couldn’t walk two steps without seeing it.

You could call us desperate, but we were just in need of a little something, and that’s what our flyer advertised. Something we just realized we’d missed after we printed out all of the flyers was our band’s name. We didn’t even have one yet.

That was the least of our problems, though. Even if our needs were advertised virtually everywhere, what middle schooler would seriously consider joining a band? Well, one that they’d never even knew existed? For the rest of that week, we just ignored it and waited until Saturday to be concerned.

And we were.

Not one kid showed up, and our flyers covered a good two layers of Claymore Middle. Maybe it was because it was science fair season eating up everyone’s lives, but the point was, we wasted about a hundred sheets of paper and an entire cartridge of ink.

Until we got an unexpected visitor.

Soria was strumming away repeatedly, Luke was fidgeting and playing with his flip-flop and I was just bored out of my mind. We were at my house, and my parents were holding their music lessons in a different room than usual. The tryouts were supposed to be in the extra room on the second floor, but…you know…no one came.

“What a flop,” Soria mumbled. “Damn kids and their stupid pop-rock crap…”

Luke shrugged and put aside his bass. “Well, it’s only three in the afternoon. We still got nine hours until tryouts are officially over,” he added.

“Not happenin’. I gotta be back at my house by seven,” she defied, sitting next to me on my bed.

“I’m allowed to stay out,” Luke said, playing with his flip-flop, “my guardians don’t care.” He sparked a thought in our minds. Soria and I looked at him, then each other like he just told us he was an alien.

“Don’t you live with your parents?” Soria interrogated. (In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.)

He looked at the floor and blinked, gasping quietly like he regretted saying it. He hesitated before adding anything. “Um…what?”

“You just said…”

“I didn’t say anything,” he added hastily.

“You said you had guardians…” I mumbled, fanning the stupid fire that Soria lit. (We were in seventh grade, we didn’t have filters on our stupid language.)

There was a brief silence in the room, none of us really knowing what to say. Not even Luke, who sparked the quiet in the first place.

Then, we knew something was…off. “I live in a foster home,” he explained, pausing. Another silence dropped onto the house, neither Soria nor me sure of what to say. He continued like he could read our minds.

“When I was little…there was a fire. And my house got burned down. And my parents got killed. And when I got adopted my brother went to a different home.” He tugged at his flip-flop, breaking it suddenly and gasping a bit.

I held up a finger. “We have a stapler you can use to fix that if you want to.”

He forced a half-smile and licked his lips. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

Soria leaned forward in her seat, clasping her hands together. “Continue. I like story time.”

“We were both adopted by different people, so I don’t know where he is,” Luke went on, glancing back at her. “I know my foster parents love me and all, but it’d just be gnarly if I could see my family again.”

I stopped breathing for a second. This kid had balls to take all this and still be the happiest person I knew. This was the first time I didn’t see him glowing…and he was actually frowning. Frowning, but nowhere near breaking down.

“Dude…that’s awesome,” I announced.

“Huh?” Luke answered, raising an eyebrow.

“You…you’re everyone’s friend, and you’re always smiling, and yet you’re an orphan. That’s what,” I explained, saying exactly what I meant. “And you’re always making others smile.”

“I guess that’s why. I make others happy and that makes me happy,” he mumbled, putting on his famous grin. Soria patted his shoulder.

Wow. I just learned the mystery of Luke’s family, which I’ve wondered about for so long, ever since he landed in Claymore back in second grade. How could all of that have happened in five minutes?

All of a sudden, and out of absolutely nowhere, a huge THUMP echoed throughout the house. Sounding like it came from outside, it caused the three of us to nearly fall over in shock.

“What the crap was that?!” Soria whispered harshly.

It happened again. I leaped off my bed to go to my window - I figured whatever it was, it couldn’t be too smart to do it in broad daylight.

Soria and Luke receded backward, so I guess it was up to me to “save the day.”

Slowly, I pulled aside the curtains and cheap Venetian blinds to reveal the last thing I expected to see…

“BRENDAN!”

“GAAAH!”

Yeah, you guessed it - Brendan Veins, the kid who was caught sneaking around the edge of my driveway, was at my window, spying on us this time.

He started flapping and flailing and waving his arms, and oh. My. God. He looked so stupid.

And once again, he fell backwards – this time, into the bush below the window, two stories off the ground.

When Luke, Soria, and me rushed down the stairs and out the door and to that bush, we had absolutely no idea why he was spying on us.

But Brendan, ever so intelligent, rolled over and wiped a cut on his face, gritting his teeth. He squinted like he was in pain, but slapped on a goofy grin and - once again - slurred his words:

“Can I join your band?”

- - -

Turns out, Brendan didn’t have a drum set with him. He walked to my house, so we had to borrow one from my dad, since he pretty much owned a drum store inside my house. It was a crappy one, mind you; my dad was pretty picky about his stuff.

Regardless of whether or not the drum set was his, Brendan was pretty great. He played fast and loud, but sometimes got a little caught up and went off-beat, although he was great at improvising. He banged his head and moved with the music, so we knew he was just the right kid to be our drummer right away.

He ran through a couple classic rock songs, mimicking each rendition perfectly. He smiled while he did it and never stopped until he was sure we were impressed. And by the looks of Luke and Soria, we were.

“You’re in!” we said almost simultaneously when he was finished with “Crazy Train.”

Brendan looked confused. “In what?”

“The band,” Soria added flatly, raising an eyebrow.

He beamed. “YEAH!” he shouted, taking a moment to squeeze the crap out of me. Then he hugged Soria gently after asking permission, remembering she was a girl. When he got to Luke, he basically tackled him around the waist.

And for once, things were looking up.