Soria Girl

When I got home that night, it was after ten PM and Dad asked no questions. He just sat on the couch with a Coke in his hands, no sign of a smile on his face.

“This is your fault,” I spat at him, my face red with anger. He looked at me and his mouth parted slightly, as if he didn’t know what he did.

“What?”

“It’s your fault they left!”

Dad glanced at the floor his face fell, sagging eyes dragged further by my words. The TV fell silent and all the boxed up furniture seemed to die once I turned away and ran to my room.

I slammed the door so hard the windows rattled. I hit the bed and took my glasses off, not bothering to change into something more comfortable for sleeping.

And for the first time in a week, I slept.

Sweet closure.

- - -

It was raining the next morning - no surprise there. If it were sunny out, I wouldn’t have minded as much. I was just as mad as I was last night, but a little more sad this time.

That day…well, that day was the day I’d be leaving everything that meant something. I was leaving my friends and school, and never looking back. And there was no more Plaster Caster either - that went up in smoke as soon as I told the others I was moving. Ren and Brendan just kinda burst into flames when I told them I was moving and just went off on their own, so I couldn’t help but to live under the assumption that they now hated me.

Maybe it was because I kind of sprung it on them. Luke, I guess, still thought of me as a friend, so all wasn’t totally lost…maybe…

All my stuff was packed up in boxes far as the eye could see in the living room, piled higher than the ceiling. The ceiling of our year-old house was already pretty high, but that day, as I stared up into it, it felt like it reached into the heavens. I had my two electric guitars in their cases and an amp sitting on top, staring me in the soul. My acoustic was in its cloth case next to me, and out of instinct, I picked it up and started playing. Maybe it was boredom. Whatever.

The sun tried to peer in through the window, the clock read 9:20 AM. In a matter of minutes we’d load the U-Move and sit in Dad’s truck for an eternity of driving from the east to west coast. I strummed the strings and randomly came up with a summery tune. Potential lyrics flashed in my head, begging to come out, but I couldn’t sing. That was kind of Ren’s thing and it would only hurt more if I hummed along. So I just let the voice in my head sing this time.

I wanna feel alive
Just this one time in my life
I wanna be important
I don’t care if it’s a lie
And there’s a buzzing in my brain
Says, “It’s getting kinda late”
But, I don’t wanna go home.

I closed my eyes and struck the same riff over and over again, ignoring the intensifying light that seemed to get brighter. The boxes loomed over me like a hollow audience, echoing the sound waves that got slower and slower. There was no point in performing if I had no backup.

I don’t wanna go home.

Santa Monica was my old home. Claymore was…well, Claymore was where I wanted to be and wanted to stay.

Dad came out of his room with two suitcases and a faint smile. “I’m gonna get loading,” he said, while I kept to myself.

When he went in the garage, I heard three distinct taps on the front door. I stood up and expected maybe one of our sparse neighbors to say goodbye, but when I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat at whom I saw.

The kid wore a gray Bruce Springsteen shirt with blue jean shorts. His shoes, which were dirty, were tied loosely in a single knot. He had short brown hair that was combed forward and up off his forehead, revealing two sapphire pools that were his eyes. He looked sad and maybe regretful, but I couldn’t tell since the rain was pounding so hard, impairing my senses.

It was Ren.

“Why…are you here?” I whispered. He opened his mouth and sighed, closing his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He looked straight at me when he said it, not flinching one bit. “It wasn’t your fault. You know, you’re my friend, and…” he trailed off, stepping closer.

“I’m sorry, man. I should’a told you guys earlier about this,” I said, the tears coming on.

He smiled. “We shouldn’t be spending our last minutes all sad.”

I felt a little better when he pulled me into a hug. His embrace was soft and forgiving, sheltering me from the sound of the rain. And as he held me close, I almost forgot I was leaving him. We must’ve stayed like that for at least two minutes, because when I pulled away, his shirt was soaking wet. It wasn’t from the rain, either.

“Soria,” he said, glancing downward, “I…should probably tell you something.”

My heart pounded in my chest.

His face went scarlet and he ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “…I…like you.”

So wait…Luke was right…I think? “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I like you. Not as just a friend. I mean…” He blushed furiously and rubbed the back of his head. “Like, as more than a friend. I guess I’m sayin’ that I kinda have a crush on you. I…I like you. I figured I should tell you before…well, you know.”

Suddenly, nothing in the world seemed as terrible as I’d made it out to be. I felt my worries wash away, everything regarding my sudden uprooting falling to the floor. I know boys can’t solve problems; I’m a child of the 90s and my mom used to blast girl-punk for me as a little kid, so that taught me those lessons early on. It’s just neat to know that my best friend, who happened to be a cute guy that I always had a subtle crush on, liked me back. Talk about hormones.

He looked at me for a minute. “I like you too,” I whispered back, admitting it to him before I even admitted it to myself, a dumb smile written across my pink face. And with that, he kinda leaned over and did this weird thing where he had to bend over awkwardly in order to kiss me on the cheek. It was the height difference.

I mean, sure, it wasn’t love, but it was a start. And a damn good one too.

Dad was almost done loading the stuff in the car and U-Haul, so our time was almost out. And Lord knows I didn’t want him seeing me with a boy kissing me on the face.

“How ‘bout we do one last song? For time’s sake,” he suggested.

I picked up my acoustic and we sat on the last couch in the empty living room. It was hollow and the house echoed as I started to play. We were doing one of the first songs I’d ever shared with Plaster Caster - it was called “Melody,” and it was just a stupid, fun song I wrote in the spur of the moment. And it was also the first song I’d ever shared with Ren.

Once we powered into the first verse, something just clicked. Like the gears were turning in the world and everything just…was right, for once.

“I came so close
But naturally, I fell so far.
I never knew it would be so hard.
Don’t apologize
We all know it’s not your fault
I knew it was mine from the start.”

He sang like an angel - even better than he normally did. In the middle of the song, I felt the tears coming, but kept on strumming. I mean, it was flat-out heartbreaking, knowing this was the last song I’d be playing with my hero…and I could’ve sworn I saw him wipe a tear away on the bridge, just as we prepared to do the last chorus. It wasn’t for anyone else’s ears. Just for us, and that’s what made it special.

“I’ve heard
The same thing every morning before
But this time
I wanna hear it played over
And now we know
How the lyrics go
And I love the melody
I live the melody
I hear it in my dreams…”

He trailed off on the last word, sending chills up and down my spine. As if on cue, we smiled softly at each other and hugged one last time in the doorway. I think he kissed the side of my forehead - I couldn’t tell since I was so numb from the combination of sadness and relief.

Finally, he walked down the driveway and waved when he got to the bottom of it, beaming up at me. A huge chip was lifted off my shoulder as we said goodbye. Ren - my best friend, my hero, my fellow Plaster Caster member, and maybe, just maybe, my future boyfriend (if I ever came back!) - was no longer mad at me. And man, that was the best feeling I ever had.

Goodbye, Ren Hawker.

Goodbye, Claymore.

And goodbye, home.