Soria Girl

Trees whipped past, water waved, and the grass shined as we left the state without looking back. This heart was on fire and I still wasn’t happy about leaving Claymore. But with Ren and Luke on my side after I did so much, it wasn’t so bad, even though having Brendan still being quiet about the whole thing bugged me.

Dad didn’t bother trying to make me talk, and I’m glad he didn’t. I was crying a little once we got out onto the highway, but I made sure he didn’t see. If he actually caught me, I couldn’t deal with the “what’s wrongs.” The sky was already raining hard enough; I didn’t want the entire world to be made of waterworks here.

I had to wonder what Luke was doing. He was with me all this time, and I though about what he might have been feeling. He could still be in bed, sleeping. He could be with Ren and Brendan, talking crap about me (doubt it – that kid doesn’t have a mean bone in his body). Whatever he was doing, I hope he knew he was freakin’ awesome for helping me stick it out.

And Brendan! That idiot. Luke was right; he was a little stupid. I wondered what he was doing at the moment. Knowing him, he probably forgot I was moving. Or maybe he was really a genius and remembered my betrayal, still hating me for a good reason. Haha. Yeah, right.

I’m sorry. Brendan shouldn’t have been on my hate list - you just can’t take that kid too seriously. He’ll probably forget I moved, go to meet up with Ren and Luke, and say, “Where’s Soria?” Even if he didn’t know it, he was good at making people laugh…and to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have noticed he left the park if he didn’t choose such a colorful farewell.

Whatever. Luke was right when he said Brendan wasn’t too bright, and I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

WELCOME TO ALABAMA

The Florida palm trees waved goodbye to me as we jumped across the border. A tear dripped down my face when we sped out and smiled at what used to be, letting go of nearly everything that had given me the confidence I’d strived to have for so long.

What Ren said to me rang in my head for the rest of my life. He said he liked me (and not in the platonic way). He forgave me. Now, that’s what I call trust - I mean hey, he never said he loved me. I never guaranteed I’d see him again. But how could I forget the most influential kid in my life? And how could I just take that for granted? It’s real hard when he gave me a reason to like the place I thought I’d hate.

Well…one third of the reasons.

…I silently bid farewell to Plaster Caster.

Damn. That’s…just, damn. Me, Luke, Ren and Brendan were tighter than an emo kid’s pants thanks to our common love of music. And it was where I could share my songs where I truly felt comfortable, and they’d accepted me not just as “that chick who could write weird crap.” They accepted me as Soria Atkinson, the songwriter, guitarist, and awesome kid who will forever be a part of Claymore. Probably. Hopefully.

Maybe I did leave my mark. If that only made me miss it even more, well…so be it. I did more than just waste time with those guys. We collaborated and created pure music. I wrote songs that we played perfectly together, and they helped make them more than what I thought they could be, reaching past their potential.

I couldn’t suppress a smile as “Anonymous” rang in my head. That was the song that got us basically famous at Claymore Middle. We entered the talent show as just a bunch of deadbeat kids and came out as Plaster Caster: the supposed best band outta our town. I wrote “Anonymous” in such a rush, I’d forgotten what it really meant until we played it.

I just basically chanted a song in my head and wrote the words on paper. They made no sense until I clipped a few syllables here and there, added an alliteration or two and bam, I had a song. It was my song for the longest time, too. I wrote it in the summer before I moved to Claymore, and within a few months, Ren knew about it and it was ours.

Our song.

We made it ours and made it heard at the talent show, and then the crowd became ours. Man, if only we’d recorded that song before I left. Then I could listen to it over and over and over.

I used to be anonymous.

But with their help, I was a somebody.

And we were (the formerly anonymous) Plaster Caster.

Man, that tugged at my heartstrings. I had to force down a lump in my throat as tears swelled behind my eyes.

The music I’d been listening to this entire trip was simply an afterthought because of the banter going on in my head. I didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but now that thinking about Plaster Caster and stuff had wearied me to the point of sadness, I focused my attention on it instead.

My CD player squeaked as the LED screen switched to track seven. For some weird reason, I’d never really remembered how or why I first heard this song or got into the band that made it, but when the chorus hit me, I went absolutely numb, remembering a night days after my mom’s funeral. My dad sat in the living room of our old house with our radio/cassette player next to him, looking like he was sleeping. I’d been sleeping in my own room, but I got thirsty and decided to get a glass of water, and I ended up hearing the song he was listening to as I walked into the living room.

I’d liked it, so I sat down next to him and listened along to the rest of the tape he was playing.

This voice inside keeps saying:
"Congratulations on what you've done
On all you are and all that you won't become.”
But even when it's hard
I guess I'm never where I don't belong
And I'll get there by knowing I'd get there all along.
This life to me it's like a try for thunder.
This sky that I'm under it's the best sky for me.

I froze. Tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t keep them in, no matter how much I tried.

- - -

“Oh shit! Somebody call an ambulance!”

The soft summer breeze swayed through the lawn and I stood with my tiny mouth hanging open. What I had just seen confused the bananas out of me. My mom was just in front of me, right, tossing a big red ball through the warm air. Her blue eyes were sunny and sweet just like the neighborhood, but as an ear-piercing crack crushed the atmosphere, she fell.

Her face went blank. The ball slowly dropped. The world stopped rotating. And then she dropped face first into the lush grass.

I pondered how she could just collapse like that and fall without going “Ow.” But what the heck did I know? I was barely a toddler. My sundress blew in the seemingly cooler air that passed as she landed at my feet.

“Hey mom?”

My eyes widened as I saw the red wound in her back. Clean, precise, and completely random - she had been shot. By who? We never really did find out. All I really remember was getting heaved away from the sight by my 12-year-old neighbor at the time, while everyone scrambled to aid my dying mother.

Dad was bawling his eyes out after a brief pause of drained emotion, caught in the same world of confusion and sadness that I was on the cusp of discovering. I looked at my neighbor who had carried me away and he shook his head in bewilderment, covering his mouth like he was gonna be sick. Dad pulled out of the crowd and drew me into a huge embrace, like he was trying to right all the wrongs that had just happened. He cried into my shoulder and only stopped to stare me in the eye.

“Soria, your mom, she’s…she’s dead.”

That was that. My stomach turned and I cocked my head, confused by everything that was going on. Then I started crying. It was weird. Like a dream, I just remember little specific pieces and can’t really tie them together.

Turns out, it was a drive-by. But the kicker was that the person who shot her actually thought she was a different person and completely had things out of whack. Sure, it made good news stories for a few weeks, but when things hit the fan, the point was that the guy who shot her ended up in prison and we never heard from him again. Thank God.

But there I was in the Ford, crying like I had been nine years ago. I just couldn’t believe that a simple song like that could bring me back to such an event…and it was so clear the way I remembered a few scenes, too…

Another song snuck up on me. Track eight – it was a song that I’d actually heard at Ren’s birthday last year. We were on the Rock N’ Roll Express ride at the carnival and some carnie’s SkyPod apparently had it.

Do you remember what we couldn’t put away
Do you remember what we couldn’t put away
Do you remember what the music meant?

My heart pounded with the fast beat. Keyboards and guitars tied together in the background, behind two men and a woman who were singing about music.

Do you remember what the music meant?

I inhaled sharply when I heard that line, confused and a little dizzy at the realization. The chick singer just asked me a question.

Did I remember what the music meant?

Yes. Yes, I did.

Yeah. It sounds ridiculous, taking a question from a song seriously.

Come to think of it, my entire life had a soundtrack. When my mom was shot, “Try For Thunder” just brought it back to me. The first and last song I ever shared with Ren was “Melody.”

And as I sat in the passenger’s side, I was realizing all this stuff to the tune of “Speakers Push the Air.”

And nothing else matters…
And nothing else matters when I turn it up loud…

That’s it.

I could go the rest of my life with headphones on and a guitar in my hands.

And nothing would get to me.

How freakin’ cool is that?