Sweet Caroline

And we were great friends. For two years, our lives went undisturbed. We were in most of the same classes for both years, our only difference being that I didn’t do an athletic, instead taking a period to help out in the office. Brendan stuck to his baseball, like he had all through middle school. He tried to balance out his time on the field, which was practice pretty much every day after school, and sometimes on weekends, not including games, with playing and writing his music and hanging out with me. Add that schedule on top of an AP course plan and see how much time he worked with.

I questioned him almost every day on how he kept his high grades, but I still don’t get it. We were frequenters to the House of Blues and a few low key clubs that let in under age kids in Dallas like Mokah and The Door, trying to get as much experience in concerts as possible, convinced that one day, we’d be up on stage, him playing bass, me playing guitar, us rocking out to our original music. We looked up to bands like Fall Out Boy and Panic!, studying what it was they did to get famous.

Of course, I wasn’t Brendan’s only friend at Colleyville Heritage. Our sophomore year, we’d made a pretty large group of people that included individuals from almost every clique, from skaters to preps, and even one member of the drill team. Eventually, a few upperclassmen joined in the group. Three boys a year above us, Tanner, Garrett and A.J., started to hang out with us at lunch, and then started tagging along with us on our weekend trips to the mall. Soon, we had our own little group; me, Brendan, Garrett, AJ, Tanner, my best girlfriend since middle school, Michelle, and a few girls who were there simply because, to put it lightly, the guys were hot. I mean, I spent a good majority of my sophomore and junior years with these guys, so Garrett, AJ, and Tanner were more like brothers to me then anything. I could see how these other girls found them attractive, but not to the extent they did. Brendan, on the other hand…that was a whole other matter.

Over the two years that I’d known him, I’d developed a major crush on him. I felt so stupid and childish using that word when discussing things with Michelle over packages of Oreo’s and Gossip Girl marathons, but that’s how I felt. She thought we’d be, in her words, “ahdorable and completely undeniable” as a couple. Sometimes, she spoke like we were still in sixth grade. I still didn’t know. I knew I liked him; a lot. But I also knew that I valued our friendship too much to ruin it because one of us felt differently about the other.

Our junior year, however, brought some things to light. Brendan, I was beginning to notice, was starting to spend a lot more time with the guys then me. To say I wasn’t jealous would have been a lie.

I missed having my friend, and so much of his time was already taken up by baseball practice that what miniscule time I did see him was in our classes and the chance times I’d swing by practice and watch him hit a few. He also started hiding his new music from me. Usually when one of us wrote a song, we showed it to the other person. Brendan was always writing, but refused to show me what about.

The event that put things into action that year was lunch, a week before the Valentine’s Day dance. We were sitting in the cafeteria, about to dig into our baked ziti (courtesy of his mom, who, unlike mine, had the free time to cook this kind of stuff), when Michelle came barreling in, grasping her iPhone in one hand and a piece of white computer paper in the other.

“Ohmigod, Ohmigod,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath. We looked at her, waiting for her to continue. I was as hungry as a horse, and I wanted to eat. When she couldn’t, the closest person to her, one of the sophomores who sat with us, named Katie, who had shoulder length dark brown hair and olive toned skin, grabbed the paper from her hand, looking it over. Her eyes went wide, and she looked up at us.

“Nuh uhhh!” She looked between me and Brendan, then glanced back at Michelle. “Is this for real? Are they actually coming here?” Michelle nodded, her eyes wide and her breath still labored.

“Completely,” she returned. “Mr. Phelps confirmed it. Apparently some students know them or something. I found the paper in the theater office and asked him about it.” I was utterly confused, as were most of the people at the table.

“What are we talking about?” I asked. Michelle looked at me with a wide smile.

“Skyliners is playing at the Vday dance!” she cried. My eyes widened, and I looked at the rest of the table. Everyone was as surprised as I was.

“Holy crap!” I replied loudly. Okay, maybe a little too loudly. The immediate area around us got quiet. People were staring.

“Take a picture,” I quipped. “It’ll last longer.”

Skyliners was one of those Youtube-made-famous bands, who never did live shows. Ever. They’d started posting low quality vids of their original music and video ideas about a two months before, and since then, they’d kind of become an underground legend among teens. The only reason any of my friends had heard about them was because Brendan and I went to a concert at The Door a month or so before where the band did a cover of one of the Skyliners’ songs, which then got spammed all over the net.

They had that kind of pop-punk feel that myself, along with the guys, liked a lot. But there was one catch to them: no one knew who they were. Every video they made, they wear different costumes. Their first video, they were in superhero costumes, and in the one they posted shortly before that day at lunch, they were firemen. The never showed their faces, and there was no email linked to the account (I’d checked), so we couldn’t figure out who they were. With my extensive computer skills (which I’d learned from my dad), I’d tried to track an IP address with the account on Youtube and their MySpace, but whoever worked on them knew just as much as I did about protection. There was nothing that could trace them anywhere on either site.

“I don’t know about y’all,” Michelle started, gesturing to the table. “But I wanna know who these guys are. I say we try to unmask them at the dance.” I rolled my eyes, but grinned and nodded. It was a good idea. I was extremely curious as to who these guys were. From their voices and great lyrics, they seemed like they’d be pretty cool people.

The bell rang just as Brendan was about to say something, and we all stood, grabbing our stuff. On his way out, Brendan tripped over the leg of his chair. His arms went flailing out, and he landed on the floor in the middle of the isle, his bag full of papers flying out everywhere.

“Cleanup on isle three!” He laughed, but then winced as he tried to get up, so I helped him, and we walked half way to class in silence. We were almost there when he turned to me, still walking, with a frown on his face.

“What’s with the latitude, attitude?” I replied happily to his frown. He didn’t smile, which worried me.

“You don’t, like, have a crush on any of the Skyliners, do you?” I turned to him, eyebrows raised, and almost laughed.

“A crush?” I blurted. “On a Skyliner?” He nodded, looking down, kicking a can in the middle of the hallway. I let out a little giggle. “No, BB, I don’t have a crush on a Skyliner.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled that smile I love so much, and looked at me. He hated it when I called him BB, just like I hated it when he called me Sweet Caroline. I’d told him all those years ago that he’d die if he did it, but I never could get myself to hurt him. It was a curse, I know.

“That’s cool,” he said, looking back down. “Well, listen, I was thinking,” he started back up.

“There’s a shocker,” I interrupted before he could finish. He smiled, but continued without a sarcastic comment back.

“I was thinking that maybe, since, you know, we’re both going to the dance…” He trailed off, glancing at the wall, then back to the ground, like he couldn’t look me in the eye. I could feel my heart speeding up. Was he really about to ask what I thought he was about to ask? “Maybe we could go together? You know, like, as friends?” There it was! Okay, maybe not exactly how I wanted it, but it was a start. I told him I’d love to, and when we got to fifth period, I was pretty sure I had a huge grin on my face.

I was curious, however, as to why he’d asked me about the Skyliners. I mean, sure, I’d shown some interest in them, but he knew very well that I didn’t really crush on celebrities. On the off chance that Michelle was with us at a concert, I’d sometimes comment on how singers looked better/worse in person, like, for instance, Pete Wentz, who I’d thought was God-like since 8th grade, but I didn’t really crush. I never kissed posters or screamed like a fan girl. It wasn’t my thing.

And was that a hint of, I don’t know, jealousy I sensed in Brendan’s voice? Just a bit? Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I didn’t think so.

Over the weekend, Michelle and I went dress shopping with a few sophomores. I had a few old dresses lying around from past events for school, namely theater banquets, but they were all a little too…dressy. None of them were as casual as the Valentine’s Day dance called for. We spent a good two hours looking, and finally decided. Michelle, with her light blonde hair and fair skin, ended up going with a flowing, fiery pink and orange knee length dress with rhinestones on the top, and I went with a blue, strapless number with a black studded belt. The thing I liked the most about it was the color. It was somewhere between the color of the night sky and a dark navy; perfect for my hair color and complexion.

After dropping Katie and the assorted sophomores off at their respective houses, Michelle and I drove over to Brendan’s in her Audi. It was a safe bet that he was there, because when I’d called to see if he was meeting us at the mall (he’d bailed; hanging with the guys again), I’d heard his sister, Melanie, who was home for the weekend, in the background yelling at him to turn his music down.

When we walked into the front door, which was unlocked, Mrs. Brightwell greeted us with a plate of brownies and the latest Mary Kay samples. We grabbed a brownie, some blush, and thanked her as we headed to the apartment, munching on the chocolate. There was music coming from somewhere, so we hurried up the stairs to catch it before anyone saw us. We followed the sounds to the back room, and I heard Brendan talking.

“Wait a sec, Tanner. Okay, it’s ‘ho-nest-ly I can’t get over you.’ The last part is all one word.”

“Okay, okay,” Tanner’s voice called. The music played again, and Tanner, to my surprise, started singing. “I’ve heard/The worst/But ho-nest-ly I can’t get over you.” They stopped, and I heard a call of “All right, man!” and a slapping sound, which we assumed to be a high five. I took this as my cue. I tried to open the door, but it was locked, so I rapped on the door. Things got really quiet, and then, there was a soft call of “Who is it?” I laughed.

“Santa Clause. And if you don’t open the door, you won’t get your presents.”

“It’s Caroline,” Brayden said. “One second.” He directed that towards the door. There was a shuffle and then someone set something down. The door opened with a soft click and Brendan’s head stuck out. Only his head.

“What’s up?” he questioned distractedly. Beads of sweat were falling down his face, like he’d been working out or something, and he had a black streak across his forehead. I tried to wipe it off, and he looked up, trying to see what was on his forehead.

“Listen,” he started, glancing between us. “I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you later?” I nodded, confused, and he smiled, then closed the door in my face.

I turned to Michelle, and she was giving me a look that totally said “What the heck was that?” and at the same time “Oh no he didn’t!” I gave her a look back that said “I have no idea.” Because I honestly didn’t; I had no idea what was going on with my friend that would make him totally ditch me and be so freaking secretive.

As we walked down to the car, though, Michelle stopped just before she opened her door, and said something that really made me think.

“Oh my gosh,” Michelle said. “Maybe he’s starting a band without you.” I looked at her, horror struck.

“He would never!” I said, opening my door. But by the time we got to my house and I was up to my room, I started going over everything in my head, and thought that maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a far fetched idea.

The day of the dance came way sooner then expected. Michelle came over at four to start getting ready with me. She put her hair in this fancy half up half down type of thing with her blonde curls spilling all over her shoulders, and wore this cute, peachy makeup that matched her dress and pink heels. I used a curling iron to make my hair look wavy and undone, and then did my makeup as usual, but with smoky, smoldering eyes, my eyeliner the same color as my black stilettos.

By six thirty, we were ready to go. We drove her Audi to the school and parked, walking into the back door of the big gym with the rest of the student body. It seemed like everyone was there. I could barely breathe, the room was so crowded. I knew that it wasn’t for our school’s excellence in party planning. I mean, sure, Katie and her little friends and done a great job covering the Gym in red colored crepe paper and little hanging hearts, but that’s not what had drawn most of the students at Colleyville Heritage to be crammed into one of the Gyms at said school. Nope.

What’d drawn them was the promise of seeing Skyliners, whom Michelle and I had already planned on unmasking. We knew what to do once we got inside. We mingled a bit, and then, after ditching a small following of girls, snuck back to the drama room, where we were pretty sure the band would be hanging in the dressing rooms with the teacher, Mr. Phelps.

“Phelps, you in here?” Michelle called. Mr. Phelps, our balding, ironic Theater teacher came bumbling into the room, looking surprised, but pleased.

“Well don’t you two look pretty!” I felt myself blush and thanked him after Michelle. “Can I ask you two to do me a favor?” We nodded. “Kimberly was supposed to announce our musical guests, but she got sick this morning, and wasn’t able to make it. Is there any way one of you could do it?” I volunteered first, knowing that, despite her ease with teachers, Michelle hated public speaking in any form.

“I can. What do I need to say?” He gave me a piece of paper with a little note jotted on it, and I read it over a few times. It seamed simple enough.

“I’ll send them shortly after you. Just go ahead and announce them now.” We said goodbye and walked out, without even trying to see if the band was in the dressing room. It would have been way too obvious otherwise.

I stepped on the faux stage as soon as we got back into the gym. Mr. Phelps followed with the four members of Skyliners shortly after. I didn’t really get a chance to see what they were dressed up as when I adjusted the mike stand and tapped it, checking to see if it was on. It was.

“Hey guys,” I said, getting everyone’s attention. “As most of you know, I’m Caroline. Kim couldn’t be here, so I’m going to announce our musical guest for the night. Without further ado, please welcome to the stage, Skyliners!” Everyone in the room cheered loudly, and I walked down the steps on one side as the band members walked on.

For the first time that night, I got a look at the guys in person. Each of them had dark denim skinny jeans on, with red tee shirts that when lined up, looked like they said “Will/you/be my/Valentine?” They all had white Phantom-esque masks on, covering their faces. The looked good, though. I was right about them being attractive in person. Once they started playing, I nodded along to the beat as I started searching for Brendan. He hadn’t texted me telling me he was there yet, and I was kind of getting mad. By the fifth song in the set, I hadn’t found Brendan, and I was more fuming than enjoying my night.

“Okay,” one of the guys on stage said into his microphone. I looked up and noted it was the bass player, wearing the shirt that said “Valentine.” “For our last song before a short break, we’re gonna play a new song. I wrote it, and it’s about this girl I know.”

“A really hot girl,” the guitarist/lead singer, decked out in the “You” shirt, threw in.

“Yeah, she’s beautiful,” the bassist continued. “But she’s an awesome girl, on the inside and outside, and this song is about her. I hope she knows how much I care.” They started playing, the bassist closer to the front than he was for most of the set.

“Ashley, baby. We’re going down slowly, take me. I’ve heard the worse, but ho-nest-ly, I can’t get over you.” Jaw, meet floor. Floor, meet jaw. We all acquainted now? Great. Now can you please separate so I can form coherent speech?