Shooting Stars and Satellites

My vision was blurred, making me see double, but I tried to steady myself as I walked. I grabbed onto the white paneling of the house beside me, walking alongside it, until I reached the door. I could hear the music, laughter and loud voices coming from inside. I held my head as I walked into the house, the aroma of stale cigarettes and alcohol filling my nostrils.

“Where’s Gavin?” I asked a girl, who was sitting on the stained yellow couch beside me. She had bright blond hair, and it was making my head pound even more than it previously was.

“I think he’s in the kitchen,” she told me and laughed.

I nodded my head. “Th – thank you,” I burped.

I made my way into the familiar kitchen, seeing the back of Gavin’s dark brunette locks, and his infamous olive green army jacket. I tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn around, and once he saw my face, his lips pulled back into a smile.

“Hey, baby,” he slurred.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s late.”

He nodded his head, wrapping his arms around me. “You ready to go home?” he whispered into my ear, causing my body to break out in goose bumps.

I nodded my head, inhaling the scent of his cologne from the jacket. “Please?”

He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, before turning back to his friends. “I’ve gotta take Alaska home, guys.”

“Awe, don’t be a pussy, man. Stay and toke up with us!” a guy with spiked black hair said, holding up a joint.

Gavin chuckled. “I would, but I really can’t. She’s gotta get home, before her parents kill the both of us.”

Another guy with long, blond hair, nodded his head. “I’ll see ya later, dude.” He looked at me, and I noticed his eyes were a piercing blue. “Later, Alaska.”

I smiled and waved, before burying my face into Gavin’s chest, causing him to laugh.

“I’ll hit you fuckers up, later,” Gavin yelled, before grabbing my hand and pulling me out to the living room. “You hungry, babe?” he asked, his chocolate orbs looking at me.

I nodded my head. “A little.”

He laughed. “What do you feel like eating?” He slung his arm over my shoulder, as we walked towards his beat up, cherry red 1975 Chevy Mustang. He opened the passenger side door for me, and I muttered a thank you.

I held my head in between my hands as he got in on the driver’s side, and I groaned. “Can we grab a burger?”

“McDonald’s?” he asked, starting the ignition, which roared loudly, causing me to wince.

“Yeah, please.” I buckled my seat belt and leaned back into the leather seat, feeling slightly nauseous.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, rubbing my left shoulder with his thumb.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine once I get some food in my stomach.”

He squeezed my shoulder gently, before messing with a few buttons on the radio. A second later, Kurt Cobain’s voice came flooding into the car, Nirvana’s “About A Girl” playing. Gavin sang along softly, his smooth voice contrasting with Cobain’s, but I didn’t mind much. I manually rolled the window down, feeling the unusual breeze of the night blow through my hair.

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“Alaska Annabelle Brock! Do you know what time it is?” my older brother, Kennedy, asked me as he stood at the foot of the stairs, clad in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and an old black tee shirt, with his shaggy, dark brown hair strewn about the place.

I held my finger to my lips, signaling him to shut up, as I slipped off my silver ballet flats. I clutched the McDonald’s bag in my hands, to my stomach, and tried to pass Kennedy on the stairs. However, he had other plans.

“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed.

I rolled my eyes, stuffing a salty fry into my mouth. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he asked, his brows arching. “Are you drunk, Alaska?” I giggled and shrugged, as he leaned his face close to me. “You reek of weed,” he told me curtly.

I was growing tired of Kennedy’s questions and the fact that he was killing my buzz, was even more irritating. “Look, Kennedy, you’re not dad, so move the fuck out of my way, okay? Don’t worry about what I’m doing on my own time. I don’t ask you what it is you spend your nights doing when you’re out on tour, do I?”

A look of anger flashed in his hazelnut eyes, but was quickly replaced with sympathy. “Alaska, look, I’m sorry, okay? I was just worried about you.”

I nodded my head. “And I’m thankful, but you really shouldn’t be worried. I was just out with Gavin.”

He sighed. “You two are still together?”

“Yes, we’re still together? Do you have a problem with that, Kennedy?” I seethed.

“I know what kind of guy he is, that’s all,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “And what kind of guy is that?”

“He has a bad rep, Alaska. I know that he uses drugs and that he drinks.”

“You drink,” I stated.

“You know what I mean,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Look, as far as drugs go, he only smokes weed. And as far as drinking goes, he’s no worse than you or the rest of the guys.”

Kennedy sighed and rested his hand on my shoulder. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I laughed and tickled the tip of his nose with a French fry. “There’s nothing to worry about, big brother.”

He chuckled and pushed my hand away. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Alaska.”

I nodded my head and he headed for his door, while I headed for the stairs that led to the attic. Before climbing the steps, I looked over my shoulder. “Kennedy?”

He turned around, yawning. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re back home. And . . . thanks for worrying.”

He smiled and nodded his head. “I’m glad to be home. And, I’m your older brother; it’s my job.”

I laughed. “Good night, Ken.”

“Night, 'Laska.”