Time Runs Through Our Veins.

The bell rings. Finally, Wednesday is over. At least the hard part. I stay in my calculus class as long as I possible can without raising the suspicion of my teacher. Before I slip out I make sure I wont run into anyone and then make a dash for the parking lot. I guess baseball is useful for something. When I get to the car I notice Jordan and Nolan aren’t there.

Like, how could I not? I wait. And wait. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

I start to get annoyed and storm into the school to look for them. The hallways are empty. All but one.

George, Joey, Dylan, and Steve are gathered around a door banging on it as if Megan Fox is giving blow jobs to the first guy who gets inside.

Naturally I’m curious as to what they’re doing so I ask.

“The queer and his boyfriend locked the fucking door.” Dylan answers. “They need to grow a dick and face their ass-kicking like men and not like bitchsquealers!” He yells at the door.

Now I’m curious as to who’s in there, so I ask. The answer makes me slam Dylan into the lockers. “My Fucking Brother?! You Fucking know you don’t mess with him. I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight before my dad fucks up your life!”

As soon as I let him, he sprints down the hallway with Joey on his heels.

George and Steve stay and look at me strangely. The bathroom door opens and Jordan darts behind me. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, can we just go?” There’s that childlike voice again.

“Go to the car. I’ll be there soon.”

“No, I’m not going without you.” Damn he knows I don’t want him around when I kick their asses.

I nod once and glare at George. “Leave. Jordan. Alone. I’ve said it once, and I swear to god if I have to say it again ill make sure the only job you’ll ever get is as a burger flipper. Nolan, too. Understand?”

They nod and retreat.

I swear thickheaded punks should have been aborted.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jordan starts toward the car. “They only get worse.”

“Wait. They do this often?”

Nolan sighs. “Everyday”

I ignore him and ask Jordan again.

“Yes Rylan, Everyday.”

“Why don’t I know about this?” I demand.

“Because I don’t want to be the pussy who ran to his brother just cause he was getting picked on.”

He makes sense, but still. He’s my brother. My best friend. If my other ‘friends’ cant understand that they need to leave him alone then I’ll kick everyone of their asses. “Its not okay, Jordan. You need to let me know what’s up.”

“What about twin telepathy?” Nolan inquires.

I consider him for a minute. Does he really go through this everyday? And its probably worse for him cause he’s not a James’.

“It works most of the time.” I answer honestly.

“Broken bones, bad breakups, excitement, finishing sentences. Half of the time I’ve done what he want before he even ask.” Jordan finishes. By this time were pulling into the garage.

We all file through the door that connects to the kitchen and then go through the foyer. The mail doors are on the right and the double grand stair cases are on the left. One set leads to the right wing of the house and the other to the left. The right wing is my parents half and the left side is ours.

There’s rarely ever a time when we enter each others domain. The guest rooms are on their side of the house.

Each wing has four rooms. On our wing we each have our own bedrooms with a bathroom joining them. Now, the other room we have used to be two but we knocked down the wall so we’d have more space.

Lets see…How do I explain this?

When we was little out mom forced us to learn how to play a classical instrument. Eventually we persuaded our mom to let us choose another one, so we each play two. I play the piano/keyboard and the Guitar. Jordan plays the violin and the drums.

So anyway, the extra large room is our music room. We record covers of songs and create awesome medleys. The room is packed. Two drum kits (and Jordan has one in his room too). Four keyboards (and one in my room). Three electric guitars, and one acoustic (and one in my room). Two violins (and one in Jordan’s room) plus all the recording equipment and Amps. In one closet is all the accessories and wires needed and the other is full of junk food. There’s two mini-fridges and at least three fans stored in there too. Hey, we get hungry and hot. We’ve spent countless hours in here. And don’t think its crowded, cause it certainly is not.

Did I mention we have a grand piano in the living room? Mom’s, what’re you gonna do?

As awesome and important as that room is I don’t lead Nolan there. There’s no need. And its kind of our special place. Nothing against Nolan. We hardly let our parents go in.

So I take him to my room. My seriously conflicted room. It’s obvious that a teenage boy lives here, but it IS clean. I cant stand things laying around uselessly. The walls are an awesome purple color (I think its called eggplant) but they aren’t pristine. Sometimes when I have an epiphany, I find colors that match ‘eggplant’ perfectly, so I have to paint. All kinds of things. There’s a bird tearing a worm out of my window in a black/grey combination. The picture is harsh, but it says something. I’m not really sure what yet, but it says something.

In addition to the bird and worm, there’s dragonflies everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Then there’s fireflies in yellow and mice in silver. And while everything is carefully well drawn and painted it all has a contradiction. Great colors with harshly straight lines or lines that don’t even meet.

Nolan’s eyes widen when he notices the sketch I started on the for wall yesterday. it’s a wolf. A rabid wolf. It felt right then and I didn’t know why. I do now.

“I didn’t know you liked art this much.” He comments. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks. But nobody really knows. Just Jordan and my parents.” I take off my jacket and fling it over the computer chair. Nolan takes his off and sets it on my (obsessively) made queen size bed. He looks out the floor to ceiling windows over Downtown. I open my walk in closet and start taking out my stash of paint and brushes. When I set up the easel, Nolan questions me about the band posters.

“I didn’t know you like Framing Hanley or Bullet For My Valentine. I didn’t know you liked rock at all.”

“Dude, rock is all there is. What’d you think I like? Drake? Katy Perry? Pitbull?” I laugh.

Nolan looks out the window again, avoiding my eyes. Oh God!

“You didn’t think I liked Katy Perry, did you?!”

“Well…” Nolan trails off and bobs his head.

I face palm.

“Pierce the Veil is my favorite.” I clarify. “I might look prep, but there’s a little more to me than that.” I leave Nolan and go get our painting from the car. When I come back I set it up, hook my Ipod up to my surround sound stereo system and put it on shuffle.

Nolan seems happy with the mix of music and that just makes the project that much better.

We finish in about two hours. I leave the painting in the middle of the room to dry, instruct Nolan that he can wash his hands off in the bathroom sink, and head downstairs to rinse the brushes. I wonder where my parents are. Usually they’re home by now… At least they used to be.

Damn

I rise the brushes and head back upstairs to find an empty room.

I figure he went to find Jordan but panic when I realize that the door to the music room is open. We never leave those doors open.

I stand in the doorway and see Nolan. He’s sitting on one of the chairs with my Maestro (by Gibson) sitting on his lap. His fingers curl around the neck of the guitar and with his eyes closed, he starts strumming the first few lines of Green Days ’Wake me up when September Ends’

I want to yell at him . I want to chew him out because he doesn’t belong here. Because this isn’t his place.

But I cant. Because as much as I know he shouldn’t be here, I feel in the bottom of my stomach, that he should. That he belongs right here in my special place.

And that feeling pisses me off.

“What are you doing?” I ask, defensively.

He stops and looks at me with wide eyes. “Rylan! I’m so sorry!” He jumps up and puts thrash back on his stand.

“I think its time for you to go.” I say, tightly. “do you need a ride home?”

Nolan looks a little worried. “No. Jordan said he’ll take me home.” He brushes past me and straight to Jordan’s room.

What the hell is going on?

Its only a matter of time…