Every Mushroom Cloud Has a Silver Lining

[Zia]

“It’s been an half an hour since that shot,” Ally yelled, interrupting the conversation on how barren Alberta is. “Time to crack open a pixie stick.”

“I don’t need a pixie stick,” I mumbled, turning down the windy road that leads toward Drumheller.

“You’re having a pixie stick,” Nick interjected, ripping off the top of a blue straw, “Man I loved these things when I was younger.” I looked out of the corner of my eye, taking the stick into my hand quickly and placed it in my mouth; making sure not to get the end moist.

“Happy you two,” I asked, chucking the empty tube into the back seat.

“We just cleaned your truck out – it’s not getting messy again,” Ally whined. Nick let a small chuckle slip past his lips. “Oh, did you guys tell anyone in LA that you left?” Nick and I quickly exchanged looks.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said slowly.

“Neither did I,” He replied, quickly fishing out his phone from his pocket. I saw his face fall from my peripheral vision.

“You guys are idiots,” Ally said, but quickly attempted to save herself, “but not you Nick, god of music.”

“Zia, how many texts and missed calls do you have,” Nick asked, probably reading through said messages. I cocked my head, sliding my phone out of my jean pocket and tossing it too him.

“You got a freaking Blackberry,” Ally gawked.

“The three ‘gods of music’ made me accept it,” I replied, snaking my way through town – and quickly returning to the empty country side.

“I should call them back,” Nick sighed, dialling what could be his home number into his phone.

“You got a freaking Blackberry,” Ally muttered again.

“And Starbucks is extremely good,” I smiled. I snapped my jaw shut once we heard a muffled yell come from Nick’s phone.

“Joe, calm down. Yes I’m with her. That’s for me to know and for you to never know. Of course it’s not true. I thought that she would need a vacation because of the media. We’ll be back in a week. Yes I have my charger. Bye.” Nick hung up the phone and went through something on my own.

“We’re here,” Ally and I chorused as we pulled into the gravel driveway of our home. It was a simple two floor and an attic home; with a basement. White siding and a dark blue paneling, blue shutters, abundant flower beds. Behind the house were a few scattered red barns. The fields were filled with corn, wheat, or potatoes; each in perfect little rows. I grinned widely just at the sight of my home and the sound of gravel crunching underneath my tires.

“Good to be home,” I breathed, parking my truck behind the vehicle we used to transport horses. I shoved the keys into my pocket and slid out of the truck. Before I could even take a step toward the house, the door burst open. In mere seconds I was on the shoulders of my younger sister Natalie like a sack of potatoes dangling in the air.

“They do that on a daily basis,” Ally smirked, patting Nick on the shoulder. Natalie turned to face the two swiftly, almost dropping me once she laid her eyes on Nick.

“Good thing Issa’s at dance class right now,” Natalie smiled, taking one hand away from my calf to wave at Nick. I clutched tighter - letting a yelp slip past my lips - to her hoodie as I felt myself tip farther over her shoulder. “I’m Natalie by the way.”

“Nat, put me down this moment,” I groaned, kicking my free leg slowly. The three laughed as I was set down on my feet quickly, “And the torment of Zia continues.” I manoeuvred my way past the large flower bed to the back of the truck. Nick was quickly at my side, taking the bags from my hands. I muttered a quick thanks before we started into the house.

“So where is Nick sleeping,” Ally asked. I turned to her to before I opened the door to eye her.

“He’s sleeping in my room,” I said quickly, opening the door. I was instantly brought into a hug by my Mother.

“It’s so good to have you home,” She cooed, kissing my hair roughly. I pouted. Of course my Mother had to embarrass me in front of Nick when both Ally and Natalie had already. “Have you checked your sugar levels?” I shook my head. Nick and I had checked our levels at the airport after we had landed, but haven’t checked since. “Zianxthe – you march yourself right into that kitchen and check your levels.” I hung my head as I slumped through the doorway; not even home for five minutes and I was already being scolded for procrastinating.

“You let that boy get closer than fifteen feet didn’t you,” My Father gawked once he saw me trudge over to our cupboard with out Diabetes gear in it. I pulled out the small white bag.

“It’s all a lie,” I bellowed, pricking my finger. I was floating in the appropriate rang so I poured myself a glass of chocolate milk.

“Good – now hand me a can of diet coke,” He chuckled, turning a page of the newspaper.

[Nick]

I sat on the couch in Zia’s room, fiddling with the top button on my pyjama shirt; she was in the bathroom changing. Zia’s room was roughly the same size as the one in the apartment, but the walls here were a blue with a purple hue rather than a light purple. Her drum set sat in the corner near her – probably hand made – desk; the base drum had been painted black with a white Z in the center. Her violin and guitar had been set beside the upright cello and the keyboard was propped against the wall. Two relatively small black cases were stashed underneath the desk. The wall behind the instruments was covered in posters of not only my band, but many others; concert tickets, lyric sheets and photographs that mirrored ‘The Wall’ in Zia’s apartment. A small karaoke machine was set up with a small iPod shuffle plugged into the top sat on the desk.

Mr. Manning did not seem to pleased that I had accompanied Zia home – but under the circumstances he seemed to like me. Mrs. Manning was an amazing cook. She had prepared the main course so it was safe for Issa, Mr. Manning, and I to eat; while she had made to different desserts, one that was sugar free and the other was full of sugars for Zia.

“I’ll take the couch,” Zia smiled, walking into the room. Her pale yellow pyjama bottoms dragged along the dark carpet and her black tank hugged her seductively. My eyes traveled to the case of Diet Coke in her left, and a case of regular Coke in her right.

“I’m the guest, I’ll take the couch,” I smirked.

“Karaoke time!”

Zia grinned like a stray cat at a nice bowl of milk as her three sisters pilled into the room in their pyjamas.

“You do Karaoke at ten pm,” I started before Natalie finished my sentence with ‘every night’.

“We used to do it in the garage, but we kept the folks up so we moved to the garage,” Ally explained.

“Then we played in the barn – we got complaints from the neighbours,” Zia chuckled. They must have been loud for people to hear them from such a long distance.

“So Josh helped sound proof Popstar’s room,” Issa beamed, plopping herself down on the midnight blue bed spread.

“I don’t care if one of the gods of music is in our presence – we are still doing that song!” Natalie whined, going through the small iPod.

“Perhaps Nick would like to play guitar for it,” Zia smiled, her pearly whites gleaming brighter, as she sat herself down at the drum set, “Maybe even sing with me.”

“Zia does the perfect upper Joe,” Ally pointed out, making Zia’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

“Sure – let’s get this party started,” I joked, taking the acoustic from Zia, it smelled of her more than her room; a sort of wild flower scent.

“Wrong song,” The four chorused. Zia began banging away at the drum set and I instantly knew one of my songs.

“I'm hot. You're cold. You go around like you know. Who I am, but you don't. You've got me on my toes.” Zia belted.

“I'm slippin’ into the lava. And I'm tryin’ keep from goin' under. Baby, who turned the temperature hotter? 'Cause I'm burnin’ up, burnin’ up for you baby. C'mon girl” I sang with Zia, it was amazing how our voices sounded together; just like Joe and Demi.

“I fell so fast. Can't hold myself back. High heels, red dress. All by yourself, gotta catch my breath,” Zia sang. We sang the chorus again, her sisters catching onto how well our voices matched.

“Walk in the room all I can see is you. Oh, you’re starin' me down I know you feel it too,” I sang, gently strumming the old guitar before we belted out the chorus again and again. Her sisters took control of Big Rob’s Rap; they sang it extremely well.

“She’s So Sorry! Please,” Issa yelled. I set the guitar onto the empty stand, catching a glimpse of Zia’s large smile.

“You just want to see me go nuts don’tcha?” She joked as I took a seat on the floor beside Ally who quickly passed me a diet Coke, “Crank the vocals.” Issa beamed, selecting a song that counted down to three where Zia started drumming.

Zia’s limbs were moving franticly, covering the beat of the guitar on the snare while keeping the original drums from the song. Her blond hair flew about widely.

There was more to Zia than I thought.

[Zia]

“That was a fun little Karaoke party,” I chuckled, climbing into my bed that Nick refused to steal from me.

“That was two hours of pure intensity. When you go on tour your concerts will be sold out,” He replied, lying on the sofa. He looked so comfortable in the position he was in.

“Nick,” I said attempting to hold back a laugh, “You’re sleeping on the couch wrong.”

He eyed me oddly, “Is there some other way to sleep on a couch in Canada?”

“Get up,” I giggled, sliding out of bed and over to him. He reluctantly stood up, taking the sheets and pillow with him. I quickly set to work pulling the cushions off and unfolding the base so the mattress sprang out. I turned towards the blank face of Nick Jonas.

“There’s a difference between couch and couch-bed you know,” He said, staring at the makeshift bed vacantly. I hit his shoulder roughly before I climbed back into my own bed.

“Night Nick,” I smiled, shutting the light off.

“Night Z,” He yawned in reply.