Smiling at Everything

Jazz dropped her eyes back to the table. They weren't sitting there for her. They were sitting there for Zack. They felt bad for making him sit next to her.

A salad appeared in Jazz's line of vision. Her eyes followed the feminine hand she knew well attached to the plastic bowl. She stared at the pink-haired woman across from her, questioning the action.

"We used to share our salads with each other in middle school," Neon said, "Remember? Your chef always made some intricate salad and I would have a salad I threw together last minute so we would combine them."

Jazz's heart ached. She remembered those times. That was when she was still happy, still pure and innocent. She missed that.

"Yeah, I remember," Jazz said.

"We used to share everything," Neon said.

"We did."

"I should have known. I knew you had changed. Fuck. You stopped coming over, you stopped sleeping, you started drink crazy amounts of caffeine. Then, you started wearing those bracelets all the time. I knew there was something up with it. But I didn't do anything. I'm a terrible friend."

Neon thought she was a bad friend? Jazz couldn't believe it. Neon was supposed to be angry at her not be calling herself a bad friend.

"No, you're not," Jazz denied.

"Jazz, I wasn't there when you needed me. Friends are supposed to be there for each other," Neon pushed.

"I didn't tell you though. You couldn't have helped if I didn't tell you."

"I could have at least asked what was up. I could have brought it up. I could have done something."

"We all could have done something," Lestat said from his seat next to Neon, "I mean, we all knew that you did weird things. We just never knew why."

"We never got to know you," Dante said, "I didn't realize that till we met your parents. Jazz, we didn't know anything about you going into the band and we didn't try to change it. You shouldn't have had to say something. We should have known you so well that we noticed."

"But I was lying to you when I met you. There's no way you could have deciphered fact from fiction," Jazz pointed out.

"I'm sure we made you feel like you had to lie to us. If we had made you more comfortable around us, you would have let walls down that would have let us know something was wrong."

"Who said I wasn't comfortable with you?"

"Jazz," Dorian cut in, "You tense everytime I hug you. Since we met, you would tense at any contact from the opposite sex. You can't say you were comfortable with us."

"You noticed?"

"Of course I noticed. Jazz, my father beat the hell out of me. I flinched when people touched me because I was afraid for the longest time. I looked for other people who did the same things I did so that I didn't feel like I was the only one afraid. I knew Lestat and Armand had gone through it but they never seemed afraid of anything. I thought you're parents beat you, Jazz. I saw the bracelets and the smiles that didn't reach your eyes, I felt you flinch when I hugged you and I just assumed you endured physical abuse."

"That should have been something I noticed," Neon interjected.

"Do you understand why we're hurt now?" Dorian asked, "Not because you lied to us but because we all made assumptions about who we thought you were. And you never corrected any of us. You just existed, waiting for someone to figure it out. As your friends, we should have been the ones figuring it out. We should have questioned you. We feel bad for not doing that."

"You can guarantee we'll do something now though," Lestat said, "We're going to help you get better."

"I am better," Jazz pushed.

"Don't lie to us," Dorian commanded.

"We're here to help you, Jazz. Now that we know, you shouldn't fight us," Arpeggio said.

Jazz hesitated, glancing over the faces of her friends. They wanted to help her. They weren't abandoning her or kicking her out of the band. They were offering something she needed desperately.

She looked up at Zack. He smiled down at her, encouraging her to accept her friends' offer. The bassist knew he helped her some but she needed her friends to contribute or she would never fully get better.

Family was also necessary in most cases, but Jazz wasn't exactly close to hers.

"I," Jazz hesitated, "I guess I need help."

"Well, we'll be here for you," Lestat said.

"Every step of the way," Neon added.

"Starting now," Dorian said, "Jazz, eat some food. You'll lose your ass and boobs if you don't. Zack won't be happy about that."

"Her first bit of advice from us had to be from you?" Lestat asked.

"You got a problem with it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Tough brownies. You can't do anything about it."

"Besides sew your mouth shut and throw you to the straight women."

"Sweet holy powers of Dolce and Gabbana, give me strength not to beat this boy."

"You couldn't beat me if you tried."

"Oh yeah?"

Dorian grabbed the salad in front of Jazz and catapulted it at Lestat's face. The bowl hit Lestat's face and fell to his lap, a splotch of ranch dressing staining the skin it hit. Lestat wiped the substance from his face and glared at Dorian, who smirked in return.

"Now it looks like you have jizz on your face," Dorian stated.

Arpeggio groaned, "Why?"

"Oh shut up. You and Jack were whispering dirty things to each other this morning."

"When are they not whispering dirty things to each other?" Neon asked.

"When you and Alex aren't attached at the groin," Jazz answered, a smile on her face.

It wasn't forced. Her friends loved her, accepted her just as Zack had. Faking anything wasn't necessary anymore. She could be herself. If she wasn't happy, she didn't have to smile. If she felt like crying, she could cry. Her secret was in the open. She didn't have to hide. That in itself put her at ease.

But it would take awhile to get used to.

Laughing, Dorian exclaimed, "Lowry family double burn."

"Quick, send Robert a text high-five," Jazz said.

Before Dorian could respond, a shower of chocolate-flavored cereal assaulted the pair. Dorian yelped, ducking under the table. Jazz clung to Zack for protection. Holding a now empty Styrofoam bowl, Lestat smirked.

"You bitch," Dorian called from under the table.

"Guys, we have to go back in for our interview after this. Do you have to start covering each other in food?" Dante asked.

Dorian reached out from under the table, grabbing his bowl of Jell-O and blindly throwing it. The green substance left the bowl mid-air and landed on Dante's face. Smiling, Jazz leaned forward and dragged a finger across his stained cheek. She shoved the finger in her mouth to remove the fruity substance and pulled her finger out of her mouth with a 'pop.'

"Could use a little less Dante," Jazz said.

Dorian raised his hand from under the table, poised for a high-five. Jazz clapped her hand against his waiting one. Zack shook his head, smiling. It was nice seeing Jazz this open around her friends.

Jazz looked up at Zack. He had been right. He had always been right. And he hadn't rubbed in her face. Instead, he was patient with her throughout it all. She couldn't have asked for anyone better.

Without hesitation, Jazz leaned upward, pressing her lips against Zack's. Dorian immediately broke out in cheers, followed by the other members of the two bands.

She could get better. The persistent memories, the cutting urges, her caffeine obsession, and getting her sleep pattern back to normal, it would be fixed. No matter how hard it would be, she could handle it. Because, now, she had her friends to help her.