Status: Reviving...
The Punchline to the Joke Is Asking
Chapter 6
Once we left the club, everybody but Andy and I was at least a little tipsy.
As we walked down the sidewalk, Joe just brushed a huge, well-muscled man, who stopped and shoved Joe lightly.
"Watch it." He growled.
"No, you watch it." I said, glaring at him as I squared off to him.
"What'd you say, kid?" He breathed, stepping forward.
"You heard me, asshole." I said, and he stepped right up so we were chest-to-chest, with him glaring almost straight down at me, our faces almost touching.
"I think you'd better watch you mouth, shrimp."
"I think you'd better watch your step." I retorted, shoving him lightly.
He shoved me back, enough to make me take a step back, and I hit him in the jaw with a left hook, sending his head snapping up and back.
He shoved me even harder, but I held my ground, so he geared up to take a swing.
But before he could land the shot, I brought my foot up, well above my own head, to connect with the side of his. He dropped, his legs crumpling weakly under him as he hit the pavement with a thud.
I glanced at the side of my sneaker, then spit on it, rubbing the blood off the white rubber edge onto his parachute pants.
"You don't shove my friends, and you don't shove a girl." I told the unconscious guy, then turned towards my friends.
Gabe was cheering for me, as were Bill and Brendon, and Pete was grinning a little, but Patrick, Ryan, and Joe weren't as drunk, and Andy wasn't drunk at all.
I just shrugged off the look they were giving me and continued off down the sidewalk, the guys trailing behind me back to the hotel.
*
"Ok, never have I ever... tried drugs." Andy grinned, and everyone but he and I put a finger down.
"Umm, never have I ever... seen a Disney movie." I nodded, and the guys gaped at me in shocked horror, all of them putting down a finger. Gabe pretended to sob onto Bill's shoulder, whimpering about the horror of such a deprived child.
"We'll fix that." Pete assured me, completely serious.
"Never have I ever kissed a guy." Patrick smirked, and Pete, Gabe, Bill, Brendon and I each put a finger down.
"Never have you ever kissed a girl, either." Gabe muttered, and Patrick whacked him with a pillow.
"Yes, I have!"
"Umm, never have I ever... shit." Pete muttered. "Umm, Ooh! Turned down a dare."
Patrick, Andy, and Ryan all put down fingers.
"Never have I ever tried to kill myself." Brendon grinned.
Pete and I both put down a finger, then looked at each other in surprise.
"Never have I ever done a flip." Gabe said, and Joe, Andy, Pete, Brendon, Ryan, and Bill all put down fingers.
"I'm out." Pete sighed.
"Same." Bill nodded.
"Me too." Brendon chimed in.
"Never have I ever smoked anything." Patrick said, and Gabe and Joe dropped a finger.
"Damn." Gabe said. "I'm out."
"Out." Joe scowled.
"Never have I ever even tried a sip of alcohol." I said wickedly, and Patrick and Andy both dropped a finger.
"Details." Andy glared at me.
"Never have I ever gotten a tattoo." Patrick grinned.
Andy and I both dropped a finger.
"Never have I ever seen the ocean." I grinned triumphantly.
"Shit." Andy dropped his last finger, and Patrick was only left with one.
"We'll fix that, too." Pete said.
"Never have I ever... umm..." Patrick frowned, trying to come up with something. "Picked a lock?"
I dropped a finger. One left.
"Never have I ever driven a car."
"Damn." Patrick cursed, dropping his last finger.
"I'd say we'd fix that, too, but the thought of you driving scares me." Pete grinned, and I whacked him with a pillow.
Later, alone in my hotel room, there was a knock on the door joining my room to Pete and Joe's.
"It's open." I called, too lazy to get up from where I was sitting cross legged on top of the bed, reading.
Pete came in and wandered over, sitting next to me on the bed, his expression serious.
"What's up?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Have you really tried to kill yourself?" Pete blurted out, looking me in the eyes.
I blinked, thrown off, then glanced down at my closed book. "Yeah."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"I tried a couple years ago. I overdosed on my Atavan." Pete said, staring at the bed as if he could see through it.
"I tried four times, four ways." I said quietly. "Last time, my friend talked me down off the roof of a building. Before that, I tried cutting." I glanced at the scars crisscrossing the inside of my left forearm. "Didn't go deep enough. Second time, I swallowed all my Atavan, too." I shook my head. "I was eight when I tried to hang myself, but I let go of the wire when I passed out and woke up just fine." I touched the thin, long scar just under the corner of my jaw. "Mostly." The scar was mirrored, the same on each side of my face.
Pete looked at me sadly. "Think it was good luck or bad luck that saved you?"
I sighed. "Bad luck. Nothing got easier. Nothing will. The only thing that changed is I've learned to let it go and not care."
"I know it was good luck that saved me." Pete said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have Bronx, or Ashlee, or the guys, or you."
"That's a pretty thought." I said wistfully.
"Don't you have something worth living for now?" Pete asked.
I looked at him. "Like what?"
"The guys. Your music. A home."
"I don't know. You guys are really all that's new to me. Stuff is stuff, and I've always had music. I think you guys are why I haven't tried again. But I've learned that everything good ends. It's only a matter of time."
"Everything ends." Pete agreed. "But new things come along. Good things."
"Bad things, too." I put in.
"But there's always something good." Pete said, and I looked up, meeting his eyes.
"You believe that?" I asked.
"Completely."
I looked down. "Wish I did."
When we made it back to the airport in Chicago, Ashlee was waiting with Bronx.
Pete's face lit up and he kissed Bronx's forehead, then his wife, then took his kid, holding him close and talking to him while Ashlee put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.
I looked away, refusing to let the tears burning in my eyes fall. I'd never have that, but I'd never wanted it so badly.
Then someone nudged my shoulder, and I looked up and saw Joe, offering me a purple Monster. I grinned halfheartedly, taking the can, and he clinked his own blue one against it, then we both took a swig.
"Thanks, Joe." I grinned, and he ruffled my hair.
"Kid, the guys at Decaydance brought up a good point the other night when we were talking about you." Pete began cautiously. That wasn't good.
"Yeah?" I asked, feigning disinterest.
"We know you're a minor, but they're letting that slide." Pete sighed. "But they do have to make sure you get a formal education. What grade did you leave off at?"
I stared at Pete for a second, my mouth slightly open, then started laughing.
"I think she's lost it." Andy observed, snickering at Pete's exasperated expression.
"No, trust me, I'm not quite crazy yet." I choked out, grinning. "I'm done with school, though."
"How are you done with school? You're 16!" Joe blurted, and shrank down when I glared at him.
"Good lord, are you really?" Pete asked, impressed.
"What?" Patrick blinked, and Andy just looked confused.
"Almost 17!" I protested. "And I'm done with school."
"Kid, please-" Pete began.
"I'm done! You can call the school and ask them." I rolled my eyes.
"Where'd you go?" Pete asked, obviously gearing up to do it. He'd pulled up his laptop, ready to Google and call the school.
"Barrington Academy." shrugged. "Nice name for a ghetto school, right?"
Pete raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously, then focused on his computer. "It's a real school." He admitted a moment later.
"Yeah, I'm calling to find out about one of your previous students, Cyn." Pete said, after holding for a good 10 minutes. "Can you like, summarize her history there for me?"
"He's trying to sound responsible." Joe giggled, and I tried to smile at him, but I was too anxious. I really didn't want Pete talking to my school.
Pete had been sitting in silence for a good minute, his eyebrows raising and looking more and more stunned, staring at me.
I shrank down on the couch between Joe and Patrick, wincing.
"Hang on a sec." Pete said, and held the phone away from his ear and putting it on speaker. "Could you repeat that from the beginning?"
The person on the other end of the line sighed. "Cyn transferred into Barrington Academy at the beginning of fifth grade." A woman's snotty voice said. "She was immediately placed into advanced classes and skipped grades 6 and 7, moving straight into eighth grade. She had consistent straight A's every year in advanced, honors, and AP courses, earning many academic awards and graduating last year as valedictorian, with recognition in the artistic field. We have no records of detentions, suspensions, or any sort of disciplinary measures needed for her, and her teachers praised her as a hard worker, dedicated, and an extremely bright student.” The nasal voice finally took a breath.
“Do ya miss me, Miss Jenks?” I grinned wickedly. I knew that voice.
“Very much, Cyn.” The nasal voice answered drily. “Barrington Academy is so much… quieter without you here.”
I snickered. “Thanks. Anyway, that’s it. Kbye.” I hit the ‘end call’ button on the phone, then rolled my eyes. “She freakin’ hated me.” Then I looked at the guys, who were all staring at me. “What?”
“Why aren’t you in college?” Joe asked testily.
“Homeless kids don’t get scholarships.” I reminded him. “Especially ones with no parents to sign the form to ship them off to school, anyway.” I shrugged. “’Sides, who needs college? It’s for losers who think a few more years of chemistry will get them somewhere.”
“But… you’re some kinda genius.” Patrick said slowly.
I blinked at him. “Well, duh. I had to be. It’s not easy, being on your own when you’re 10. I had to learn fast and have a lot of common sense.”
“You don’t have any sense.” Andy rolled his eyes.
“That’s actually helpful, too.” I nodded in agreement. “Run first, think later.”
“Just what have you been through, specifically?” Pete asked. I knew this question would come up, some way, some how, but I’d always wanted to avoid it.
I sighed. This wasn’t something to play games about.
“I’ve had heat stroke, hypothermia, tried suicide several times, I’ve been shot, I’ve been raped, I’ve been beaten and left for dead, I’ve had drug lords put a price on my head, and I’ve sold people out to the vice to keep Trey and Jamie safe.” I admitted, looking at the floor. “I’ve shot people so I wouldn’t get killed myself.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Jesus.” Patrick finally breathed.
“Yeah.” I agreed softly, nodding as I stared at the ground. “The streets were rough, but it was better than where I came from. I had a family, for a while.” I smiled crookedly, nostalgic. “I miss them, sometimes.”
“What about us? Aren’t we your family?” Joe asked, and I looked up at him in surprise.
“You guys’re awesome, but…” I sighed. “Trey and Jamie are the ones who always had my back.”
“You talk about them a lot.” Andy remarked, a question in his eyes.
“I was 10 when I got to New York. I knew not to trust anybody, but I couldn’t protect myself. Jamie found me, started looking out for me. He taught me how to take care of myself. I found Trey about a year after I wound up with Jamie, and the three of us stuck together, took turns bringing home food for the day. We watched out for each other, kept each other sane… mostly.” I grinned crookedly, shaking my head. “They can look out for themselves, but… I wonder how they’re doing, sometimes.” I frowned a little. “I’m a little worried about Trey; he never was the most careful about who he talked to or what he said, and Kyle said he disappeared.” I sighed. “I hope he’s ok.”
“Wanna go visit?” Pete offered.
As we walked down the sidewalk, Joe just brushed a huge, well-muscled man, who stopped and shoved Joe lightly.
"Watch it." He growled.
"No, you watch it." I said, glaring at him as I squared off to him.
"What'd you say, kid?" He breathed, stepping forward.
"You heard me, asshole." I said, and he stepped right up so we were chest-to-chest, with him glaring almost straight down at me, our faces almost touching.
"I think you'd better watch you mouth, shrimp."
"I think you'd better watch your step." I retorted, shoving him lightly.
He shoved me back, enough to make me take a step back, and I hit him in the jaw with a left hook, sending his head snapping up and back.
He shoved me even harder, but I held my ground, so he geared up to take a swing.
But before he could land the shot, I brought my foot up, well above my own head, to connect with the side of his. He dropped, his legs crumpling weakly under him as he hit the pavement with a thud.
I glanced at the side of my sneaker, then spit on it, rubbing the blood off the white rubber edge onto his parachute pants.
"You don't shove my friends, and you don't shove a girl." I told the unconscious guy, then turned towards my friends.
Gabe was cheering for me, as were Bill and Brendon, and Pete was grinning a little, but Patrick, Ryan, and Joe weren't as drunk, and Andy wasn't drunk at all.
I just shrugged off the look they were giving me and continued off down the sidewalk, the guys trailing behind me back to the hotel.
*
"Ok, never have I ever... tried drugs." Andy grinned, and everyone but he and I put a finger down.
"Umm, never have I ever... seen a Disney movie." I nodded, and the guys gaped at me in shocked horror, all of them putting down a finger. Gabe pretended to sob onto Bill's shoulder, whimpering about the horror of such a deprived child.
"We'll fix that." Pete assured me, completely serious.
"Never have I ever kissed a guy." Patrick smirked, and Pete, Gabe, Bill, Brendon and I each put a finger down.
"Never have you ever kissed a girl, either." Gabe muttered, and Patrick whacked him with a pillow.
"Yes, I have!"
"Umm, never have I ever... shit." Pete muttered. "Umm, Ooh! Turned down a dare."
Patrick, Andy, and Ryan all put down fingers.
"Never have I ever tried to kill myself." Brendon grinned.
Pete and I both put down a finger, then looked at each other in surprise.
"Never have I ever done a flip." Gabe said, and Joe, Andy, Pete, Brendon, Ryan, and Bill all put down fingers.
"I'm out." Pete sighed.
"Same." Bill nodded.
"Me too." Brendon chimed in.
"Never have I ever smoked anything." Patrick said, and Gabe and Joe dropped a finger.
"Damn." Gabe said. "I'm out."
"Out." Joe scowled.
"Never have I ever even tried a sip of alcohol." I said wickedly, and Patrick and Andy both dropped a finger.
"Details." Andy glared at me.
"Never have I ever gotten a tattoo." Patrick grinned.
Andy and I both dropped a finger.
"Never have I ever seen the ocean." I grinned triumphantly.
"Shit." Andy dropped his last finger, and Patrick was only left with one.
"We'll fix that, too." Pete said.
"Never have I ever... umm..." Patrick frowned, trying to come up with something. "Picked a lock?"
I dropped a finger. One left.
"Never have I ever driven a car."
"Damn." Patrick cursed, dropping his last finger.
"I'd say we'd fix that, too, but the thought of you driving scares me." Pete grinned, and I whacked him with a pillow.
Later, alone in my hotel room, there was a knock on the door joining my room to Pete and Joe's.
"It's open." I called, too lazy to get up from where I was sitting cross legged on top of the bed, reading.
Pete came in and wandered over, sitting next to me on the bed, his expression serious.
"What's up?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Have you really tried to kill yourself?" Pete blurted out, looking me in the eyes.
I blinked, thrown off, then glanced down at my closed book. "Yeah."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"I tried a couple years ago. I overdosed on my Atavan." Pete said, staring at the bed as if he could see through it.
"I tried four times, four ways." I said quietly. "Last time, my friend talked me down off the roof of a building. Before that, I tried cutting." I glanced at the scars crisscrossing the inside of my left forearm. "Didn't go deep enough. Second time, I swallowed all my Atavan, too." I shook my head. "I was eight when I tried to hang myself, but I let go of the wire when I passed out and woke up just fine." I touched the thin, long scar just under the corner of my jaw. "Mostly." The scar was mirrored, the same on each side of my face.
Pete looked at me sadly. "Think it was good luck or bad luck that saved you?"
I sighed. "Bad luck. Nothing got easier. Nothing will. The only thing that changed is I've learned to let it go and not care."
"I know it was good luck that saved me." Pete said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have Bronx, or Ashlee, or the guys, or you."
"That's a pretty thought." I said wistfully.
"Don't you have something worth living for now?" Pete asked.
I looked at him. "Like what?"
"The guys. Your music. A home."
"I don't know. You guys are really all that's new to me. Stuff is stuff, and I've always had music. I think you guys are why I haven't tried again. But I've learned that everything good ends. It's only a matter of time."
"Everything ends." Pete agreed. "But new things come along. Good things."
"Bad things, too." I put in.
"But there's always something good." Pete said, and I looked up, meeting his eyes.
"You believe that?" I asked.
"Completely."
I looked down. "Wish I did."
When we made it back to the airport in Chicago, Ashlee was waiting with Bronx.
Pete's face lit up and he kissed Bronx's forehead, then his wife, then took his kid, holding him close and talking to him while Ashlee put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.
I looked away, refusing to let the tears burning in my eyes fall. I'd never have that, but I'd never wanted it so badly.
Then someone nudged my shoulder, and I looked up and saw Joe, offering me a purple Monster. I grinned halfheartedly, taking the can, and he clinked his own blue one against it, then we both took a swig.
"Thanks, Joe." I grinned, and he ruffled my hair.
"Kid, the guys at Decaydance brought up a good point the other night when we were talking about you." Pete began cautiously. That wasn't good.
"Yeah?" I asked, feigning disinterest.
"We know you're a minor, but they're letting that slide." Pete sighed. "But they do have to make sure you get a formal education. What grade did you leave off at?"
I stared at Pete for a second, my mouth slightly open, then started laughing.
"I think she's lost it." Andy observed, snickering at Pete's exasperated expression.
"No, trust me, I'm not quite crazy yet." I choked out, grinning. "I'm done with school, though."
"How are you done with school? You're 16!" Joe blurted, and shrank down when I glared at him.
"Good lord, are you really?" Pete asked, impressed.
"What?" Patrick blinked, and Andy just looked confused.
"Almost 17!" I protested. "And I'm done with school."
"Kid, please-" Pete began.
"I'm done! You can call the school and ask them." I rolled my eyes.
"Where'd you go?" Pete asked, obviously gearing up to do it. He'd pulled up his laptop, ready to Google and call the school.
"Barrington Academy." shrugged. "Nice name for a ghetto school, right?"
Pete raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously, then focused on his computer. "It's a real school." He admitted a moment later.
"Yeah, I'm calling to find out about one of your previous students, Cyn." Pete said, after holding for a good 10 minutes. "Can you like, summarize her history there for me?"
"He's trying to sound responsible." Joe giggled, and I tried to smile at him, but I was too anxious. I really didn't want Pete talking to my school.
Pete had been sitting in silence for a good minute, his eyebrows raising and looking more and more stunned, staring at me.
I shrank down on the couch between Joe and Patrick, wincing.
"Hang on a sec." Pete said, and held the phone away from his ear and putting it on speaker. "Could you repeat that from the beginning?"
The person on the other end of the line sighed. "Cyn transferred into Barrington Academy at the beginning of fifth grade." A woman's snotty voice said. "She was immediately placed into advanced classes and skipped grades 6 and 7, moving straight into eighth grade. She had consistent straight A's every year in advanced, honors, and AP courses, earning many academic awards and graduating last year as valedictorian, with recognition in the artistic field. We have no records of detentions, suspensions, or any sort of disciplinary measures needed for her, and her teachers praised her as a hard worker, dedicated, and an extremely bright student.” The nasal voice finally took a breath.
“Do ya miss me, Miss Jenks?” I grinned wickedly. I knew that voice.
“Very much, Cyn.” The nasal voice answered drily. “Barrington Academy is so much… quieter without you here.”
I snickered. “Thanks. Anyway, that’s it. Kbye.” I hit the ‘end call’ button on the phone, then rolled my eyes. “She freakin’ hated me.” Then I looked at the guys, who were all staring at me. “What?”
“Why aren’t you in college?” Joe asked testily.
“Homeless kids don’t get scholarships.” I reminded him. “Especially ones with no parents to sign the form to ship them off to school, anyway.” I shrugged. “’Sides, who needs college? It’s for losers who think a few more years of chemistry will get them somewhere.”
“But… you’re some kinda genius.” Patrick said slowly.
I blinked at him. “Well, duh. I had to be. It’s not easy, being on your own when you’re 10. I had to learn fast and have a lot of common sense.”
“You don’t have any sense.” Andy rolled his eyes.
“That’s actually helpful, too.” I nodded in agreement. “Run first, think later.”
“Just what have you been through, specifically?” Pete asked. I knew this question would come up, some way, some how, but I’d always wanted to avoid it.
I sighed. This wasn’t something to play games about.
“I’ve had heat stroke, hypothermia, tried suicide several times, I’ve been shot, I’ve been raped, I’ve been beaten and left for dead, I’ve had drug lords put a price on my head, and I’ve sold people out to the vice to keep Trey and Jamie safe.” I admitted, looking at the floor. “I’ve shot people so I wouldn’t get killed myself.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Jesus.” Patrick finally breathed.
“Yeah.” I agreed softly, nodding as I stared at the ground. “The streets were rough, but it was better than where I came from. I had a family, for a while.” I smiled crookedly, nostalgic. “I miss them, sometimes.”
“What about us? Aren’t we your family?” Joe asked, and I looked up at him in surprise.
“You guys’re awesome, but…” I sighed. “Trey and Jamie are the ones who always had my back.”
“You talk about them a lot.” Andy remarked, a question in his eyes.
“I was 10 when I got to New York. I knew not to trust anybody, but I couldn’t protect myself. Jamie found me, started looking out for me. He taught me how to take care of myself. I found Trey about a year after I wound up with Jamie, and the three of us stuck together, took turns bringing home food for the day. We watched out for each other, kept each other sane… mostly.” I grinned crookedly, shaking my head. “They can look out for themselves, but… I wonder how they’re doing, sometimes.” I frowned a little. “I’m a little worried about Trey; he never was the most careful about who he talked to or what he said, and Kyle said he disappeared.” I sighed. “I hope he’s ok.”
“Wanna go visit?” Pete offered.
♠ ♠ ♠
Guess I wanted more...<3 nobody