When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

Loud noises boom from the television. Gun shots, the disgusting squelch of hit zombie, random shouts from the game characters. Dalton and Calvin yelp enthusiastically from time to time, groan in frustration at other times. RJ bites his lip in concentration, eyes trained on the screen like a good zombie killer.

And I'm perched on the arm of the couch, watching.

I have no clue what's happening on the screen. I don't even know what the purpose of this game is. Run around and kill zombies seems to be the only semblance of a plot. There doesn't appear to be much thought necessary to play the game.

"Shit," Dalton hisses, jerking the controller in his hands as he does something with his character.

"Go around the other way," Calvin exclaims.

This is why I sit in my bunk most days. Ross must have amazing selective hearing if he can sit in the front and actually get work done. Riley's extremely tolerant, so she can deal with their unnecessary body jerks and yells. Elina normally is involved in the mess.

But she's not today. She's sitting on the couch next to RJ, arms crossed over her chest, vacantly staring at the opposing wall of the bus. I don't think anyone really knows what's wrong with her, and I don't think anyone is going to push her to tell.

She hasn't even told Dalton.

"No," Dalton yells, dramatic and loud enough for people outside the bus to hear.

"I told you to go the other way," Calvin snaps.

Why didn't I decide to sit in my bunk? Oh, right. After unloading mass amounts of laundry, I decided it would be best to wait in the front for sound check since there wasn't much time till we had to be at the stage.

I would have been better off in my bunk, but I'm always in there. This is my attempt at getting involved with my band members. I'm tired of being an outsider. I see the way Jack is with his band mates, and I want the same thing. I want them to be more than just the members of the band I'm in.

I want them to be my friends.

They probably already consider themselves my friends. But we don't act like it. I'm never around them, they don't talk much to me, I'm not the person they would go to for advice, I don't get involved in the things they do.

I'm just their guitarist.

I'm going to try to be more than that.

This want is probably Jack's fault. I was content with the way things were before he showed up. Then, he turned my life upside down, made me want things I had never cared about before.

I don't mind.

"Stop harping in my ear," Dalton snaps back.

"Well, learn to play better."

"You can't beat me at this game, so back off."

Pre-performance jitters. We haven’t even sound checked yet and they've already started.

Calvin opens his mouth to retort, but a loud knock on the bus door stops him. Though Ross and Riley are closer to the door, seeing as they are sitting in the dining booth, he gets up to answer it.

Ross is doing some work on the computer, likely making sure our schedule is right. He wouldn't get up to answer the door regardless. And Riley's eating some candy she picked up when we went to get our laundry done and texting John. Knowing her, she was going to get up but realized Calvin was going to get it instead.

Girl's a fucking saint.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Calvin tilts his head to the side, looking out the tinted window of the door. He presses the button on the bus' control panel, and the door slides open. I can see his lips moving but can't hear him over the game Dalton and RJ restarted.

Honestly, this is going to blow out my eardrums and the television speakers. I don't think they've ever had it turned up so high before.

Calvin tries to yell something over the noise, but no one can hear him. Without looking up from his computer, Ross grabs one of the two remotes sitting next to him on the table and lowers the volume on the television.

"Hey," Dalton whines.

"Calvin's trying to speak," Ross says.

His tone isn't hard, but gentle like it always is when he talks with Dalton. The loving undertone is there. Ross is unable to talk to Dalton any other way, I'm almost positive. After everything they've gone through together, I'm not all that surprised he talks to him that way.

"Thanks, Ross," Calvin says. He looks at me, "Holland, there is an extremely attractive blonde woman asking for you."

Extremely attractive blonde woman? I know one person who fits that description and would be outside the bus asking for me. But it can't be her.

Can it?

No, no. She didn't say she was coming to today's performance. She would have warned me well in advance.

I think.

I push myself from the couch arm and walk to the entrance of the bus. Sure enough, Italy is standing on the pavement in front of the stairs, smile stretched over her still thin face.

"Hey," I say, far warmer than I've ever greeted her face-to-face in my life, and hop down the steps.

"Hi," she says, just as warm as I did.

The moment I'm off the bottom step and on the pavement, we embrace. Her body is thin under my arms, though she has clearly gained some weight back. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, far stronger than I remember them being. I would say she gained some muscle there.

And she's warm. A comforting kind of warm. Similar to the warmth I get from Jack when I hug him, but not the same. It’s the comfort of a sibling. For once, I can feel that from Italy.

I never thought I'd see the day that would happen.

"We'll have to talk later," Italy mumbles in my ear.

"Later," I nod against her shoulder, "later."

"Alright, this is good," Calvin says from the top of the stairs. "Holland, go put on the fairy outfit you wore yesterday. We can get your friend in a pink version, take some pictures, maybe make a video, post it on the internet, and make some money."

Letting go of my sister, I roll my eyes and glance up at him. "Shut up, Calvin." I look back at my sister, smiling. "Come on, you have to meet everyone."

With that I grab her wrist and tug her up the steps of the bus. She chuckles but doesn't protest, allowing me to be excited about introducing her to my band mates. And I am excited about this. I really am. Our father hasn't even met the band.

Our mother has, but that's not the point.

Calvin moves out of the way as we walk up the steps. In the bus, everyone looks curiously in our direction. Even Elina has pulled her eyes away from the wall to look.

At least I know she's somewhat responsive.

"Alright," I start, "That's Calvin, Riley, Ross, Dalton, RJ, and Elina." I point to each member when I say their names, and they give some form of greeting, with the exception of Elina who stares absently at us. "Guys, this is my sister Italy."

Italy waves, perfect smile ingrained on her face. The bus goes quiet, aside from the light sounds of Dalton and RJ's characters dying. They look relatively shocked by the introduction.

"This is your sister?" Dalton asks, the first to break the silence.

"You have a sister?" RJ adds.

"Yes and yes," I answer.

"Step sister?" Dalton tries.

"No."

"Adopted sister?"

"No."

He looks Italy up and down, then does the same to me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dalton, she's my biological sister."

It can't be that astounding. I'm sure I've mentioned her at least once around them, so they should have some vague idea that I do, in fact, have a sister. And we have some similarities, like... Well, there's... I mean, we have...

I got nothing.

"You two don't look anything alike," Calvin states.

"They're both tall," Riley points out.

That is true. I think I'm the tallest girl in the band, and only Ross is taller than me. Calvin and I are about the same height, Dalton's about an inch and a half shorter than me. RJ is a little shorter than Dalton.

"Like giants," RJ mumbles, eyes wide.

He's so cute.

"And they're thin," Ross says.

"They could be models," Dalton squeals.

Uh, no thanks.

Italy laughs at Dalton's excitement and shakes her head. I don't think she wants to be a model either. After what she went through with her eating disorder, that's the last thing on her mind. The comment probably isn't all that helpful for her recovery either.

"So, Italy, how old are you?" Riley asks.

"Twenty-three," Italy answers.

She sounds strong, sure of herself. Its different hearing that tone over the phone compared to hearing it with her standing next to me. I like it.

I used to hate it.

"Do you play any instruments?" Calvin asks.

"No, that's Holland's terrain."

I can hear the respect and pride, and it makes my heart swell.

"How come we haven't seen you around?" Dalton asks.

"Holland and I are never in the same place at the same time. I'm always at school, and she's always working or practicing."

Short, sweet, to the point. There's no indication that there has been a strain in our relationship for most of our lives, no indication that we both have eating disorders that are extremely time consuming. It's good.

"Where do you go to school?" Riley asks.

"I'm in law school at Harvard."

Dalton whistles low, and Calvin mumbles a quick "damn." Admiration shines in RJ's eyes. Ross' eyebrows rise. Elina doesn't say anything.

"No wonder we've never met you, then," Riley nods.

It's not the real reason, but I prefer it. I'm sure her schooling contributed to her not meeting the band. We know the real reason is because we haven't been very civil to each other till recently. The band doesn't need to know.

"I hate to cut this short, but its time for sound check," Ross says.

"Do you want to watch us sound check?" I ask my sibling.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

We leave the bus and walk across the parking lot as a group, Ross managing to get to the front, my sister in the middle of my chatty band mates. And Elina brings up the rear, trailing a few feet behind our clump.

I wish she would talk to us.

I'm the first to sound check at the venue. Ross isn't punishing anyone today, thank goodness.

"I'll be right back," I say to Italy.

"She always sound checks first," Calvin explains.

Italy gives me a knowing look. She understands my need to go first, understands I can't help wanting to be first. I'm the second child, second best in mom's eyes, second best compared to my sister in pageants, the second child to go to school, the second to wear Italy's clothing at times. I'm always second.

This is where I can be first.

"Get up there," Italy says, pushing me towards the stage.

I think she's okay with me being first this time.

I walk onto the stage where RJ hands me my guitar. Slinging the strap over my shoulder, I dive into my usual sound check song. It's over almost as soon as it begins, and I'm handing my guitar back to RJ while I get off the stage. Jack scoops me into his arms before I can reach my band.

Where the hell did he come from? He wasn't here when I went up to sound check.

Oh, well. I'm not complaining.

"Holl, I missed you," Jack whines.

"Couldn't handle me leaving you to do laundry?" I ask.

"We could have done laundry together. It would have been fun."

"How would doing laundry together have been fun?"

"Well, first we would have to load the washer. Then, I’d sit you on top of the washer while it's shaking and you would be seeing stars in seconds. And we'd do it again with the dryer."

I laugh and peck his lips. "You're silly."

A sort of successful smile stretches across his face. He knows that's not happening anytime soon, but now that he's planted the idea in my head, he's sure he's going to get me to agree to it at some point.

Like he did with the fairy outfit.

I knew I shouldn't have put that thing on.

"So, who's the blonde?" he nods toward where You First is.

"My sister."

He looks down at me, eyebrows drawn together, "You're okay?"

"Yeah. We haven’t fought, the band likes her, everything's good."

"I'm glad."

I was nervous about Italy showing up at a performance. I didn't know if we would fight when in the same vicinity as each other. Our relationship could have been decent simply because it was over the phone, and meeting in person could have shot it to hell. I didn't want that to happen. So far, it hasn't.

Jack knows about all of that.

"You have to meet her."

"Okay."

I remove myself from his hold and grab his hand, lacing our fingers and leading him in the direction of the band. Italy is talking with Ross about something but turns her attention towards me when I get there.

"Italy, this is Jack, my boyfriend."

I like the sound of that.

"Nice to meet you," Italy nods.

"Likewise," Jack returns.

"So you really sang in pageants?" Ross asks pulling Italy back into the conversation.

Surprisingly, I'm not bothered by all attention on her. I'm almost jittery with excitement. The band is meeting my sister. My sister, the one who goes to Harvard, the one who succeeds in pageants, the one who graduated from an eating disorder program. For the first time, I can be proud of the family member they're meeting.

It feels good.

Jack wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his head on top of mine. We listen to Italy and Ross converse, occasionally adding in our own two-sense. Before I know it, we're backstage in the You First dressing room. Jack and I are snuggled together on one couch with Italy, who watches our band, amusement in her eyes. Dalton and Calvin are wrestling on the floor. Riley and RJ are on another couch, snacking on candy and making bets on who will win the wrestling fight taking place on the ground. Elina is sitting on one of the chairs against the wall, secluded.

While Elina has detached herself a great deal in the past day, Riley seems to have become a great deal happier. I don't know what caused the sudden lift in her mood. It could have been John finally asking her to be his girlfriend. But I don't think that's entirely it. She seems like she's a peace with something.

"Your band is insane," Italy remarks.

"You get used to it."

"You'll forget the lyrics to every song and look like an idiot on stage," Dalton says, straddling Calvin's back and locking his arms behind him.

"Oh, yeah?" Calvin grunts. He throws Dalton off of him and catches him in a headlock, "You won't have any hands to play with."

Dalton pushes Calvin, sending him sprawling to the floor, "The drummer of Def Leppard does just fine with one arm. I'm sure I could play with no hands." He jumps on Calvin, causing him to release a pained noise.

"Get used to it, huh?" Italy asks.

"Sometimes," I return.

She shakes her head, then looks at me. Her emerald green eyes pierce my sapphire blue ones. "You know what we need to talk about, right?"

"Yeah."

Of course, I know.

"Can we do it after your band performs?" she asks.

"I guess."

"The Maine's dressing room should be empty after You First performs. They perform last tonight. You can talk in there," Jack offers.

"Thanks, Jack," she smiles.

"No problem."

"Jack can be there with us, right?" I ask, playing with Jack's fingers.

"If that'll make you comfortable."

I nod. When it comes to talking about my bulimia, Jack's company is one of the few things that would make me comfortable.

The door to the dressing room opens, Ross standing in the opening. His presence draws everyone's attention to him. Dalton and Calvin even stop mid-fight and look up at him.

His presence tends to have that affect on people.

It's because he's so damn scary.

"Time to go on," he says.

We stand, Calvin and Dalton fixing their appearances, and file out of the room. RJ hands out instruments behind the curtains, doing a once over to make sure everything is in place. I slip my strap over my shoulder and face Italy and Jack.

"Good luck," Italy says, wrapping her arms around my shoulders for a quick hug, "I expect greatness."

"I'll deliver," I try to sound overly cocky about my playing ability.

I'm nervous with her watching.

Jack takes her place when she lets go, giving me a quick hug and a kiss. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. This is our good luck ritual.

"You two are obnoxiously adorable," Italy mumbles.

I smile. Jack and I are that couple, and I've come to accept it. We're almost always around each other, connected in some way. We make people want to vomit from cuteness overload.

I'm happy with that.

"Get out there," Ross yells to us.

As a band, we trail out from behind the curtains, a series of screams bombarding our ears. By now, our popularity is growing. Fans from past shows have talked about us on various social networking sites, our fellow bands have done the same.

We dive into our set. Calvin doesn't forget the lyrics to the songs. Dalton still has his hands. Elina seems a little off, but she's trying to pull it together for the performance. She's doesn't take part in any of the short band banters we have, doesn't really make indication that she realizes she's been introduced when Calvin does the introductions. Riley, on the other hand, has fun joining in on everything. She even takes over Calvin's introductions when he gets about halfway through.

I don't think I've ever laughed so much during a performance.

It's over before I want it to be. I could have stayed on stage all night with the kind of energy I felt in the air. But we have to finish at some point.

Maybe tomorrow's performance will be just as good.

Offstage, I hand RJ my guitar. Jack hugs me immediately, keeping me from walking off to the bathroom and mumbling his praise. He lets go of me and I look to my sister. The smile on her face is huge. Her cheeks look like they'll explode. Her eyes sparkle with the pride that I've grown accustomed to hearing.

"That was amazing," she says, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tightly.

"Thanks," I breathe.

She lets go of me, her face becoming serious. "Ready to go talk?"

"Sure."

Jack takes hold of my hand and leads us away from the stage into the hall of dressing rooms. At the dressing room with The Maine's name across the front, he opens the door and peaks inside. He pushes the door open fully, allows us to walk in, and closes the door behind us.

"So how many times have you done it today?" Italy asks, jumping right into her intended conversation.

"Once," I reply.

Jack knows about that. I told him right after I did it. He was a little upset that I didn't last all that long without it.

"And you did it once yesterday?"

I nod.

"That's not good, Holly."

"What are you talking about? That's great for me. I went from vomiting more than once a day to once. I'd say that's great progress."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all."

"I'm taking baby steps."

"Baby steps aren't going to help you get better. You need to stop doing it all together."

"Didn't you go through baby steps at the clinic to get better?"

"I went through baby steps to make my stomach capable of handling a normal amount of food," Italy retaliates, "They didn't let us starve every other day or skip meals because we felt like we needed to be anorexic that day. Allowing yourself to vomit once a day is going to spiral you back into your bad eating habits in no time."

"That's not all there is to getting better."

"No, its not, but it's a big part. You need to start seeing a psychologist who specializes in eating disorders and confront the reason you turned to this."

"You should listen to her, Holl," Jack says.

I know I should, which is why I'm not fighting as hard I could on the issue.

"It's hard to go a day without forcing myself to vomit," I say, "Neither of you get it. I've done this to myself for so long, I can't stop cold turkey. I don't know if I can stop at all. Forcing myself to vomit is my comfort blanket."

"You force yourself to vomit?" Riley's voice cuts through the conversation.

I snap my head to the door. Riley stands in the opening, shock clear on her face. My mind races, heart pounding in my chest.

Shit.

"Riley," I start.

Before I can get a lie out, she lets go of the door and runs down the hall. Her feet echo as they hit against the tile flooring at a rapid pace. I couldn't catch her if I tried. But I dash from the room after her anyway, a last effort to catch her before she can tell the band. My sister and Jack follow after me. Riley disappears in our dressing room down the hall. I rush into the room after her seconds later, Italy and Jack close behind.

"She-she-she," Riley stutters out.

"Riley, it wasn't what it sounded like," I blurt.

I need a plausible lie.

She turns to me, "Not what it sounded like? Are you serious? Holland, I heard you."

"Would someone care to explain what the hell is going on?" Calvin asks.

Riley opens her mouth.

"Riley, no," I yelp.

"Holland forces herself to vomit," she says, despite my protest.

"That's not true," I say, "Italy and I were rehearsing for a play mom wants to put on at the next family gathering." I look at Italy, "Right, Tally?"

That's even worse than the curry lie.

"Holly," Italy shakes her head, "I can't..."

I glance around the room of band members. Their expressions are mixed. Shock, confusion, fear for my behalf.

"Holli-bear, you—"

I turn and run from the room, not allowing Dalton to finish his statement.

"Holl," Jack yells.

I can hear his footsteps following me down the hall, as well as my sister's close behind him. I don't stop for them, don't slow down. I keep going, running until I get outside. The rapid thud of my heart forces me to stop and lean against the brick wall, allowing the cold air to nip at my skin. I grab my chest, breathes heaving.

I'm a bulimic with a weak heart. Running isn't advised.

Jack and Italy appear in my line of vision.

"Take me to your bus," I choke out.

"Holl, you need to go in there and talk to them."

"Take me to your bus," I repeat.

I can't face the band right now. Riley and Elina disappear to different buses all the time, why can't I do it?

Jack sighs, "Alright."

He lifts me bridle style, one hand under my knees, the other securely around my back, and walks to his bus. Italy walks with us, head hanging slightly. I think she feels bad for not helping me back there, but I couldn't expect her to lie. I wanted her to. I did. But she has a set of morals that have been instilled in her since her stay in the eating disorder facility. She can't lie about a patient in need of help. She would never do that.

She wants me to get better.

Hands full, Jack relays the security code to Italy, who punches it in. The door slides open, and Jack ascends the steps, making sure not to hit me against any hard area. Italy continues to follow us, watching Jack's actions closely. We cross the front of the bus and enter the bunk hallway. Jack's bunk is the first one on the right. He lays me in it gently and kisses my forehead.

"I have to go perform," he mumbles, "Are you going to be okay?"

I nod and curl in a ball. He kisses my forehead again, mumbles a "bye," straightens, and leaves. Sighing, Italy perches on the edge of the bunk. Silence wraps around us. I stay curled up on top of Jack's blanket, and she fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit of hers.

"I'm sorry," she says finally, "I should have helped you."

"No, you did what you felt was right. They would have found out anyway."

"I still I feel like I should have done something."

I nudge her with my foot. "I don't want you to feel bad. I want you to reassure me everything is going to be okay."

"It will be okay," she says, "I know it'll be okay."

"I hope so."

"It will."

"Okay. Yeah, it will. They won't hate me or something, right?"

"They're probably worried if anything."

"I don't want them to worry."

"They will anyway."

"Great," I take a breath, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal, my lungs no longer clenched. "I need to get out of these clothes."

"Do you want me to pick up something for you to wear from your bus?"

"No. I'll sleep in my underwear and wear some of Jack's clothes tomorrow."

Sitting up, I pull the tank top from my body and toss it to the floor next to Jack's bunk. I lie back down, kick off my shoes, and wiggle out of my skinny jeans. They create a pile with the tank top.

"You're okay with Jack seeing you in your underwear again?" she asks.

I shrug and slip under the blanket. "It doesn't matter much now that he's seen me like this once."

"You know, I'm happy you have him. You've changed so much."

"I'm glad I have him, too," I stifle a yawn.

"You should sleep."

"I wish I could."

"You'll sleep just fine when Jack gets back."

"I probably will."

She shakes her head, smiling. "I'm leaving you in good hands."

"You're leaving?"

I don't want her to.

"I have to go up to Harvard and get settled in my apartment again."

"Are you excited?"

"I'm nervous, but I think I can do this."

"I have faith in you."

"Thanks."

It's silent again. Italy doesn't fiddle with her fingers, but sits comfortably. She's okay, and I'll be okay.

After I face my band.

I'm scared.

The door slides open in the front of the bus, footsteps rushing to the bunk area. Jack appears again, sweat sticking his shirt to his body, hair at an awkward angle. He leans against the bunk frame and gulps air. I wouldn't put it past him to have run here after the performance.

"I should go," Italy says. She leans down, hugs me, and stands. "Everything's going to be okay, I promise. Call me if you need anything."

"Okay, thanks. I love you."

"I love you, too. See you guys later," she waves and walks away.

"Holy shit, it's hot," Jack says, pulling his shirt from his body and fanning himself. "You know, it kind of hurts to run in biting winds when you're sweaty."

"You shouldn't have run," I chide softly. "Get in bed. I want to sleep."

"I wouldn't have to run if I wasn’t worried about you," he says, slipping his phone from his pocket and tossing it on the bed.

I grab it and hook it on the charger next to me, which I assume is what he was going to do. When I look back at him, he only has boxers on. My faces heats instantly.

Wow.

He lifts the blanket to get under and stops, staring at my scantly clad body. Looking me in the eyes, he lowers the cover.

"I'm trying to be worried about you and you wear that to bed?"

"I could put clothes on."

"Too late," he says quickly, sliding underneath the blanket next to me.

I cuddle against him. His body is a little cold from running outside, but he'll warm up soon. His arms slide around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I can feel his breath against my hair. He rubs circles against my back. Being near him lulls me closer to sleep, but I fight it, wanting to be near him while awake for longer.

The ring of his phone jolts through the air. He leans over me, grabs the cell phone, and brings it to his ear.

"Hi." He pauses. "Yeah, she's fine." Pause again. "No, she's going to stay in my bus tonight." Pause and nod. "Yeah, yeah I'll tell her. Night, Dalton."

He hangs up and tosses the phone back to where it sat originally.

"What'd he want?" I slur through my exhausted state.

"He was checking to make sure you're okay. They're not mad, you know. They're worried and want you to talk to them."

I hum in response, exhaustion taking over. Realizing he's not going to get a better response from me, he presses his lips to my forehead.

"Night, Holl."