When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

Everything seemed to be going good at the moment as we all met with Italy, Holland's sister. We've never met her before, and I could understand why. Harvard was a tough school, or so I've heard. They really didn't look alike besides the thinness and being tall.

I was sort of jealous of tall girls. Standing a meager Five foot three, I was almost constantly over towered by people. I guess it's also one of those things you get used to.

Like overreacting gamers, insane band members, and having one arm when you're a drummer. I watched with an amused smile on my face with RJ sitting beside me as Calvin and Dalton goofed around.

“Calvin's totally got him, Ri.” RJ put in, handing me another Watermelon Jolly Rancher. They were my favorites, so I automatically got all of them. At least when it came to sharing them with RJ, he really didn't like them and he only made the deal if he got all the Blue Raspberries.

“Pshhhh.” I scoffed, unwrapping the candy, “Dalton's feisty, he'll end up like...killing Calvin if he's not careful.” Dalton shoved Calvin off, sending him to the floor. “See?”

The match goes on for a little longer, and finally, Ross comes in and cuts it short, so basically it's a tie. But, as we went out to the stage, I still argued with RJ for a little until I had to go on.

As we play our set, for me at least, this is one of the best we've ever played. The stage banter is almost as funny as what I've seen of All Time Low's, without all the dick jokes, and I even cut Calvin off in the middle of introductions a couple times.

My abs hurt so bad from laughing. And I hope tomorrow's performance is just as good. With a large smile on my face, I walk offstage and hand RJ my bass. John's there, ready for a hug from me.

“Great job, Riley.” He squeezes, kissing my cheek.

“Thanks, John O.” I say, “Good luck. I'll be watching.”

“Actually, before I go on, I left my shirt in the dressing room, can you go get it for me, please?”

“How do you forget to put on your shirt?” I asked.

“I'm John O, I can do anything.”

“Including be a total knucklehead.” I teased, knocking on his head with my knuckles softly. He just gave me his infamous crooked smile as I started to walk to the dressing room.

It hadn't even been five minutes since we got offstage, and already Holland, Jack, and Italy were occupying the Maine's dressing room, I saw them head in there almost immediately. I raised my hand to knock when I heard something.

“That's not all there is to getting better.” Holland mumbled, I know I should make me presence known so that, if they don't want me to hear, they could stop talking, but I don't. For some reason, I don't.

"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." Eating disorders?

Who has an eating disorder? My mind is filling with confusion rapidly.

"You should listen to her, Holl," Jack says. Jack knows about this? And we didn't even? She didn't tell her band?

I guess, I shouldn't be the judge of that. I haven't even told them I have cancer when I told John...

"It's hard to go a day without forcing myself to vomit. 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."

I finally push open the door, my heart pounding painfully, my eyes finding Holland before speaking, “You force yourself to vomit?” Their heads all turn quickly to look at me, all shocked.

She says my name, but I'm already running to the dressing room where our band is. I don't have time to think about whether or not it's right that I'm tell someone else's secret, but we could help her. We could help Holland if we all know.

You can't help someone if they never say anything.

Despite her protest, I blurt it out, I feel bad for a second. That is, until she tries to come up with a lie. A very bad one at that. We all know she doesn't really like her mother. When her sister doesn't back up her lie, she runs from the room.

Holland is bulimic. That's all I was thinking as I sat on the bus, going straight there after Holland left. I couldn't watch The Maine's set. I don't think I could while I was so worried about Holland.

I think John would understand...but it didn't feel right to tell him about her disorder.

It wasn't my place to say. It wasn't even my place to tell the band, and believe me, I regret doing it. I shouldn't have. I know how hard it is to get up the courage to tell someone, your best friends, your trails. But...

She had a choice to stay healthy and live a full life, and she's choosing to wreck it all...how am I supposed to sit around with that knowledge and not try to help her?

Since I told John the security code to the bus, he came on right away and found me in the back, with the other members of the band besides, of course, Holland. We were all silent, no video games, no usual banter or chatter.

He stopped, looking around at everyone, his eyes found mine, silently asking me a question. I shook my head, standing up and making my way over to him. I pushed him away from the door and he followed me out of the bus.

I needed some air.

I noticed his hair was still slightly wet from his shower as I looked up at him, tears filling my eyes and I breathed in deeply. “Hey,” John started, grabbing hold of my thin shoulders, “Babe, what's wrong?” He leaned down so his face was level with mine.

“H-Holl...” I stuttered, something I do sometimes when I'm upset like that. “Sh-she,” I gave up trying to speak, and wrapped my arms tight around John, burying my face in his chest. He rubbed my back, a comforting gesture, and kissed the top of my head.

“What's wrong with Holland, Riley?” He asked softly, and I couldn't hold it back any longer, I had to tell him. And I shouldn't. But, I just needed to talk about it, and everyone else who knew was too shocked to say anything. It was like we were all lost inside our own thoughts.

“I worried and worried, but I never confronted her about it, and I should have because she's...” I couldn't say it out loud, just like for the first few months after I found out, I couldn't say the word 'cancer'. And now I couldn't say bulimic.

“Shhh...” John whispered as my sobs escalated in loudness. “It'll be okay...”

“No, it won't John!” I protested, “She's making herself throw up, and she's not healthy, and-an-and.” I took another deep breath. “I guess I'm just taking it personally.”

“How?” He wondered, “It was her choice to start, and you had nothing to do with the decision.”

“She can decide whether she's healthy...she could die from this. And she chose it all her own. I don't get to chose whether or not I die from my own condition. I don't understand, I want to talk to her, but I know that she doesn't want to. And now she probably hates me for blurting it out to the band, and I don't think I'd even blame her at this point.”

“I'm sorry, Riley.” He kissed the top of my head again. “People do things we don't understand all the time...she'll talk to you when she's ready. And, Riley?”

“Yeah?” I mumbled, feeling pathetic once again.

“You had a choice too, to defeat it, and you made the decision to fight. Maybe Holland will, too. Don't you think that's why she's been...”

“Been what?” I asked.

“She's been more open towards you guys. And that costume that she wore, all for Jack, don't you think that's something? I mean, if she thinks she looks that bad, then don't you think she would have wore something different. She's getting better. Slowly but surely.”

Yeah, I had noticed that lately all of us are getting closer, not just Holland. Elina, though, she just seemed to get further from our reach. But, Holland, I noticed, was making extra efforts to stay closer to us, instead of in her bunk and by herself.

It was something.

“Yeah.” I sniffled, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my hoodie. When I looked up at John again, he wiped away stray tears with his thumb. It was in the little things that he did...

“I know what will make you feel better again.” He smiled, rubbing up and down on my arms. I pulled my eyebrows together, I don't think anything could make me feel better. “We could go on my bus and pick on Garret. Or I could let you kill zombies with him all night if you want...”

He looked so expectant, I hated to let him down. I shook my head slowly, “I really just want to stay with my band for the night, John...I'm sorry.” I felt guilty for even taking this time to talk to John, instead of the band, while we were all trying to figure out what was going on.

And, the fact that I still haven't told them about the cancer.

“Hey, don't be.” He gave me a crooked smile to let me know he wasn't upset, “I understand.” He kissed my forehead, pulling me into another hug. The front of his shirt was still wet from all the tears I drained onto it.

“I figured you would.” I thought to myself, unable to speak around the giant lump that was yet again forming in my throat.

I squeezed John once more before going back on the silent bus. I sat back down in between Elina and Calvin, pulling my knees up to my chin.

It didn't make sense.

Nothing in this world made sense anymore. It was all too tragic, too complex. How could Holland have such a distorted image of herself to force herself to vomit to lose weight, how could Calvin and RJ's mom neglect and abuse them, have her boyfriends abuse them even, how could Dalton be tormented by his own family just because of his sexuality, how could whatever happened to Elina have happened to her, how could I have gotten cancer?

How could there be kids starving all over the world, how could people get so fed up and lost in their lives that they commit suicide? Why was the world such a screwed up place?

Did God not care? He must not, otherwise we wouldn't be going through all of this, right? Why? Why? Why? Sometimes, I just wanted to shout the question from the highest building I could find, curse at the sky and have my laments carried through the air and away from me.

I didn't want to question my faith, or my hope, but honestly, I didn't have much of either left.

It didn't even seem like we had much of a band anymore. I didn't want this tour to end just because I was afraid of the outcome. What would happen to You First? It's my support system, basically the only thing that's kept me going this far. If I lose it, if we all lose it, what would happen?

I didn't want to think about that right now. Or ever, really.

As we drove down the interstate to our next destination, everyone eventually left the back lounge and into bed. I picked up Cornelius from the floor beside the couch and cuddled into him, suddenly regretting my decision to stay on the bus tonight. I felt I needed John's comforting arms now more than ever. This somber atmosphere was suffocating.

I pulled out my phone, debating on whether or not to call or text him or something. It was getting to be around two o'clock in the morning. “John?” I said when he gave a groggy greeting.

“Riley.” He said tenderly through his sleep thick voice. “What's up?” I liked how he sounded when talking to me.

“I—I just...wanted to t-talk to yo-you.” I got out. I really hate when I stutter.

“Alright, about what?” He seemed to be awake more and I could hear fabric rustle on the other end. He was probably getting out of his bunk as to not disturb his band mates. I pressed my face into Cornelius's soft fur.

“I'm afraid of what's going to happen after this tour is over.” I admitted, hearing it out loud made it much more real. More of a possibility that we were going to end up splitting.

“With what?”

“Holland. Myself. The band.” I listed. “I have to get chemo, Holland needs to go to some sort of clinic. It's like our band is unraveling and it's the only thing thus far that's kept me...you know...alive.”

“Riley,” He started, he sounded a little sad, “Everything will be all right in the end, okay? You'll get better, Holland will too, and...” He sighed and I pictured him running his fingers through his hair. Something I wish I could do right then. “And you'll still make music. You'll still be friends. Like I said before, you guys are like a family.”

“But I'm still afraid.” I whimpered, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. “It's been dead silent since we entered the bus, and...I don't like it. Dalton's supposed to be harassing either the video game characters or Calvin, Elina is supposed to be joining in, I'm supposed to be laughing at how stupid they are, Ross is supposed to be planning out our lives with extra care, RJ is supposed to be sitting next to me at a safe distance so he doesn't get hit with flying objects, and Holland is supposed to be in her bunk sleeping.” I ranted. “It's not supposed to be so...dead.”

“Shhhh, calm down, Riley, you're going to have a panic attack.” John tried to get me to even my breathing. I couldn't, and I knew it was already too late.

I curled into into the tightest ball I could, hiding my face from the light and wrapping an arm around my stomach as waves of terror and dread washed over me. I couldn't get enough oxygen into my lungs and tears rolled down my cheeks in torrents.

I'm sure if my eyes weren't shut as tight as they were, I would have been seeing black spots dance in my vision. My heartbeat raced worse than when I ran that marathon last year, my chest felt like it was being stabbed. I was losing control, and quickly.

I didn't realize I had disconnected with John until my phone was ringing on the floor, but I could barely hear it. My whole body was shaking and I started to get nauseous.

Sometimes, I feel that panic attacks are the worst thing to ever happen to someone.

“Riley?” Someone was calling my name, I think it was Ross. The numbness started in the tips of my fingers, slowly engulfing my whole hand. From faraway, I could hear Ross speaking, either on the phone or to the rest of the band, I have no idea.

“Ri...” I heard Calvin's voice, and he was brushing my hair away from my face. “Riley, calm down, please.” He spoke softly, coaxing. “It'll be alright.”

I wanted to add my objection to his statement, but I was too petrified to even move my mouth.

It seemed like a lifetime before I got my breathing back to normal, but the pain and numbness was still there. “Are you alright?” Calvin asked as my eyes focused on him.

I shook my head, reaching out for him and he accepted me into his arms. “I don't want tour to end.” I whimpered, “Because, maybe, this band will too.”

“Riley, that's not going to happen. We're a family.” He comforted.

“That's what John told me.” I buried my face in his chest, starting to cry. “But it's hard to believe in that. Because sometimes families are only together because they have to keep up a facade. What if we turn into that?” Even slower than my breathing returning to normal, everything else went away, too, and I was exhausted. Calvin just pushed my further into his chest and started rocking back and forth, lulling me to sleep.

“What time is it?” I asked, voice soft and quiet.

“About five.” Calvin answered, matching my tone.

Three hours. That was probably the longest attack I've ever suffered. I had time to mumble a thanks before I was asleep. I hated the aftereffects.

….

“Riley?” I heard another voice asked later as I was starting to wake up. It took me a moment to assess the hand in my hair, the blanket over me and John's face in front of mine. He smiled and pressed his lips to mine when I opened my eyes.

I always felt so small after a terror attack, and I felt it now more than ever when he dragged me off the couch and into his arms. “God, you scared the living crap out of me, sunshine.” He said urgently into my hair.

“I'm sorry.” I mumbled, winding my arms around his thin waist, face in his neck.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I will be...eventually.” I told him. “Have you seen Holland at all?”

I felt him shake his head, “She's probably still with Jack.” He stated. “I haven't seen her.”

“I feel bad for telling everyone like I did...”

“They needed to know, just like they need to know about you...”

“I know...” I sighed, playing with the ends of his hair with my fingers. “I know that, John, but I shouldn't have just blurted it out like I did.” I reached for my phone still abandoned on the floor and, apart from the two missed calls, I had no new messages. The time read 11:56 a.m.

I went to go get changed for the day and looked at myself in the mirror. There were dark circles of exhaustion under my eyes, my hair was a mess and my eyes red. In all, I looked like a crack whore. Not a very becoming look. I tried to cover it up the best I could with my makeup, and it worked for the most part besides the red eyes. I couldn't do anything about those.

I got dressed in a light pink hoodie and ripped flare jeans and went back out to the kitchen area where John was grabbing me a water. From what I could see, no one else was on the bus. I slipped on my white socks and black beat up converse and we walked towards the venue hand in hand.

“Hey, Ri-bear.” Garret smiled, waving.

“Hey, Gary.” My smile wasn't as big as they usually were, and Garret noticed.

“You okay, Riley?” He asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we continued walked.

“Yeah, for the most part.”

“What did John do?” He asked, voice stern and glaring over at John. My smile grew, and I let out a laugh.

“Relax, Gar. John didn't do anything.”

“I've been an angel.” John put in, causing me to laugh some more.

“Good thing, too, we would have to look for a new lead singer.” Garret confirmed.

“Awww, you'd kick John out of your band for me?” I batted my eyelashes.

“I didn't say anything about kicking him out. I'd go all zombie slayer four on him.” Garret joked, forcing me into his side with the arm still draped around my neck.

“Hear that, John?” Kennedy came out from nowhere, “Hurt her, and we'll blow your head off with a shotgun.”

He must have taken me back to their dressing room, but I was fine with that. I didn't need to be around the somber quietness surrounding my own band. “Aw, you guys are great.” I laughed, hugging John. “But, I'm pretty sure I can take care of him myself if that happens.”

“Well, I feel loved.” John scoffed.

“You know we love you, John.” Jared punched his shoulder lightly. It was nice to laugh for the first time. Especially since I felt, and looked like crap. My eyes still stung, and I've no doubt they were still red.

There was a soft knock at the door, my laughter stopped, my smile dropped, once Holland's face poked into the room, “Hey, Riley...we need to talk...” She said softly, looking at me intently, almost apologetically.

I nodded, and stood up, letting go of John's hand and followed her out of the room.