When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

As I ran, I felt my muscles start to ache and pushed myself a little harder. Once it became almost unbearable, I slowed down a little. I never pulled my hair up when I ran, even though it kept you from getting overheated, because I didn't want anyone to glance and see the ugly pink scar, the constant reminder.

I had one on the left side of my chest, but no one would ever see that one. And it's why I hate tank tops. Mostly, I got them so that they covered it, but there was a chance it could slip down, just an inch was enough to see.

I shook the thoughts from my head and I knew I should head back to the venue. I circle back, knowing I was going the right way. I have an impeccable sense of direction.

“Hey!” I heard someone yell, I turned to Pat Kirch.

“Yeah?” I cocked an eyebrow, walking now.

“John was looking for you, are you aware you missed sound check?” He asked, getting out his phone.

“Oh.” Was all I said and I waited while he called John.

With the sleeve of my black hoodie, I wiped the back of my neck free of sweat, moving on to my forehead. I hardly wore anything but hoodies nowadays, even in the heat of Arizona. Well, we weren't in Arizona anymore, I think we were in Virginia, and it was a little chilly. So at least now I had an excuse and no one would ask why anymore.

“Hey, Ri.” John appeared in front of me while I was lost in thought. I jumped a little and smiled at him.

“Hey...John?” I ended with my eyebrows pulled together. I didn't have a nickname for him. “I don't know a good nickname for you...”

“Mr. Ohh would be fine.” He joked, his smirk appearing on his face. Something fluttered in my chest.

“Are you serious right now?” I laughed at him, “Mr. Ohh?”

“No, you have to say it like 'Ohh'.” He said, his voice dropping and sounding breathless.

“It sounds like you just--” I stopped myself from saying what was going through my mind.

“Exactly.” His eyebrows wiggled, “Try it.”

“Mr. Ohh.” I tried, imitating what he had done.

“Now, that's some sexy stuff right there.” He nodded, “I wouldn't mind you calling me that from now on.”

“I think I'll stick with John.” I formed his name with my lips, and I liked it. I had said it plenty of times now, and this time I found out...I liked saying his name.

“At least say it in the same sexy voice?” He asked, puppy dog eyes looking at me. I almost gave in.

“I'll pass.” I nodded, “Is there anything in particular you wanted with me, or did you just want to make me say your name?”

“I'm conceited enough to want to hear me name a lot, but there was actually something I needed from you.”

I cracked a smile at his comment, “And what was that, Mr. Ohh?” I said his so called 'nickname' by accident and blushed a little.

John smirked again, “I wanted to see if you wanted to go to Guitar Center with me right quick.”

“Why me?” I asked, my heart rate still too quick and I couldn't help but think that it was a little bit because of John. I wiped more sweat from my forehead.

“What were you doing?” He asked, as if finally noticing how worn out I was.

“I run. I'm kind of an exercise freak, as Elina would say.” I explained, “You didn't answer me.”

“Oh, yeah! Well, everyone else is busy for the rest of the day, but I didn't get to ask you, but if you want to work out some more...”

“Naw, it's fine. I can go with you...let me change first.” I scurried off to the bus. I wanted to look at more basses anyway, maybe another guitar. When I came out, I remembered that Elina's guitar was in need of fixing.

I took the keys I had from my belt loop and unlocked our trailer, digging in to find Elina's guitar. She didn't need to know that I had done it, but I was going to fix her guitar for her. Why did I need to spend all of my prize money when I don't think I'll be around very long to enjoy what I spent it on?

The thought seemed to sink deeper into my mind that I had thought it would and I hurried out of the trailer with Elina's guitar in tow. “Isn't that Elina's?” John pointed.

“What made you guess?” I looked at the case, blue duck tape ran across the front with her name scrawled messily over it. “Yeah, it is. She needs it fixed and since we're going anyway...” I shrugged, letting him fill in the rest.

“That's nice of you.” He put in, giving me a kind smile, softer and more intoxicating than his usual smirk.

I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts from my mind before I spoke again, “Yeah, that's just me.” I smiled ruefully, if he knew why I was really doing it, he'd probably consider it selfish. I want to be remembered in the little things they cherished most.

…

Once John had some new guitar strings and a couple straps that he had to pick up for Kennedy and Jared, we still had a couple hours to wait for Elina's guitar to be fixed. We wouldn't get it in time to leave for the show. I suddenly grew very worried. “What if we don't get here before it closes, John?” I turned to him, a little worried to be honest.

“Relax, Riles, I'll have Aaron pick it up later, okay?” John suggested. Aaron, their guitar tech. I sighed, feeling a little bit more relaxed.

And that when I saw it, the most beautiful bass I had ever seen before. My heart squeezed tight as I headed towards it. “Riley?” John questioned, wondering why I was acting so weird.

I stared up at it. My eyes trailed down the dark metal tuning knobs, down the rosewood fretboard and maple neck, to the body. The beautiful silver color reflected a little bit of light that shone in through the window, flashing in my eye. The Schecter logo looking back at me. Holland and I were kind of obsessed with this brand.

I had never wanted a material object so much before in my life.

And that's when I looked at the price. Three hundred dollars. That was all I had left from the prize money, after fixing Lina's guitar up. I hadn't gone hog wild like Elina and Holland when we went shopping at the mall, except maybe with buying all those pizzas, because I didn't like spending money on things I'll have to leave behind.

I would have to leave behind the bass, and the reality of my condition hit me yet again. I blinked back the tears in my eyes and turned away.

“Do you like that?” John asked, pointing to it.

“Yeah...but I can't buy it.” I whispered.

“You can at least play it, give it a go, yeah?” He the called a store attendant over without an answer from me.

“No, John, I really--”

“Can I help you, sir?”

“The little lass would like to play that for a little while, can you take it down for her please?” He said formally.

“John, I really don't--” I started to protest, but by that time, the bass was being placed in my hands. I hadn't even realized I was reaching out for it.

My heart thudded. I already loved it. The attendant brought a chair over since the bass didn't have a strap yet and I sat down with the beloved object. Immediately, I started playing. The notes transposed from my brain to my fingers. There was no filter, and no need to hold back.

It wasn't something I had ever played before, but to me at least, it sounded great. I stopped after a few minutes, realizing I was getting carried away. I looked up at the two gentleman standing in front of me, mouths opened.

“If you don't get that bass, I will be very disappointed. I've never seen anybody play like that.” The attendant said.

“I really don't have the mon--”

“I'll buy it.” John interrupted. Anger flared in me.

“Forget it, I'll buy it.” I said, handing the bass over to the attendant. “Ring it up, please.” I told him. I didn't need him buying anything for me, I could do it myself. I followed him to the register, handing him the debit card I had the money on.

I glared at John, jaw set tight.

He looked happy until he saw me glaring at him. “What?”

I waited until I had the bass, with its cloth case, to be put in my hands and thanked the attendant. I stormed out of the doors, John following me. “What?” He said again, clueless.

“I don't need you buying anything for me, okay?” I growled, “I can do things myself. I'm fine.”

“Sorry!” John exclaimed, “It's just that...when you play...you just look so...free.”

He caught on?

It didn't make me feel any better about it. “Whatever.” I scoffed, “Now I have no money left, thanks.” My voice dripped with sarcasm as I got back into the van, bass in between my legs. John's door slammed a little too harshly as he got in and started the van.

I didn't care. I crossed my arms over my chest, staring out the front windshield while we went back to the venue. I didn't like having things around to clutter up my space, having to be left behind, no matter how much I had fallen in love with it at first sight.

I guess that's why I've never had a boyfriend.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I was determined not to let them appear. I couldn't.

I was angry at myself for reacting that way about a bass, tipping John off to what I wanted. No one ever really cared what I wanted. They only treated me how they thought I should be. My parents were the perfect example.

Don't get me wrong, I love them with all my heart, but they always treated me like a fragile porcelain doll. I may not be the strongest person on the face of the earth emotionally, but I like to believe I can handle being dropped a couple times.

I had to stop my train of thought or else I would cry. Instead, I focused again on the anger at myself. I acted like a child just then, refusing to let someone help me. I did have the money, and to prove that I did to John, I had to buy the stinking bass.

I almost hated it now. But I knew, tomorrow when I played it, I wouldn't. I couldn't play it tonight because it hadn't been checked. I was almost disappointed.

“Don't worry about getting Aaron to pick up Lina's guitar, I'll have Ross go get it.” I told John monotonously, getting out of the van as fast as possible when we reached the venue. I was just in time for our set, it started in about twenty minutes.

Not only had he made me act like a child, he was going to get me in trouble with Ross.

“Where were you?” Ross tapped his toe frantically, giving me a stern look.

“I went to Guitar Center with John.” I told him shortly, walking past him. I wasn't in the mood anymore.

“Aw, man, why didn't you tell me? I need to get my guitar fixed.” Elina whined from the back.

“I got it taken care of. Which, Ross, could you pick it up in like, an hour. It should be done by then.” I asked him. He nodded, sensing I didn't want to get yelled at for being late and skipping sound check. He was good in picking up things like that. It's one of the things I liked about him.

Elina jumped up and wrapped her arms around me, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She rushed, forgetting how I didn't like to be touched. I froze, praying she'd let go of me. “Oh, right. Sorry.” She mumbled when she caught on to my reluctance. “That was really nice of you, Riles. You're now my favorite person.”

“Hey!” Dalton shouted from across the room, “What about me, you butt monkey!”

“It's Catwoman, Dalton, get it right.” Calvin snapped.

“What's that?” Holland finally noticed the case on my back. I almost forgot about it.

“I bought a new bass.”

“Finally!” RJ exclaimed, rushing over with the rest of them, “Lemme see! Lemme see!” He chanted. I pulled it from my back and unzipped the case.

A collective sharp intake of breath sounded when I pulled it out. “It's so pretty.” Elina touched it, stroking the silver body.

“I'm officially jealous.” Holland sighed, “Why didn't I save my money for a new guitar?”

“I'm just surprised, Riles. You never buy anything for yourself...” Calvin pointed out. “Why'd you get it?”

I debated on whether or not to lie. But, I was doing too much of that to them, “So John wouldn't get it for me.” I admitted.

“Of course, Riles.” Ross said, not mean or degrading in any way. I had a hard time trying to understand what he meant with that tone. It was soft, and almost sympathetic. I brushed it off.

“Is it time to go onstage yet?” Dalton said impatiently.

“You've got five minutes.” Ross looked at his watch. I actually envied Dalton sometimes when Ross looked at him. They loved each other so much.

“Do you want me to check and hook that up for you, Ri-Ri?” RJ asked, pointing to my bass. No. I wouldn't give John the satisfaction.

“No, RJ. It's fine.” I shook my head.

After our set, I go back into the dressing room. I didn't want to go back to the bus and be completely anti-social, but I didn't want to talk to anyone either. I heaved a sigh and turned my iPod up loud. Jack's Mannequin started playing once I scrolled down and selected it.

“Katie, you're a brave girl—“

I listened to the song, knowing it was about Andrew McMahon's Leukemia. He was kind of my role model, he had battled cancer, too, and he was still doing what he loved. I didn't know if he was scared like I was, but I like to think that he wasn't, that he was strong, because then it gave me courage...and I needed it right now.

Courage is something I'll need now.

This song was getting me all emotional. My mind flashed back to my own treatments, my mom clutching my hand waiting for the doctor to come in, my dad pacing the floor. I don't want to go through that again. I was losing strength, and I knew that.

As I zoned out, Jack's Mannequin kept on playing, going through all of the songs until it stopped. I didn't even realize it had.

“Riley.” John's voice cut through my consciousness, and I jumped, looking towards him. I didn't even hear him come in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you just scared me.” I said, my heart trying to explode from my chest, I put my hand over it.

“I just wanted to say I was sorry.” He started, “I mean, not that I even know exactly what I did wrong, but I know I offended you when I offered to buy you the bass, so I'm sorry.”

I didn't say anything, my heart was lodged in my throat. John just rambled on, “I didn't know that I would offend you...I mean, it was only to buy a bass...”

Finally, I found my voice, “It's not that, John...I just...I don't like people doing things for me.”

“And you don't like people touching you, either?” He asked, something flashing behind his eyes. Confusion, maybe?

“No...” I answered.

“Why?” He asked my most dreaded question. Nobody bothered to ask it anymore really, because I hardly ever answered it. But, with John, I wanted to tell him. There was just...something about him. And it scared me.

I clamped my mouth shut, and he repeated, “Why don't you let people take care of you? You don't have to be independent all the time, you know?”

“I...” My throat made a choking sound, “I barely know you, John.” I whispered instead. “I don't have to tell you anything.”

He groaned in frustration, “Fine, do you want to get to know me better?” I just shrugged. “I get drunk, I smoke occasionally, I live in Phoenix, Arizona, I say stuff that I don't mean, I sometimes don't make sense, I don't like Mickey Mouse, I don't really watch T.V or movies, I would most want to be a giraffe if I was any kind of animal, my full name is John Cornelius O'Callaghan the fifth, and--”

But, his rambling was cut short by my laughter. “Cornelius?” I asked, trying not to laugh, but it just didn't fit.

“Yeah, what of it?” He became defensive that I was laughing at his name.

“I'm so sorry, I don't mean to...mean to laugh.” But I couldn't stop. “It just doesn't fit. Cornelius?”

“I think it's darn sexy.” He said confidently, though trying to hide a smile himself.

“If it helps, my middle name is Bertha.” I shrugged. John made a noise, holding back his laughter.

“I'm sorry.” He laughed, holding his hand up. “That is kind of ridiculous.”

“Yeah, so we have stupid middle names, what are we supposed to do but laugh?” I chuckled some more.

“So, do you forgive me?” John raised an eyebrow.

“I don't think I was ever mad at you, John.” I admitted, smiling.

“So...tomorrow's a day off.”

“Already?” I asked, “But tour's just started,”

“ATL are lazy bums, you can't expect to go too long without a break.” John joked, or at least...maybe? “Anyway, so do you want to...do something with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, “I think I'd like that.”

“You think?” John asked, catching on.

“Along with being moody, I'm also indecisive.” I pointed out. I looked at my watch, and my eyes bugged. “We're going to be late for bus call!” I exclaimed, running out the door.

….

When I plopped down on the little cot thing that the hotel had for the fifth person, I realized just how tired I was.

I felt a little bad for Elina, she would have to deal with the boys of All Time Low. I hadn't really talked to them, but I've overheard some of their conversations...they were perverts.

Before drifting off to sleep, I thought about John.

I held the bass in my hands, plucking away. I was on a stage, brightly lit, and hot. I felt the sweat start at the back of my neck. Elina's piano played soft notes, contrasting to the bass. Somehow, the music coming from the band was exactly what I was feeling.

The guitar was hectic, the drums random and unnervingly loud, there were no lyrics being spilled from Calvin's mouth. But the bass line repeated the same string of notes.

I was stuck on repeat. I couldn't move from my spot onstage, and I couldn't play a different note progression. What was wrong with me?

I looked over the crowd, and John was standing front and center, smiling at me. He pointed to the ceiling and I looked up. But there wasn't a ceiling.

All I saw were stars. A feeling burst inside of me. A feeling I hadn't had since I was about twelve. As I looked up at the stars, I broke from my rut and I moved.

And that only happened when I played bass, being melted under stage lights that would sometimes resemble stars. When I played, I was free

I woke up in a cold sweat from my seemingly prophetic dream. I shook the thoughts from my mind, looking at the clock.

It was five in the morning. I guess this meant I could go on an early morning run. It had been so long since I had gotten one of those. And they always relaxed me more than running at any other time. Plus, I just needed to clear my head.

Lacing up my shoes, I was off.