Tangled up in You

Band practice at six at my house. Be there or we’re kicking you out, slut. xoxo

I laughed quietly at the text from Jen that was on my phone, rolling my eyes. I slid my phone back into my backpack slyly, trying to keep my history teacher from seeing it. If I got my cell taken away one more time I was pretty sure there was no way of talking him into giving it back to me—the third time in three weeks. My grandma would literally kill me.

I tapped my pencil on my desk mindlessly staring at the blank paper in front of me. The lines literally looked as if they were glaring at me—mocking each word I had erased from the material. Write a famous quote from a hero of yours and explain why it means so much to you.

Honestly, I didn’t have any heroes. Heroes required looking up to someone and that was something I had always learned not to do. If you expected good from anyone you would always be let down—plain and simple. Hope was something I personally wasn’t acquainted with. I preferred to be surprised on the off chance someone actually did an action that was worthwhile.

My weariness amazes me; I'm branded on my feet. I have no one to meet and the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

I gazed at the words that my hand seemed to write on the paper before looking up at the clock. Had it really taken me more than thirty minutes to come up with some simple Bob Dylan lyrics? I had been singing the song all day long and yet I couldn’t find inspiration. This was exactly why school was such a waste of time. If you told me to do something I would never get it done—but if it was my choice to do it, then hell, give me five minutes.

I bit my lip before sighing and placing my head on my brown desk. Why the hell did meaningless Mr. Charleston deserve to know why I felt inspiration?—he didn’t. He didn’t need to know my life.

So, I didn’t tell him. I left the words on the paper with my slanted cursive font below it that read: Figure it out for yourself. That’s half of the battle.

I waited patiently for the bell to ring by placing my head on my desk and closing my eyes. I thought about some new melodies my fingers lived out on my keyboard and let them guide me to fall asleep for the remaining of the period. I walked out into the hallway and to my last period of the day as soon as the bell ran, making small talk and giving a few hugs in the hallway. Ever since Topless formed my friends and I had kind of made it big at school.

Making it big had its plusses, indefinitely—but it also had its negatives; one being that everyone had a reputation, whether it was true or not.

I walked into my History of Rock and Roll class and sighed, taking a seat at my desk. I noticed there was a girl sitting next to me. She must’ve been new because I had never seen her before. Her long brown hair was pulled into a side braid and she was wearing a blue long sleeve shirt with buttons on the front of it. She stared down at her desk nervously—she was obviously very shy.

I cleared my throat and the girl looked at me nervously, her blue eyes matching mine. I smiled softly, “Hey, are you new here?”

She nodded her head slowly, looking relieved that someone seemed to acknowledge her, “Yeah, I just moved here,” she responded meekly.

I chuckled, “I’m Fallon, Fallon Reed.”

“Ashton Mitchell,” she replied.

“Where’d you move from?” I asked curiously pulling my binder out of my back pack. This was honestly the only class I’d willingly do work for.

“Oregon,” Ashton replied simply.

“Wow, long way from home,” I reflected. “I feel you there.”

“Yeah? Where’d you move from?” She asked, interestedly.

“Which time?” I laughed rhetorically. I tucked a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. “I moved from Vegas to Arizona when I was…twelve, I think. And then I moved here when I was sixteen.”

“Military or something?” Ashton questioned.

I chuckled lifelessly, “Uh, not exactly…let’s just say I used to get into some trouble. Middle schools aren’t exactly very sheltered in Vegas and just—yeah. And then I got into some trouble and Arizona and so my mother and my aunt, who I lived with in Arizona, sent me to Baltimore to live with my insane grandmother. They think it’s like punishment or something. They don’t seem to understand that Grandma is basically deaf and can’t hear me sneak out. They didn’t really think it through.”

Ashton laughed softly, “God, I wish I ever got in trouble. My parents would kill me.”

“Strict?”

“Oh my God you have no idea. If I ever even thought about sneaking out my parents would know; I’d rather obey then get shipped to military school or something.”

I laughed, “That’s brutal! You should come out with us sometime.”

“Who’s us?” Ashton questioned.

I remembered that she was new suddenly, “Oh, right. Uhm, ‘us’ is my friends—and bandmates—Jeneva, Starla and Daiton. They’re awesome.”

“You’re in a band?” Ashton smiled.

I nodded, “Yeah, I play the piano.”

She tugged on the bottom of her shirt gently a small tint on her cheeks, “I’m a drummer.”

I laughed, “Ashton, I think you have just started a beautiful new friendship.”

*

“So, guess who is in the midst of writing a new record right now?”

I smirked even though he couldn’t see me. I used my shoulder to press the phone tighter against my ear, trying not to drop it as I applied my makeup to my eyes, “Hmm, Bad Religion?”

Eric Halvorsen laughed heartily through my receiver, “Jesus probably. Those bastards won’t ever die will they?”

“They’ll be on Warped Tour with catheters,” I giggled.

“Okay, first of all that’s disgusting. And second of all, did you completely forget that I was definitely insinuating that my wonderful band is in the midst of recording a new album right now?” Eric said seriously even though I knew he was smiling.

“I don’t think I bought the first one,” I retorted teasingly.

“Of course you did. You masturbate to it,” he replied simply.

“While I’m looking at pictures of your best friend, JohnO,” I laughed.

“Fallon, I hate you.”

“Mm, we both know that’s not true. If you hated me you wouldn’t keep in touch with me after all of these years,” I smiled. I applied some red lipstick to my thin lips puckering to my own reflection.

“And we both know that you masturbate to pictures of me, so it’s whatever,” Eric laughed.

“Oh Halvo, how I miss you so,” I grinned, lying back onto my bed.

I had met Eric Halvorsen and John O’Callaghan when I was twelve years old and my parents had shipped me to live with my Aunt and Uncle in Tempe, Arizona. The two boys had been in my class in seventh grade and they were instantly my friends when they discovered I knew more songs by Tom Petty than just ‘American Girl’. Even when I moved to Baltimore us three kept in touch.

“But seriously Eric, you titled your album ‘Greetings From…’. Greetings from where?!” I giggled. “It just makes me so angry. I have no idea where you are greeting me from.”

“I’m greeting you from your bedroom,” Halvo said seductively.

“And now you’re greeting me from your dreams.”

Eric laughed softly, “Are you ever going to come back to Arizona, darling?—because I’ve seen your new pictures on Facebook, Miss ‘My Boobs Finally Grew In’.”

“Do you look at me in any way besides a piece of meat, Halvorsen?” I sighed, trying to hold back my laughter.

“Oh you’re not my sex slave? Good to know.”

I started laughing harder now, feeling my jaw starting to hurt from the constant grin that had been on my lips for the past hour or so I had been talking to my best friend. Even though he was over two thousand miles away Eric had found a way to always be there for me. We Skyped weekly and we would even watch movies at the same time on the phone to make it seem like we were together; he was one of the only people I had ever trusted.

“I’m sure you have plenty of sex slaves back in Arizona, huh Mr. Rock Star?” I smiled.

“Mm well what can you do? It’s hard being this famous all the time. I’m practically getting raped everywhere I go these days. If I walked around naked I think it’d just be easier for all the girls here.”

I giggled, “Well how considerate of you.”

“I know, I know. I’m practically a Saint,” Eric laughed.

“And you may be going to Hell for saying that.”

Halvo sighed, “I’m already going to Hell for what your mom and I did last night. Go big or go home.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed.

“Fallon, you know you love it!”

I sighed, “What time is it there?”

“It is precisely eight thirty-two meaning it is eleven thirty-two in Baltimore,” he sighed. “You need to go?”

I bit down on my red painted lip softly, sitting up and pulling my heels onto my feet. I flattened out my silver skirt and pulled it up a tad to where my tank was fully tucked in. I sprayed some hairspray over my blonde curls once more before looking at my overall appearance; I was ready.

“Yeah, I was supposed to be there a half hour ago,” I sighed.

“Everyone is probably too drunk to notice if you’re there or not anyways,” Eric protested. I knew what he was doing—he didn’t want me partying. He never did.

“Are you kidding? A party doesn’t start until Fallon Reed walks in,” I chuckled softly. The worst part was that it was completely true.

Halvo sighed, “Please just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

I smiled at his caring words, “I get to see you tomorrow on tour, you know.”

“Yeah you do, you whore. I’m excited.”

I laughed, “I’ll see you then. Good night, Eric Halvorsen.”

“Good night, honey bunches,” he said, a smile in his voice.

I rolled my eyes at his flirty words. “Shut the hell up, good night.”

I hung up my phone and placed it in my clutch. I quietly snuck out of my window and to the car that was waiting outside. I looked into the window to find Daiton honking her horn impatiently. She smiled at me maliciously, “Ready to get wasted on our last night!?”

I scoffed with a knowing smile on my lips, “I was born ready.”