That Girl

I’d said it before and I’d say it again, “No, I don’t need to be shown around.”

Was this school absolutely filled with creeps? Alex had ditched me for some risqué looking girl, and I was alone. Lost.

And being stalked by some lacrosse player.

Despite the office attendant specifically telling me not to, I whipped out my phone and called the only band member whose number I had.

“Stella!” Jack’s voice exclaimed, probably not the slightest bit fazed by answering a phone call during lunch.

“Hey, Barakat.” I greeted, “Where the fuck is everyone?” I asked, trying to keep my tone sweet. Not really working.

“Well, Rian and Kara are probably off doing naughty things. Same with Gaskank and Lisa.” So that was her name? I liked Gaskarth’s new nickname. I’d have to keep it on hand.

“Disgusting.” I felt a shiver run through my spine at the thought, and then my mind flashed to Pete and Ashlee. I cringed, shivering again. “Fucking gross.”

“But you still have me!” Jack proclaimed like it was the best thing in the world. I felt compelled to laugh, but composed myself, using my hair as a shield to cover my phone while a grounds keeper passed me by.

“Yes, yes, Jack. Now where are you?” I murmured into the speaker so the staff member didn’t discover me.

“At the field.”

Of course. “Thanks, Jackary.” I said with a relieved sigh.

“Hey! I got a nickname!” He yelled, to which I laughed, and started walking towards the field.

*.*.*

After that, I pretty much just tagged along with him and his classes for the rest of the day. I was pretty pissed at Alex when the guys and I met up with him after school:

“What the fuck, Gaskank?!” I bellowed, capturing quite a bit of the student body’s attention. Running towards him, I lifted my hand up to smack him upside the head, “You can’t just ditch me!”

“Says who?” He was equally pissed off. And for what reason? The world may never know what’s revolving in that prick’s head.

“Says me.” I reply, glaring at him and his girlfriend or whatever she was. “I was supposed to-.”

“Observe all of us, not just me. That's your job.”

“Nope.” I shook my head, crossing my arms. The insolent fool! Fallacious! I was going to flip a bitch on him again if he kept this up. “You’re the primary lyricist and the lead singer! You’re the face and meaning of the band, so I’m supposed to figure you out first.” I poked his chest, before recrossing my arms. “So try not to be a prick for just-.”

“Who gave you the right to-.” I smacked him upside the head again before rendering the conversation pointless.

“You are such a child.” I hissed, “I have no desire to work with you.”

I decided to walk back to the Gaskarth household, since I really needed to cool off. Rian and Jack recognized that, and bade farewell to me with nervous smiles.

Logically speaking, I don’t suppose it was a smart idea to walk home, considering the nation-wide increase of sexual predators, including that lacrosse player that had been following me today. Creeps, the lot of them. Regardless, I made the twelve minute commute to the two-story abode without a fuss, getting back and running up to my temporary room.

I had missed a call from Brendon. My phone seemed to dial itself as I called him back.

“Hey Stella!” He greeted politely.

“Hey Bren. You rang?”

“Oh yeah, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I didn’t get to talk to you much yesterday.” He said, almost like he was hiding something… I heard a door shut before Brendon said in a lower tone: “Ry’s been acting weird lately.”

“He’s always been pretty odd.” I shrugged, laying down on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I pulled my beanie off, setting it to the side. “I’m sure he’s just going through a phase.”

Brendon snickered, “No, not like that. He just keeps zoning out with this odd look in his eye. I think he really misses you.”

“How is that?” I asked, honestly curious.

“Well, you were the only one that could empathize with him when his dad passed, and you guys were always around each other…” He said, “Don’t get me wrong, Spence and I miss you too, it’s just that Ryan’s still going through all that grief, and it’s pretty tragic. He hasn’t laughed since you last talked to him this morning.”

I closed my eyes, biting my lip as I tried to figure out a solution to the problem, “I’ll talk to him in a while. I have my own dilemmas right now. I’m rude for not thinking of him, I know, but I’m in a foul mood, so I wouldn’t be much of a comfort.”

“Ah,” He said, “Trouble in paradise?”

I knew he wasn’t referring to the marriage saying. I’d called the music industry paradise several times while with Panic!. I nodded before remembering that Brendon wasn’t here with me. “Yeah. Who knew teenagers were such pricks?”

Brendon snorted, “For one thing, you’re one yourself, Stella. And what’s with the British lingo?”

I shrugged, “I’m residing in a British household with a completely conceited and insufferable lead vocalist.”

“Just go hang out with the songwriter.” He told me, as if that were comfort.

“He is the lyricist, Bren.” I huffed out a long breath as he made a ‘mmm’ sound, as if he were thinking.

“That’s rancid luck you’ve got, Stel.” He sympathized, “I wish I could help.”

“You guys were so much more mature, dammit.” I groaned, letting my head fall back onto the pillow, “I wish I could’ve worked with you guys for more time. Even if I’m bitchy and sarcastic, I still like being around people that are willing to work with me.”

“Well then that’s the problem.” Brendon told me, “The lead singer, what’s his name?”

“Gaskank.” I said immediately, “Alex Gaskank.” He snickered.

“Well, this Alex is probably just you in guy form, which is why you’re clashing.” He reasoned. It made a little sense. “Just try to be patient.”

“He ditched me for his girlfriend.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Brendon said, “I might only be a year older than you, Stella, but you’re really sounding immature right now.”

“I am not.” I narrowed my eyes, getting slightly offended.

“Right there, that’s what a thirteen-year-old whiny teenager would say.” He pointed out, causing me to huff. Perhaps he was right. I hated the thought, though.

“Fine. I’ll take it into consideration.” I grumbled. “Thanks, Bren.”

“Glad I can help.” His ADHD kicked in slightly as he said, “Isn’t it awesome?! I’M MATURE!”

I was silent for a moment before busting out laughing, “Very much so, B-den. See you later.”

“Ooh, Stells! Don’t forget to call him!” He reminded before adding on, “Bye, love!” and hanging up.

I lied on the bed for a moment, pondering his words. Maybe I should try to be a little bit more patient, after all, I’d only recently met the guys, so all my observations could just be irrational assumptions. I just didn’t like being wrong, or being questioned.

There, I admitted it.

I let out a breath, reaching for my notebook before remembering that I’d left it in Alex’s backpack.

Shit. Fuck! Dammit!

I wanted to scream, because my day was just turning out to be hellish. “Kill me now!” I whisper-yelled.

My phone beeped twice. Two text messages. I pulled out the contraption, flipping it open and looking at the screen. The first was from Brendon:

Be mature.

Funny, considering how that call had ended. The second was from a number that hadn’t been saved in my phone.

Sorry.

One word, but I could take a good guess at who it was from. Part of me wanted to say: “No you’re not.” But I decided against that.

It’s fine.

Even if it wasn’t, I just had to smooth it over for now. I could rant to myself later. There’s the maturity. I texted Brendon back as well:

Sounds like a plan, love.

We’d taken to calling each other love after I’d played his date at the Fever release party. His ex was a very passionate stalker. Regardless, I needed to find Alex. I wanted my notebook back, and I needed to know when band practice was.

His lyric book was in front of my doorway, like a delivered package. No note, just the tattered collection of paper that held more emotion and thoughts than most people wrote down in their whole lives. I picked it up, a smile betraying my nonchalant expression.

*.*.*

I’d been analyzing every carefully chosen word he’d written for ages. It was probably nearing night time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had missed their daily band practice. I’d written a few notes in, like a possible overlay in a bridge (because that seemed to be his trademark), or a metaphor that might fit in well. But it was mostly just a comment here and there. I felt like a grade school teacher, correcting a book report.

After I’d read to the most recent page, I let out a sigh, and my mind went in overdrive, trying to compose to lyrics I only just read. It didn’t feel right, though. It needed the band’s input. He shouldn’t be leaving them out of his lyrical experience. Being closed off limits how close and far the band will get. I don’t think Alex realized that.

I clutched the notebook to my chest like a sentimental junior high girl, thinking. During which time, I started a lazy stroll down the hallway.

Passing by Alex’s ajar door, I saw the back of his form seated at a desk, reading over something. He couldn’t be writing his own stuff, he didn’t have his notebook or a pencil. That meant-

Oh hell.

“Alex.” I said, the name sounding foreign coming off my tongue. Perhaps I should stick to his last name. He slammed the notebook shut and shoved it in his drawer. Well that pretty much confirmed it.

Be mature. Be mature. Be mature.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking fidgety and nervous.

“What were you doing?” I asked rhetorically, my eyes narrowing slightly.

“Nothing.” He lied.

Be mature. Be mature. Be mature.

“You know, Gaskarth, I really don’t take kindly to liars.”

“I’ve never told a lie.” Was he really resorting to reciting his own lyrics now?

“And that makes you a liar.” I finished the line, thoroughly nonplussed. I sighed. “I came for my songbook.” I returned his own collection of thoughts to his desk.

He jumped slightly at the sight of me with his notebook. “Oh, about that-.”

“Were they good?” I asked, cutting him off.

“What?”

“If you’re going to play dumb about reading my lyrics, you might want to take some acting lessons first, dumbass.” It was the cursing problem, I assure you. My legs just carried themselves to open the drawer he’d shoved my songbook in, “I was asking if the shit I write in my free time is good.”

He didn’t reply for a moment, “Why do you want my opinion?”

“Because you’ve got talent, Gaskarth. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You can convey whatever emotions you vie for, from what I’ve seen and heard myself, and that takes skill.” I said, turned away from him, my notebook in hand, “I’m actually starting to question why I’m here.”

“Well wasn’t Ryan really talented?” He sounded as if he were humoring the idea of being talented. He didn't really believe me.

“Of course he was, but he was terribly unorganized. His lyrics punched emotion into you whether you liked it or not, but it was all over the place.” I recalled, feeling slightly stressed. “You have everything down to an art, and even developed your own style.”

“Oh.” Alex deadpanned, for lack of a better word. I made a face. “Well, you’ve, uh, got great lines up your sleeve, too.”

My lip twitched, almost wanting to form a smile. “Thanks.”