Something Else

The bus was moving when I woke up. It was still dark in the front lounge except for the faint yellow glow of sunshine flooding through the curtained windows. It was quiet too, which surprised me. In a bus filled with eleven guys, I expected at least one to snore. As I sat up on the couch, rubbing my stiff neck, I thought about the night before. It wasn't unusual for John and I to fight. It was a major part of our friendship. What surprised me was how quickly we fell back into routine. I hadn't expected John to treat me as if we'd never lost touch, but just like Kennedy, he was treating me exactly the way he did in high school. We always worked the same way; he'd hit on me and I'd pick fights with him. As I walked back to the bunks I thought, I might have actually missed that.

I climbed into my bunk, pulling the curtain closed and turning on the light. My phone said it was nine in the morning, and I imagined that boys wouldn't be getting out of bed any time soon. To occupy myself, I put a movie into my mac and got comfortable. About halfway through the film I heard someone leave their bunks and start up the small coffee machine in the front lounge. Deciding I might as well get up, I stopped the film and closed the mac.

I slipped out of the bunk as quietly as possible and made my way back to the front lounge. Tim, the drummer's brother was leaning against the counter, watching the coffee pot.

"Morning," I said taking a seat on the couch.

"Hey. It's Keagan, right?" he asked, turning away from the coffee.

I nodded. "Yeah. That's me."

"You know, Kennedy always mentioned you. John too," Tim said leaving the coffee to take the spot next to me on the couch.

"Really?" I asked, not really believing it.

I hadn't spoken to them in years and they still talked about me. Maybe with Kenny, it was more believable, but I would have thought John wouldn't have much to say.

"Really," Tim answered. "I mean, all John really said was that you were hot and that you had a temper, but Kenny had nothing but good things to say about you."

"Now, that I believe."

"You really shouldn't believe anything Tim tells you." The new voice was John's, as he emerged from the bunk area. He was smirking, and I was reminded how much he did it while we knew each other. "He's a compulsive liar."

"I think you're the one that's lying, Johno," I said.

"I guess you could always tell when I was lying. What would be different now?" John smiled and took the seat across from me. Our spat from last night was seemingly forgotten. Maybe he'd been more pissed than I thought.

"I don't know. I thought things had changed when you greeted me the way you did, as if we hadn't been friends all through high school."

"Oh how I've missed our banter," John sighed dramatically and then chuckled.

I felt a smile pull at my lips. "You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I think I have as well."

;;

I hadn't really thought about it before, but after a few hours on the bus I realized how much time we'd actually spend driving. Of course I knew what tour entailed. I knew we'd be living on the bus, stopping at venues every night and having an occasional day off. Of course, it never occurred to me that after a few hours, being on the bus would get a bit boring for me.

Most of the time the guys were playing video games, writing songs, and doing anything they could to entertain themselves. For a while I found myself enjoying the shouting whenever they cheated on video games, or when a few of us would sit down to watch a movie, but everything gets old eventually. After half a day on the bus I was ready to get out of there.

"Hey, Kenny," I said, flopping down on the sofa next to him.

"Yeah?"

"When do we stop driving?" I asked in a groan.

Kennedy laughed and patted my back in a you-are-such-a-noob-it's-hilarious way. "We're making a gas stop soon I think, and now that we're through all that traffic we'll be at the venue in no time."

"Awesome," I said, smiling. "Hey, have I told you that I'm liking this facial hair on you yet?"

Kennedy laughed and gave me a strange look. "No you haven't," he answered, still chuckling a little.

"Oh, well I do."

Kenny laughed again and said thank you. In only two minutes we had pulled into a rest stop off the highway. Everyone filed out of the bus rather quickly, and I was happy to realize I wasn't the only one who felt cooped up on the bus. I would have thought the guys would have been used to it by now.

Pat was obviously the most excited about being able to stretch his legs. He ran around the parking lot laughing like a mad man. I heard Jared mention something about an alter ego, but I didn't really pay attention. I made my way into the stop, looking around for some magazines to read once we were back on the bus. I had lost track of the guys, but for a moment I thought I saw Jared's light hair pass by. I found a magazine rack easy enough, and started flicking through them.

"Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" John's voice asked after I had stopped on a bridal magazine. "Unless you have a boyfriend you haven't told anyone about."

I rolled my eyes and put the magazine down, picking up the latest issue of vogue instead. John appeared at my side, grinning. I felt the left corner of my mouth curl upward involuntarily.

"Not quite," I said, starting toward the cashier. John followed, his long, lean legs having no trouble keeping up with my own.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" John asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Or something like one?"

I smiled. No matter how protective Kenny was of me, I could always tell that John was just a little bit more. He didn't make it obvious. He didn't make anything obvious really, but I could see that much. Kennedy was the one who had always asked questions. Who is this guy? Does he treat you right? Does he have a criminal record? 'Cause I'll look him up! John was much more subtle and I didn't really notice until his senior year, when I started dating a boy also named John. John – Johno, not the kid I was dating – never really asked me about boyfriends, but he did some things that got his feeling across. Senior year, whenever my boyfriend John and I were meant to go out, John would show up at my door, Kennedy next to him. They always claimed that they had no idea I had been planning on going out that night, and then insisted on staying until my date arrived. Kennedy often questioned boyfriend John, while Johno hung back with me, silently watching my expression as Kennedy drilled my date.

It was simple things like that. He never confronted me about anything, but I could see it in his eyes those nights he and Ken would show up at my door. He didn't like these dates. He didn't like these boys.

"Why so curious, O'Callaghan?" I asked as I passed the teenager at the register my magazine and pulled a random bag of crisps off the rack next to me.

"You know me," he said.

"Do I?"

John didn't say anything else, but he stood at the register with me until the girl gave me my change. We walked back outside together, my magazine rolled up in my fist between us. John lit a fag the second we were in fresh air, which seemed ironic to me. I watched, nicotine cravings burning inside me. John noticed me eyeing his fag.

"You want one?" he asked, pulling the box out his pocket.

I nodded. He handed me the cancer stick and his lighter. I refused it and pulled my own out of my jacket pocket, lighting up as fast as I could.

"When'd you start?" John asked, blowing smoke into the air in front of us. As we were walking it blew right back into our faces.

"Living in New York City exposes you to so much second hand. My roommates all smoked. I guess it just became a part of me eventually," I said, struggling to get my lighter back into my pocket.

"You never struck me as the type to give into peer pressure, K," John said. "You were always the designated driver to parties if I remember correctly."

"I'm surprised you remember anything at all," I retorted with a snort.

John gave me a falsely offended look and then chuckled a bit. When we found the bus parked in the lot, we didn't go inside. Instead, we sat outside smoking and waiting for the rest of the guys to get back. John and I made small talk, and eventually delved into my college life. John liked comparing it to his first and only year of higher education.

"I'm sort of glad you quit school," I said, after John had been complaining about something at ASU. "I know that you and Kenny and the other guys really wanted this. It's nice to see that it's working out so amazingly for you."

"Thanks, K," John said before taking a drag from his cancer stick. "Not everyone has your sentiments."

"I thought your parents were pretty supportive?

"They were," he said. "They are. Just people from my past weren't as supportive as everyone else. I guess it was good. All that 'you get to see who real friends are' shit."

His voice was low, bitter. It was heartbreaking. For a moment, I believed that he would open up, that he would elaborate, explain what he was thinking. He never did. Instead he shook his head, as if it would erased the thoughts that had just been occupying his brain.

"Better get on the bus," he said, as if nothing had happened.

John pushed himself up, threw his cigarette to the ground and walked away. I watched him disappear before stomping out my fag and following the same path he took moments earlier.