The Brink of Destruction

"So what have you done with my best friend?" Mike asked, setting Wynn's backpack down on the bed. She was hanging her jacket in the closet, and I could hear her laughing.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"Here's the usual morning routine--alarm goes off, I get up, start a pot of coffee, and that sawed-off little shit comes in and says something like, 'Fuck you, asshole.' You know what happened this morning?"

"I have no idea. What?" Wynn stretched out beside him on the bed, grinning at me. She was enjoying this, too.

"I'm in the kitchen, and I hear him in the bathroom singing. Singing! At 8:30 in the morning! What have you done to him?" He looked at me in fake disbelief.

I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him. "Oh, come on, he's just looking forward to your show this weekend, that's all."

"Nope, it's definitely something more than that. Hell, he even took my laundry with him last night to the laundromat! Either you've done something mysterious or I need to seriously consider alien abduction!" His blue eyes were twinkling.

Wynn spoke up. "Sounds like you two had an interesting evening! Care to share any details?"

"Look, guys, all we did was go out to eat and take a walk in the Gardens, just like the two of you do all the time. It was lovely, I had a wonderful time, Billie was a perfect gentleman-"

Mike almost choked at this.

"Well, all I can tell you is that he's been insufferable today. If I see him grinning one more time I'm gonna be sick!" he joked. "When Billie stops being a shithead, the end of the world must be close at hand!"

I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to my calculus notes. The exam was in two hours, and I was getting nervous.

"How'd your Lit midterm go?" Wynn asked, pulling her books out and stacking them on the desk. "Was it mostly Faulkner, like you hoped?"

"I wish. She hit Joseph Conrad pretty hard, and I really never got 'Heart of Darkness.' But she did throw some Steinbeck and Plath in there, so all in all it wasn't too bad. How about your Art practical?"

"Mmm. We had to do a still life composition, which I find kind of boring. I can't wait until we start abstracts."

"You don't have to do any nudes, do you?" Mike asked, trying to sound as if he didn't really care either way.

She reached over and pinched his behind, making him yelp. "If we do, I promise you'll be my model!"

"Hey, you two, get a room!" I yelled.

****************

To make a long story short, the calculus exam didn't go well. More precisely, it was a disaster. I walked out feeling as though I'd tried to detangle a hopeless knot of numbers with boxing gloves on. French would go well, I thought, but it was an elective, not a major or pre-med course, so I couldn't count on it to help me too much.

Halfway through my first semester and I was already in trouble. This was not good.

The rest of the afternoon was open, so I got a salad at the student union and took it outside. I found an open table with a little bistro umbrella over it and sat down to read the newspaper and watch the people going by.

Down in the corner of the "Weekend" page was a list of homecoming events, and damned if Sweet Children wasn't on the list. There was no picture, but they were billed right after the game, which was pretty good publicity. Carefully, I tore out the article and slid it inside my notebook for safekeeping, so I could show the guys.

I was scanning the personals to see if anyone had posted anything particularly kinky when I heard my phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Gen, honey, it's your mother. How are you?"

"Oh, fine, Mom. Just eating a bite of lunch."

"How are your exams going?" she asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice.

"Pretty well," I lied. "I have two of them out of the way, and the other two tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed for me."

"I will. Listen, sweetheart, your dad and I were just wondering if you were planning to come home this weekend, since your midterms will be finished. We'd love to see you, and Dustin's mother said he was coming home on Friday, too."

She didn't know yet. Maybe because I hadn't told her. Had Dustin kept it from his family, too?

"Um, Mom, I've been meaning to tell you--I have some kind of bad news about Dustin and me. We've decided to take a break for a while from dating and just be friends. Nothing bad happened, but being so far apart, it's just hard." Another lie, not a big one, but still...

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. She and my dad had really liked Dustin, mainly because he was so polite. "How are you holding up? Is it making school difficult for you?" Bless her heart, she thought I was all distraught, I guess.

"No, I'm okay, really. I think it's probably the best thing. But about the weekend--I have a commitment for Saturday that I can't reschedule, so I guess I'll have to try for the weekend after that. Would that be okay with you guys?"

"Sure, honey, just let us know when you can come and I'll send Dad to pick you up." I felt guilty hearing the note of letdown in her voice, but made a promise to myself that in less than two weeks, I'd see my family. Maybe then I wouldn't have to worry about what I'd say if I ran into Dustin.

Exam week was finally over, the homecoming game whistle had blown, and we had miraculously beaten Wake Forest 14-13 in the last 2 minutes, leaving the whole campus in a state of near riot. As if they'd smelled victory in the air, the SAE's had been setting up the bonfire since morning, dismantling their benches for the sacrificial pyre. Now some of them were huddled over the giant heap of wood, arranging kindling to make sure it would be ready to ignite quickly. Outside Windsor dorm, a row of kegs stood ready, stacks of cups in plastic sleeves on a chair beside them. It promised to be a true Bacchanalian ode to excess.

By the time Billie, Mike and Tre climbed up on the stage platform, the crowd had grown to nearly fifteen hundred people, with more streaming in steadily. Kiko, Wynn and I stood close to the corner of the stage, away from the pit area, and as they did their sound check, Billie and Mike grinned and winked at us. Tre, as usual, was making faces at every girl he saw.

Once they started playing, they absolutely owned the crowd. Billie seemed to have them mesmerized, and as he led them in a call-and-response or held out the microphone for them to finish a chorus, he was Jim Morrison and Elvis Presley and James Dean all rolled into one. He seemed so different from the sullen, angry guy who had performed at Kiko's house party--now he was connecting with the audience, engaging them, smiling and laughing with them. They felt like a part of the show, and the response was electric. If he'd asked them to set themselves on fire, they'd have brought out the matches.

Mike was vicious on his bass, shredding sinister lines or walking it with ultimate cool. He had learned to work the crowd, too, one long, lean leg thrust out behind him, his face leering or grimacing as the music led him.

And then there was Tre. Never one to hide behind his drums, he channeled Keith Moon as he attacked the cymbals as though they were a pack of mad dogs. Every so often he'd throw a pair of drumsticks out into the audience, and they'd be snatched up to be kept as mementos. He showed his appreciation by falling off the stool or diving into the crowd.
I was so proud of them. I could hardly believe they were the same band I'd seen less than two months before. And the show would have been perfect, except for one small, seemingly insignificant glitch.

As I mentioned, the stage was set up right outside the SAE fraternity house. Most of the brothers were pretty nice, but a few had an attitude of privilege that just got on my last nerve. One of them, a barrel-chested redhead, had already gotten very, very drunk, cursing, falling over on the people standing around him and annoying the hell out of everyone. He was quickly making one enemy after another as he he stumbled and shoved his way toward the stage. Then, for no apparent reason, he yelled loudly at Billie, "You suck, lowlife! Get off the stage!"

I saw the change come over his face instantly. Mike threw him a nervous look, wondering if he was going to stop playing and go after the guy. I'm not sure he wouldn't have. But when he turned toward me, looking for support, I knew something needed to happen to lighten the mood before things turned ugly.

In desperation, I did the first thing that came to mind. Grasping the hem of my shirt, I took a deep breath for courage, plastered a big grin on my face, and hoisted it up in front just long enough for him to catch a glance. The look of shock on his face--and Mike's--was priceless.
I was now a flasher.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Wynn gaping at me like a carp, her eyes huge. "Did you just--"

"What? You've never seen boobs before?" I was blushing like a maniac, and when she and Kiko looked at each other and doubled over laughing, I'd have been glad to see the earth open up and swallow me.

But it was worth it, because Billie didn't kick frat boy's ass.

As they finished their last number, "My Generation," Billie held his guitar aloft, strumming the last flourish. The crowd roared their approval, clapping and cheering, and a pair of sea foam green panties sailed through the air and snagged on Tre's high hat stand, partially revealing a phone number written on the back.

Remember how Billie wanted to make it a show they'd never forget?

He stepped back up to the microphone, thanked the audience for coming and for showing their support. Then he looked directly at the redhead. "This is for you, motherfucker!" he shouted.

He turned around, hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants, and pulled them to his knees, waving his bare ass right at the astonished drunk.

"Go ruin somebody else's party and leave these people the fuck alone!" he barked. Frat boy's jaw sagged, his face blazing redder than it already was.

Billie calmly hauled up his boxers and jeans, zipped and buttoned up, and proceeded down the steps of the stage to where we were standing. "So how'd you like it?" he asked, as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Oh, it was a wonderful show," I managed to say, still a little stunned.

A wicked grin spread across his face. "And may I say the same for you?
"