The Last Good Thing About This Part of Town

"Oh. My. God, you are not gonna believe this girl I was partnered with in Chem," Joe Trohman proclaimed as he dropped his brown bag lunch on the table then sat across from his best friend.

"What do you mean?" Patrick Stumph stopped writing in his composition notebook and raised his head to look at Joe.

"Ok, well, first off, apparently she's been going to school with us since sixth grade, but I swear I have never seen her face before,” Joe dug around in his crinkly paper bag until he pulled out a red apple.

“There are about 3,000 kids in this school,” Patrick reminded him.

“Fine,” Joe took a big bite of the apple and chewed as he continued, “good luck trying to get to know her or, heaven forbid, do Chem labs together. I think she said, like, five words in the twenty minutes we had to uncomfortably sit next to each other and decide who was going to do what for this assignment.”

“So she’s shy,” Patrick shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe she’ll open up a little the more you spend time together. Do you have to work on this outside of class?”

“Yeah, probably,” Joe mumbled around another mouthful of apple then noticed that Patrick wasn’t eating anything. He usually brown-bagged it too, but there was only an open math book and composition notebook in front of him. Joe pulled the turkey and cheese sandwich from his bag and set it down on top of Patrick’s math book. “Here, man.”

“Thanks,” Patrick’s eyes scanned the math book as his right hand copied Trigonometry problems into his notebook.

“What’s the rush?”

“I have a Trig test next period and I totally forgot we can have one sheet of notes. I spent, like, two hours studying last night. Then Aaron, this guy from my class, called because he was stuck one one of the graphs and he reminded me that we were allowed a sheet of notes, but by then my brain was fried so I played some guitar instead then fell asleep. I’ve been working on this thing since I woke up this morning,” Patrick took a breath and ran his left hand through his straight blonde hair, making the strands on the back of his head stick straight up. He reminded Joe of Doc Brown from 'Back to the Future', all wild hair and big, tired crazy eyes.

“Trick, take a five minute break, eat the sandwich, think about my problems for a minute, then you can go back to obsessing over your math test, which I’m sure you’ll do fine at,” Joe slid his hand under the cover of the Trigonometry book and slammed it closed. Patrick exhaled deeply and sat up straighter, actually paying attention to his best friend for the first time in ten minutes. He unwrapped the sandwich from its aluminum foil – Joe preferred to use aluminum foil because, he says, it’s cheaper than plastic sandwich bags and saran wrap makes food taste like plastic.

“So this Chem lab partner of yours,” Patrick said around the bite of turkey, cheese and wheat bread in his mouth, “how’s that gonna work out?”

“Ah, you are paying attention,” Joe grinned.

“Dude, I can listen and do homework at the same time.”

“No, you can’t, but that’s beside the point,” Joe looked up at the clock on the far wall of the busy cafeteria. They only had about five minutes of lunch left, assuming that clock was correct. 'Perfect timing', Joe silently congratulated himself. “This girl, though, totally inaccessible.”

“Why do you say that?” Patrick inquired.

“I asked her about herself, you know, what she likes, what she does on the weekends, just basic get-to-know-you stuff and she, like, completely shut me out. She was all one word answers and closed off, non-committal body language. Then, when we were leaving, I asked if she wanted to work at her house or mine and she immediately said she was busy this weekend so why don’t we get together some time after school and do it in the Chem lab. Stay after school?! Does she think I have no life?” Joe’s voice became increasingly louder and pitched up a half octave as he spoke.

“Like I said, maybe she’s shy and turned off by your loud mouth and overbearing personality,” Patrick finished the sandwich and crumpled up the foil, tossing it toward the large garbage can at the end of the ten foot table. The foil hit the edge of the can and plopped on the floor.

“Oh, good job, buddy, you ever think of trying out for the basketball team?” Joe teased. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and the two boys stood to leave.

“Shut up,” Patrick glared at his friend but couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from turning up slightly.

“Or how about hockey…or soccer....” Joe trailed off as he went upstairs to his fourth period class while Patrick braved the locker-slamming mob that was the Junior hallway to get to his Trigonometry class.

******

Patrick and Joe had only one class together this semester; Independent Music. It was their favorite class and also the last one of the day. Patrick used the time as an opportunity to unwind from being around people all day, and Joe just loved the fact that he could play his guitar as loud as he wanted without someone yelling to keep it down. As Joe tuned his guitar, Patrick took his place behind the school band’s drum set. It was a nice enough kit, a middle of the line Ludwig, but he loved it because it was a full five-piece. At home, he only had a bass drum, one snare and a floor tom that his dad pulled out of a neighbor’s trash. It was nice to have an actual ride cymbal to keep a rhythm, and crash cymbals are not only fun to beat on but are also necessary to accent swells and musical mood changes.

He pulled his own sticks from his backpack and tapped them twice against each drum head, then on each cymbal, while Joe plucked at each of the guitar’s strings. Every time he heard a wrong pitch, Joe screwed up his face and adjusted the pegs until he achieved the desired sound.

“You ready to rock?” he looked over at Patrick, who shoved one stick in the air as affirmation. Patrick clicked off a four count with his sticks. Joe started in with the opening riff of Green Day’s ‘Longview’. They played through a couple older Green Day songs, then Joe switched gears to Metallica. Patrick didn’t really dig heavy metal music but he knew, if given a chance, Joe would play heavy metal all day. He claimed there was nothing more beautiful and religious than an extended screaming guitar solo. So Patrick indulged him. He played a general back beat to Joe’s melody-heavy guitar because he wasn’t familiar with the actual drum line of, well, really any Metallica song.

They ended with a few minutes to spare before the final bell. Patrick wiped some of the sweat off his forehead with his hand and wiped his hand on his pants. Joe packed up his guitar.

“Hey, man, do you think your mom will mind if my lab partner and I use your house instead of mine?” Joe asked, closing his guitar case and pushing the locks in place.

Patrick furrowed his brow, “I don’t think she’ll mind, but why would you want to use my house? Yours is huge and impressive.”

“And immaculate and intimidating and…sterile.”

Joe had a point. His dad was a highly-esteemed cardiologist and his mom was the definition of a high class socialite. They were great people. Patrick was sure Joe was never want for love or material possessions, but they – his mom in particular – were very concerned with appearances.

“I thought you guys weren’t getting together outside of school.” Just then, the final bell rang and the halls became busy with jostling bodies trying to get to lockers and voices calling out to find out what their friends were doing after school. Patrick and Joe decided to wait a few minutes before leaving the band room to let the chaos that was the end of a school day clear out.

“As it turns out, she’s also in my history class and she came up to me afterwards to change our original plans because she says she has something to do tonight.”

“Well, that’s not vague or anything,” Patrick chimed in. He could still feel sweat rolling down his forehead and the back of his neck. He quickly ran his hand through his fine hair several times, drops of perspiration spraying across the room.

“Right, anyway, I said it’s fine, when do you want to do this thing, and she said tomorrow after school,” Joe continued. “So, I offered up your house since the band will be practicing there tomorrow night anyway. I figured we could go home with you and her and I could knock this Chem lab out before the rest of the guys get there. Then we can have the rest of the night to do whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Patrick slung his backpack onto his shoulders.

“Sweet. I gotta go. I’m meeting Lindsay for a little R & R tonight,” Joe wiggled his eyebrows and grinned suggestively as he mentioned his girlfriend.

“Get outta here, you dog,” Patrick said, motioning toward the door. The boys walked together out to their respective cars.

******

The next day was Friday, which Patrick viewed as both a blessing and a curse. He loved the fact that it was the weekend, but he hated that he usually spent his Saturday nights alone. Friday nights were his favorite because Joe and the guys from his band came over to practice and they were cool with letting him play some of the guitar parts. Usually, Friday night band practices were also 'No girls allowed' in the basement. It was just the five of them, their instruments and the music. So tonight was going to be...interesting, what with Joe and his mysterious lab partner coming over right after school.

The final class of the day ended, and Patrick immediately headed out to his car. He didn't have any homework so there was no need to stop at his locker. He noticed Joe was already at his car, tossing his backpack into the backseat of the black coupe Grand Am. A short, dark-haired girl stood near the passenger's side door -- the elusive lab partner, Patrick presumed -- but he couldn't see her face because she was facing the car, one hand on the door handle, waiting for Joe to unlock her side of the car.

"Oh, sorry." Patrick heard Joe say as he pressed the unlock button on the key fob a second time. Joe wasn't used to having to unlock both sides of his own car. He rarely drove people around. He claimed gas was too expensive and he much preferred to let someone else drive anyway. The girl got in the small car. "Patrick!" Joe called out, waving his friend over. "Hey, man! Come here and I'll introduce you."

Patrick figured now was as good a time as any to find out who she was. She was going to be at his house in about five minutes and his mom always taught him it wasn't polite to just ignore people. When he was a kid, he would tell her he wasn't ignoring them, he just wasn't into being forced to make small talk. But she made him at least introduce himself and say hi in social situations. If Joe was any less outgoing and devil-may-care, Patrick wasn't sure they would have ever talked to each other that day they sat down next to each other in seventh grade math. He crossed the busy parking lot to his friend and leaned down to see inside the car as Joe did the talking.

"Trick, my lab partner Julianna. Julianna, my best friend the guy's whose house we'll be invading, Patrick."

"Hi," Patrick offered a shy smile and extended his hand across the driver's seat.

"Hi, thanks," the girl, Julianna, shook his hand in a firm grasp, but her words were stiff and she didn't smile. She hardly even looked at him. She was unconventionally pretty if one looked hard enough, but at first impression she wasn't anything special. She was small and petite with long, thick, wavy dark hair that fell in her face and big brown eyes. Her whole demeanor was tense and stand-offish, as if she would defend herself at the first sign of trouble. Joe was right. She gave off an aura of inaccessibility, and Patrick wondered if she had any friends at all.

At his house, Patrick parked his car on the far right side of the two car garage. Joe pulled into the driveway behind Patrick's car. Compared to Joe's house, and most houses in Glenview, the Stumph residence was modest. Patrick lived with his mom and older brother and sister in a ranch-style home built in the early 1980s, with three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms, on an acre and a half of land. The basement was huge though, and the former house owners had finished it, so Mrs. Stumph told Patrick and his friends that they could use the basement for band practices and hanging out if they sound proofed it. As a thirteen year old, Patrick knew nothing about sound proofing, but his dad, a folk musician, did. He helped Patrick and Joe section off part of the basement for a music space. They put in two walls to make a room in the far corner of the basement and made their own sound proofing panels out of styrofoam and fabric.

It was by no means a professional studio, but the sound quality was decent for a basement, and Patrick's mom never yelled at them to be quieter. Plus, Patrick really loved spending the time working with his dad. Joe did too. His dad was supportive of his musical endeavors but didn't have time to spend working with his son or going to see him play, so Joe really liked being with Patrick and his dad, and he was grateful they let him hang out all the time.

"Hey, Mom, we're home!" Patrick called out as the trio made their way into the house through the door that connected the laundry room to the garage.

"Hi, boys...oh, and who is this?" asked Mrs. Stumph once she saw the girl lagging slightly behind, trying to hide behind Joe's taller frame and big, curly hair.

"Mrs. Stumph, this is my lab partner Julianna," Joe answered, moving aside slightly. "Julianna, this is the sweetest, most beautiful lady in the world."

"Well, I won't argue with that," Mrs. Stumph smiled and focused her attention on Julianna. She wasn't used to Patrick being the one bringing girls home. His older brother Kevin, a sophomore in college, had quite a reputation as a ladies' man, but Patrick was always more timid and respectful of the opposite gender. "Hello, honey, it's so nice to meet you."

"Hi, ma'am, thanks for letting us work here," Julianna seemed to relax a little bit around Patrick's mom.

"Oh, it's no problem," Mrs. Stumph waved her hand dismissively. "Would you like something to drink? We've got water, of course, milk, and Patrick, sweetheart, there's some pop out in the garage. I'm not sure what all is out there, but if it's a Coke product we probably have it."

"Uh, I-- water is fine," Julianna looked between Patrick and his mom.

"I'll get my own," Joe announced, heading back out into the garage. He reappeared seconds later with a can of Mountain Dew and a can of Coke, which he handed to his friend, as Mrs. Stumph filled a glass with ice and water for Julianna. With drinks in hand, the three headed down to the basement.

"So, Julianna, do you like music?" Joe asked. The wooden stairs creaked slightly under their combined weights.

"Yeah," Julianna shrugged. Patrick lead the way, with Joe right behind him, into the biggest basement she had ever seen. There was a navy blue sectional sofa and an old, brown burka lounger facing a 32'' TV almost directly in the center of the room, and a turntable record player and receiver hooked up to some very large speakers against the wall to the right of the TV. A dartboard hung on the left wall, with black tape stretched across the concrete floor about ten feet back to mark the spot from where the darts were to be thrown. Beyond that, there was a room built at the back of the basement that looked like it was meant to be a practice room or music studio. She saw some drums and guitars, a keyboard and a Mac computer. The walls were padded with gray, corrugated foam and fabric-covered sound panels, and a glass door closed it all in. Obviously, these guys -- well, Patrick at least -- were musicians. But she did vaguely remember Joe saying something about band practice later tonight.

"What kind of music do you like?"

'Geez, this Joe guy asks a lot of questions.' Julianna sat on the burka lounger as Joe and Patrick made themselves comfortable on either end of the sectional.

"I like just about everything," Julianna shrugged again, hugging her backpack on her lap as if to put a shield between herself and them. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to do this stupid partner lab, get a decent grade and be done with these guys, especially the overly friendly, bordering-on-nosy Joe.

"Oh, come on, that's a cop out," Joe grinned. "You can't tell me you like opera...or country." He looked almost pained just saying the words and entertaining the idea that they were even considered musical genres. She just shrugged again. She didn't necessarily care for those particular types of music, but she cared even less for Joe's presumptuous attitude. As if he knew he or what she liked. Yeah right, and if she had her way, he never would. "Ok, what bands do you like?"

"I don't know," she looked at Patrick as if to say 'what is wrong with your friend? What doesn't he just mind his own business?' But Patrick didn't seem to pick up on her silent cues. And why would he? They didn't know anything about each other except their names. Maybe if she answered his question Joe would let them actually get to work. "I like Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Michael Jackson, The Runaways."

"Ah, big beats, strong melodies and powerhouse vocals," Joe nodded as if he approved. She didn't need or want his approval. "Nice."

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but it is Friday night and, apparently, you guys have plans, so can we just get to work?" Julianna asked.

"Um, sure," Joe shot a sidelong glance at his friend then opened his backpack and pulled out his Chem book. The lab sheet was stuck between the pages. Julianna did the same.

"Ok, well, I'm not needed here, so I'm gonna -- well, I'll just be back there," Patrick grabbed his can of Coke and motioned toward the music room. He was kind of -- no, he just was adorably awkward. 'No!' Julianna scolded herself silently. 'You don't care about these guys. They aren't interested in a friendship with you. Just do your work and get out.' Much to Julianna's surprise, Joe did manage to stay on task and they finished the entire lab by quarter after five. The entire time they worked, Patrick was back in his music room. Through the glass door, she could see him playing an electric guitar, but she couldn't hear what he was playing through the sound proofed walls. She was aware of his presence, and that fact alone bothered her. Of all the boys she could be intrigued by or attracted to -- or whatever her draw to him happened to be -- why Patrick Stumph? They just met! 'Ok, technically, we have been classmates for the past five years, but he's a band geek, apparently, and I'm...what am I? The wallflower? The loner?'

"Hey, Julianna," Patrick said as he walked out of the music room, his gaze affixed to the floor and his hands shoved in the front pockets of his ripped blue jeans, "um, if you don't have plans or anything, would you, I mean, you're invited to stay and listen to our jam session...if you want."

Joe shot a dirty look at his friend, then grinned as he realized it took all the courage Patrick had in him to ask that one simple question. He turned to the girl and piped in, "Yeah, you should stay. The guys will be here soon and you could let us know what songs we should keep and which ones totally suck. We're kind of biased, so it would be nice to have a third party opinion."

"I mean, but you don't have to," Patrick quickly added when he saw the wide-eyed, shocked expression on her face. Her eyebrows drew together in a crease between her eyes as if she was actually mulling over their offer. Probably debating the pros and cons of staying to hear a bunch of rockstar wannabes play what they called music. Or she could just walk away and go about her solitary life as if Patrick and Joe haven't been two of the kindest, sweetest guys she has ever met.

"Boys!" called Mrs. Stumph from the top of the basement stairs, "the other boys are here."