Runaway Life With Rock Stars

Chapter 9 And Two Thirds

The music was loud and luckily, I found a corner at the end of the room to hand out in. I'm such a loser slash loner. But I prefer it that way so I don't attract attention.
I observed the people in the room. Tall, short, skinny, fat, drunk, hyper, and all other types of people had attended to this thing. Ray came over to me and asked politely, "Want a drink or anything I could get you?"

"Yeah...sure...can I get a beer?" I asked uncertain for his reaction.

"Most certainly not!" He replied quickly that his voice squeaked. It was funny that my eyes were smiling on their own, even though my lips were limp on my face. I probably have this ripped nerve in my face that doesn't let me laugh or anything. I mean, hello! I had to force my smiles or else I'm with that serious expression for my whole life. It sounds exaggerating, doesn't it? Well, that's the way things are, so yeah.

"Fine," I gave up with the hope. "Can I just have water?"

"Yeah." Before he turned away to get it, he said "I'll go check if they have any"

When he was gone, my eyes wondered around the room. They spotted Mikey flirting with a girl. He was happy-looking, but from what I could tell is that he was only making things look positive in his own eyes. She wasn't into him, for she was really eying the guy behind Mikey and trying to get his attention with her graceful movements and lovely smiles and dreamy laugh. And this guy was totally checking her out behind Mikey. Who was Mikey fooling? Didn't he notice this? I felt so ripped at heart just seeing this so I commenced to scan the place once again.

I spotted Bob next. He was ordering something to eat. Uh-oh. Now he's angry. This drunken guy just crashed into Bob and made him drop his delicious looking nachos. Now they were arguing and, well, why should I get into details? Just kidding, it's best to know the details, no? Yes. Well, after the argument, since Bob found it useless to argue with a drunk-ass dude, (But I also believe that it was to get away from this dude because you could smell him from wherever you stood in the room. The smell of sweaty liquor and smokes skin. Ew!), the guy apologized and had walked only a few feet away when he spilled out everything he had in his stomach onto the floor. It was disgusting, I swear, it was even pink! Good thing Bob had missed that though. Right when the drunken guy did this, Bob had turned around to order another batch of nachos and had walked the opposite direction, missing what the dude did. I was glad, because that would have pissed him off, having puke disturb with appetite.

Looking past more people, Ray was coming back with two drinks. He had a water bottle and a beer. Ooh-la-la! Guess whom the beer was for? Hee-hee-hee. Yes! Me! Or was it? We'll find out soon enough.

"Here you go," Ray said as he set the water bottle in front of me. Aw. It wasn't want I had actually hoped for. Oh well, that's life, always unfair. And if this were one of those anime cartoons, I swear I would be crying streams down my cheeks! But I guess this is swell so that it doesn't become like this addictive habit.

Ray sat down beside me and began, "So, Gerard tells me..."--Oh no! Did...did Gerard tell him my secret? Did he! That I'm a murderer?—"that he thinks you're cool in a way." Phew! If this were one of those anime cartoons, I would have this moment's pause and brush off the sweat from my forehead. Not that I had any by the way.

I said to him in a smooth voice to cover up my previous panic attack. "I don't know about that. I've always been very lame in that way he's probably talking about. Do you think you heard right? Because I don't think you did. Or probably he was to distracted with what he was going to say and he meant the opposite thing," I insisted as I spewed the words out.
"Nah. Really, I don't see Gerard being like that. What he says, he means. Besides, how could you think something like that?" He asked.

"Well, I'm very lame because I've been crying for my grief most of my lifetime. I live from abusive ways. I hate myself. I don't know much of the world that revolves around me to tell you the truth, which is followed by the fact that I never really finished school. That's somewhere I'm suppose to be, aren’t I?"

"So? That's not lame. You should be thankful that you at least don't have to do any work for school or be known as an outcast." He said, almost shouting the words at me, but he tried to keep his voice steady so it wouldn't rip through the room so harshly.

"You don't get it do you? I don’t want to be the person I am. I want a different life. I feel home-less! Like I don't belong anywhere I go. If I only had what a normal person my age had, then maybe I would have to fear life as I do now. Its so horrible having to wake up with a sick and empty stomach and afraid of where you go or walk and careful of doing no mistake because that would cause a beating and get bruises out of them. You wouldn't last one day--no-- Half a day, if you lived my life." I finished with anger wanting to spill over my whole body.

Ray looked down. Then he looked up and into my eyes. They twinkled like shining stars.

“Well, having a normal life isn't fun either. People can live a normal life but be miserable. And to tell you the truth, normal doesn't exist. That's only in a fantasy world as it is in movies and books. The reality in life is all that you had described. And just because you see that you're the only one dealing with a lot of it doesn't make you lame. And there is no need to cry your self to sleep. You're probably just traumatized with all you've lived through since you were very young, and having to deal with it all by yourself. I mean, to me, that's tough stuff. And right now, you're like my savior! Believe it or not, I'm looking up to you because you're very though. You got one hard shell." Those words were about the sweetest I've ever heard in truth. I avoided looking into his eyes. Was this also true? Who am I kidding? I can't even wish or fantasies myself in a "normal" life. I sigh away that dream. Now, I just need it to fade from my memory.

"I'm ashamed of who I am," I admitted with silence flowing after. I sighed and he said, "That’s normal to almost any human-being in this planet. The ones who aren't ashamed of them are all conceded. Trust me." He smiled and patted my shoulder. The kindness and potent was all his eyes said back to me and I thanked him for caring. I made sure of that.
The conversation was cast with following silence. Neither of us dared to break it as if it were unholy. We simple watched the world go round in the room area. I was the unholy thing there just then because I broke the silence. "Do you have a daemon?"

Ray looked at me all puzzled and asked as he sipped his beer-can, "What's that?"

"Its that little voice in your head that gives you advice when you don't know what to do. Like that little thing people call a conscience or your guardian angel. Its like an imaginary friend, yet its not because its a part of you; you're soul, to be exact." I explained as best I could.
Ray was all serious and manly when he said, "Oh, I knew that." But that just made him look like Arnold Swartz-A-Something (Who the hell can get his last name right anyways!). "I don't know. I think I may have one," he continued unsure.

"Of course you do. Everyone's got one." I assured him completely. (The one with a-e is the good type, and the one with the e alone is the bad type. So it'sdaemon for the good soul in you, and demon is for the bad soul. Like from the dark side, the ones that sort of belong to the devil.)

"Really?" He sounded surprised. I wonder why he was surprised. Was he acting? Hmm. He better not be. I better keep an eye on him from now on. So as to prove something to his faking, I asked, "So what's yours named as?"

"Uh...I don't know. This is new to me. But I'll tell you when I find out." He sipped more of his beer. Just look at him. He's probably going to forget this piece of our conversation. You can't just find out what you're daemon is named. You just know! I guess he is now thinking I'm delusional or something. Maybe even a psycho. Oh well. I don't care. I've been called worse.
He crushed the can with his bare hand. I was likewhoa... It was the most amazing thingEver! I couldn't help myself. I reached over and squeezed his arm to see if he had that muscular bicep. He just starred at me and was all, "What are you doing?"

I giggled insecurely and slow like "Heh-heh...nothing."

He asked me a moment later after the awkwardness. "What's you're daemon's name?" Wow. Was he really paying attention to that previous conversation we had only a minute or two ago? Anyways, I answered excitedly you would have thought I was on caffeine for two days straight without sleep! "I never figured out a name for my daemon, so I name him Daemon!" I guess my daemon was really the one too excited to be noticed by someone else rather than me. I chuckle at him. I seriously do. Poor Daemon. He must get pretty lonely-er than I am myself. Being locked up all the time with no other daemon to talk to. Sigh. Poor Daemon.

"So it's a him?" he asks.

"Yes." I confirmed. "It's a him if you're a girl. It's a her if you're a boy. It's the same gender as you are if you're a guy or a girl. Like for lesbians, it's a girl. For gays, its a guy. Get it?"

"Yeah. So, mine's a girl daemon?" he asks.

"Yes."

"How do you know this?" he asks suspiciously.

I nod my head from side to side slightly. "It is all explained in the books of the one and only Philip Pullman. Like in the trilogy of His Dark Materials. If you know what that is. Do you?" I ask.

He looks as blank as paper. "No."

"They’re from his books." I describe to him.

"Oh," he says all retarded-like. "I don't like to read much." I gasp deeply at this.

"How dare you!" I say to him his a slap at his shoulder.

"Because I dare!" He says it all conceded. Seriously, it was funny. He looked like a white-girl trying to speak Spanish! (No offense to anyone)