Runaway Life With Rock Stars

Chapter Three

Dios mio! Was this an earthquake? No…its more of a…

“Um…what…hm…uh,” I mumbled through lazy lips. Heavy eyelids once more struggled to open while I turned on my back to see Gerard who was rocking me gently. Drowsily, I spoke with Sahara Desert lips, “Yeah?”

“Hey, we’re almost in Vegas. Get up and eat something, but first—,” I interrupted him with, “What time is it?” He looked at his black bat digital wristwatch. “It’s six thirty-three." It was a cute little watch; the bat's wings were straps wrapped around his wrist; the bat's body was obviously the mechanical device to show the time; it had these big movable eyes at the top of the screen. “Nice watch, I like it,” I admired.

“Thanks,” he said, “my mother gave it to me.” Mother? What is Mother? Can someone please define that word for me physically! I don’t really know what a Mother does or how they speak anymore. I never really had one to give me a gift like a digital wristwatch; so, what? Is that what mother’s do? “I like your brown-tangled hair.” Tangled! My hair was Tangled! But how if it’s naturally straight? Wait…oh...wait…it was probably because of all the tossing and turning I was doing last night. Hee-hee, the bunk was about the most comfortable thing I've ever slept on I was tossing all over the place to absorb the feeling forever just in case I would never get a mattress to sleep on ever again. “Thanks.” I said, forgetting my Freak-Out Moment.

He left and Frank came in the room. “Here.” He tossed me his sonic toothbrush. “You can use it for now to brush, you’ll pay me back later.” Was he serious? I looked at toothbrush then to his face. He was serious. Teasingly he said, “I don’t have cooties!”

I stared at him. “What are ‘cooties’?”

“Germs.” He was amazed that I didn’t know what the hell “cooties” were. I’m not smart! Quit giving me that look, Frank! You make me feel like a retard! I cried in my insane mind.

I got out from the bunk and shut the door from the little restroom. Looking at Frank’s toothbrush once more I grabbed the toothpaste from the sink and started to brush. Ooh, what a minty taste the toothpaste has! Ditching the toothbrush, I started to suck on the toothpaste tube. Mm…so mint and fresh!

The door flew open. “Ah! What are you doing!, ”Ray starred in horror. With my mouth still attached to the tube, my eyes turned to him as I still sucked at the toothpaste. Ray retrieved it from my mouth and set it aside. “Your not suppose to eat it!” He shouted, scaring the wits out of me, but I was used to people yelling at me all the time. Aw...then what's the point of toothpaste being minty good and not being able to eat it?

“Why?” I asked innocently and confused.

“Because it's not good for you,” he explained.

“But it tastes good,” I protested.

“Well, it’s deathly,” he continued to explain. Hm…if it were deathly…would it be possible to…

“Ow!” I whined, clutching my stomach. “My stomach hurts.” I turned around to the toilet to throw up. Ew!

“Oh God!” Ray hesitated, not knowing what to do. He stepped forward to see if he could help, but I extended my arm and gave him the Stop sign. He backed-off and I stood up from the toilet like nothing happened. “Well, you better brush your teeth again." He suggested, and added just before he shut the door again, “And don’t eat the toothpaste again! Understand?”

Nodding my head, he left me alone in the bathroom. Locking the door this time I brushed my teeth and just before I had bent down to spit the toothpaste foam, the bus rocked and caused Frank’s toothbrush fly right into the toilet—and I hadn’t flushed the puke in it yet…

I stared at it, deep beneath the puke. Wow... This shall be interesting. Searching between the cabinets I found nothing useful to take it out.

Knock, knock, knock went the door.

Uh, oh. I quickly closed all the cabinets and the toilet seat quietly and opened the door. Bob stood over the door frame as I blurred out, “Do you have something to—oh man!” I took his hand to pull him in, shutting the door desperately as my body formed an X to blocked the door so he wouldn’t escape.

“What the hell, Jad? What’s wrong? Did you take some crack this morning?” he demanded. Curtly in my head I said no, Bob, I ate toothpaste. Does that give you a clue?

I gestured to him in hesitation: I acted out hurling. I pointed at toilet. My hands hitting each other and pulled away quickly. I held my hand out for “stop.” I pointed to my eyes and then to the toilet.

His reactions for my poor sign-language were: He stared at me like if I was a complete Freak Show. He stared at toilet for a second. “What?” He questioned puzzled. One eyebrow went up and the other pulled down for The Face Of Confusion. “What!” He demanded in frustration.

“Ugh!” I reflected his tone of frustration. “Look in the toilet all the way to the bottom!” I pointed.

“Oh...So that’s what you were saying!” He slapped himself on the forehead. “You should have said that first.”

Before I could warn him about the puke, he was all “Ugh...Gross!”

Reaching for the handle to flush it all away, I cried out, “Don’t!”

“What? Are you saving it for someone?” He was asked sarcastically.

Let’s see, how do I say this…oh, right! “Look in deeper.”

“What’s is it? Is that—Frank’s toothbrush!” he observed in fascination.

“I need something to take it out.”

“This is serious then. Hold up, let me go get a plastic fork."

Making sure Frank didn’t come near the restroom while Bob fished in the kitchen cabinets, I stayed by the door biting hard on my knuckles. When he came back this to take out the toothbrush, this gave me the impression that its happened before since it looked like he did this effortlessly…not that I dare to ask that. He dumped the brush into the sink to flushed it clean from the puke while I flushed to toilet. Luckily the restroom didn’t smell that bad. Bob had opened the window by the shower and most of the smell drained out. Good thing we were on the road or else the stink would circulate around the little compartment and around the bus.

“Thanks Bob.” I worshiped leaning by the toilet again, but before he could say anything he slammed the door in disgust as puke came out again.

After a few hurls, I came out with hair allover my head like a nest, lips as pale as blank paper, pink circles around my eyes, and feeling cold. Sitting across from Mikey while he ate some cereal with coffee replacing milk, he looked up and asked, “What the hell happened to you?”
“Long story.”

Gerard looked up from his bowl of coffee cereal. “Ray told me you were eating…toothpaste.”

My spirits raised, “Oh yeah, it was good! But I think I’m sick now.”

They nodded in agreement. “Who would eat toothpaste?” Mikey asked, obviously forgetting my presence...

“Apparently me!” I reminded, placing my aching head over the table. “I don’t feel so good. And there was this accident in the restroom and Bob helped and I don’t think I could tell you because it's embarrassing and really gross.”

Bob stepped in, “Jaddus dumped Frank’s toothbrush in the toilet full puke.”

To my defense, I clarified “ I never ‘dumped’ it!”

"Damn you Bob! I'm eating here!" Mikey dumped his spoon back into the bowl in disgust. Everyone ignored him.

“Damn! And Frank didn’t even brush his teeth yet! Wait, Frank!” Gerard cried when he saw him enter the restroom. Uh-oh. This isn’t good. All three of them ran over to the restroom to pound at the door.

“Hey it's occupied!” Frank's muffled voice shouted over the door.

“Frank! Open the Goddamn door! Don’t use your toothbrush!” They all cried the same thing like birds.

The door unlocked after a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”

“Did you clean your mouth?” asked Mikey.

“Yeah. Why? Does it smell refreshing?” he huffed his breath over Mikey, who wrenched his nose and turned away. “Don’t do that! Get away!” Mikey complained as the thought of vomit allover Frank's teeth came to his mind. He sat back at the table to breath deeply.

The rest of them were throwing their hands in the air like ‘Whatever. It's too late now.’

Silence followed after the commotion, leaving Frank confused for a good damn while until he shrugged it off and dodged into the bunk room.

“Wow. Should I tell him what I did?” I asked them. They laughed; such humor these people carried among themselves. Seriously! I have never seen such joyful people. I kept quiet and refused to eat anything in fear of throwing up some more. I looked out the window to see a sign that said Welcome To Las Vegas.

“Okay you guys we’re here so get ready!” shouted Charles from the front of the bus.

After that call, it was all busy here and busy there. I stayed in Mikey’s bunk for the remainder of the ride to wherever it was these people were heading.

Coughing came from my throat once in a while. Probably because of yesterday’s rain, I thought, it should go away.

But it didn’t. My corpse grew colder and my lips were so chapped I thought they’d fall off like dead leaves in autumn. But I ignored these symptoms to get up and be present at the table.

They were all ready to jump off the bus whenever they were called to get off. Frank looked at me as I half-smiled at him and sat.

“Want some cereal now?” he asked. I nodded and remembered my manners, “Yes please.” He served me so quickly, that I felt awkward after that moment. Nobody has ever served me before...

“Thanks.” I said and began eating like a dog again.

“Boo!” Frank shouted when he sat next to me. Startled as I was, I almost spilled. They were all gathered at the tabled talking about whatever they where talking about. I was paying more attention to be careful not to spill if there was a bump coming up on the road. , The only words that pricked my ears when I heard part of there conversation was "We'll have to talk to our manager... we'll be at the concert...and the show...interview’....what songs should go first? Should we play...record company..."

“Are you guys in an band or something?” The guess had traveled from my brain cells to wave out my mouth. I remembered the booming music from the night before.

Frankie turned to shine his "clean" teeth at me, which caused stiffness in my bones. “Yup!” How disgusting! Poor Franklin…and no one told him about what I’d done…and I was afraid what he'd do to me if I told him...oh well.

“What’s it called?” I asked.

“My Chemical Romance,” Bob answered before Frank could. “MCR or My Chem for short .”

“That’s really unique!” I admired.

“Thanks,” Mikey bowed to me while still in his seat.

Ray said, “This dude came up with the name. He first thought of naming the band The New London Fire, but there’s already a band with that name, so we stuck with My Chemical Romance,” he filled in the details.

“Well…I don’t like to brag, but without me this band is nothing!” Mikey bragged. He leaned back, hands behind his head as he smiled with closed eyes.
Bob slapped Mikey’s arm with the back of his. “Share some credit man! Don’t be selfish.”

“Ow! Okay, okay. And also Bob,” Mikey restated, rubbing his arm as leaned over to whisper at me, “but we all know it's Bass Player Mikey Way.”

“What the—Mikey! You selfish crap! You forgot about me!” Frank shouted when he hadn’t heard what Mikey whispered to me—but when the whispered words reached his ear, Frank folded his arms over his chest with his chin in the air to accused, “I heard you Michael!” Frank whispered in my ear, “He hardly moves when he's on stage!"

“Fine, fine. All credit goes to Pansy and Frank Iero.” Mikey rolled his eyes but kept his good humor. “That make you happy, Fra—”

“Aw! Thank you so much Mikey! I love you more than a moment ago,” Frank cut in, his hands at his chest right over his heart.

“Guys, don’t quit it” Gerard said over his mug of coffee.

I’m telling you Daemon; these people are humorous and fun to be with! But to know how long this will all last…

“So what genre of music do you play?” I asked, finished sipping the milk.

“Rock and around there,” Bob answered.

“Cool! You guys must be great rock stars; to people who listen to you music, you guys must be their heroes,” I guesstimated to form a compliment.

“That’s our goal, actually. To save lives with our music,” Gerard said. For once his lips weren’t attached to that mug of coffee. "We know we won't physically be there to save someone's life, but we save their life when they listen and learn from the lyrics to motivate them to keep on living.

“Haven’t you heard of us?” Ray asked. They all waited for my response.

I panicked. If I said yes then they’d have expected me to know who they were in the first place, but if I said no then it would be shameful. Instead I came up with the truth. “I don’t really know much about music.”

“Oh,” Ray said quietly.

“Well,” Gerard clapped his hands together, “everybody knows today’s routine?”

“Yea, go to the interview, then the photo shoot for the magazine, then eat and rest and after that we go into rehearsal, get ready and perform." They all recited this like programmed-robots.

“Wow, you all remembered!” Gerard cheered almost sarcastically. "You guys now qualify to wake me up when we’re there!” He got up to head off to the bunk room. I rushed into the restroom. Damn I threw up the cereal. Ugh!

Flushing the toilet, I sat on the floor and when I turned there was a little opening behind the sink at the bottom. Hm…what's that? I thought when I saw a piece of plastic there. Before I could fetch it out a knock was at the door and more puke came out and into the toilet . Bob looked at me disgust, almost wanting to throw up himself. He came close to me; I didn’t stop him this time. What a cool hand he had. It felt so fresh against my warm head. “Your building up a fever." He said and left as I made way to Mikey’s bunk. Sleep was all I needed.

When I woke up, ice bags were surrounding my limbs and head. I felt faint but noticed Gerard wearing his nice performance uniform as he put his boots on. He was so gorgeous, but who was I to say that? Before I could speak, he shoved a glass-like stick in my mouth with lines and numbers imprinted on it.

“Keep it under your tongue and try not to move it." He went back to tying his shoes across from me. This confused me.

From the side of my mouth I asked him. “What happened? What is this? Why are there ice bags around me? I’m I contagious like the people who have HIV or AIDS! Do I have that!? Ah!”

He laughed at my Freak-Out Moment. “No, you don’t have any of those as far as I know. Do you?”

“I don’t think so. I've never gone to that place people call a hospital.”

“Well, you just have a fever." He explained calmly. Fever! No! Wait, what’s that? Is that contagious, too!

“What’s a fever?” I asked him, terrified at the request of its answer.

“Some illness—,” before he could say any further, I shouted, “Ah! I’m going to die!!!”

“No, your not,” he reassure, “You’ll get better as long as you follow Charles’s orders.”

And guess who came in this precise moment?

“Ah-ha! Now open your mouth!” Charles came in with a spoon and bottles of some weird pink and purple liquids. In he popped the spoon with the pink stuff. It’s more like Ugh-stuff 'cause it tasted weird and nasty I made a face. To my reward for making a face, I had to swallow another spoonful, except this one came from the other bottle and tasted rather good—like grapes!

“We’ll see you at about five or six in the afternoon.” Gerard got up starting for the door. “Get better and listen to Charles.” He added with a smile even though his tone was serious. It was more of an demand than a Hope-you-get-better” kind of thing.

“Yes, Gerard,” I lazily answered when he went out the door .

“So you better get to resting if you want to get any better," Charles suggested when Gerard was heard out of the bus along with everyone else. “I don’t think you’ll be throwing up anything since you've probably taken all of the food the food you've eaten already.”

He left me to rest, however I didn’t feel tired.

I wonder what Manuel and Susan were doing now? Had they managed to escape while they were chasing me?

My eyes were beginning to dose a trance of sleep for they were being soothed by the liquids that flowed into my helpless corpse.

And what would happen if Gerard had suspected my darkest secret…what would I do if my Daemon wasn't right about him and he told the authorities?