“Girlies are going to love that.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. His dance back, but his eyes don’t light up like normal. He leans back against the wall, stretching his legs across the seat. I pull my phone from my sweats and place it on the table, keying up one of my playlists. I keep the volume low enough for just us, and we sit in silence listening until eventually, I crash.
6
TRAVIS
My eyes burn.Eyelids feel like they have ten-pound weights sitting on them. It takes effort to blink, and each time I do, I’m sure my eyeballs are going to explode.
I’m tired.
I carried the bottle of vodka to my bunk and drank until I passed out, then all the arguing woke me up somewhere around 6 a.m. After that, I gave up on sleep, opting to chill with Ellie, listening to music until she eventually passed out, too. I carried her to bed, then crawled back to my own and lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking thoughts I didn’t want.
I haven’t seen my parents in over two years. Weirdly, I’m starting to miss them. They never supported me being in a band. Never understood me, period. They were in their late forties when they had me, after trying for nearly ten years. Once I became a teenager with my own ideals and dreams that didn’t match theirs, they basically gave up. Not that they didn’t love me, because they do, in their own way. I think.
But they gave up trying to relate to me, realizing their son is nothing like either of them, and very well could’ve beenswitched at the hospital. They almost had the American dream. My dad’s a retired pharmacist and my mom an elementary school teacher. We had a decent house in a nice neighborhood. All they needed was a normal kid with normal aspirations.
I basically lived at Penn’s in high school. As soon as I graduated, they sold the house, bought me a smaller one, and retired to Florida. A parting gift, I guess.We love you, but don’t want to be near you.
They call once in a while to check in, but have never made an effort to ask about the band or even see me play a show. I’m a huge disappointment, and talking to them only reminds me of that. Reminds them that they failed as parents ’cause they couldn’t raise a normal, hardworking member of society.
They had one shot, and I fucked it up for them.
“You smell like piss, man, you need to shower.”
I peer down from my bunk and see Calvin standing there with his hands in the pockets of his perfectly pressed slacks and shirt, looking like someone ran an iron over him. He grates on my nerves. Always trying to toe the line between being our friend and being professional. Pick a lane and stay there.
I ignore him and go back to staring at the ceiling. My eyes won’t stay closed. They want to, but it feels like toothpicks are holding them open.
Calvin sighs heavily. “Look, I can help you stay awake if you want.”
Interest piqued, I roll over and lift a brow, waiting for him to elaborate, even though I already have a good idea of what he’s going to suggest.
He looks around nervously. “I can get some Adderall. It can be our little secret.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him.
I consider it. I would love to not be so goddamn tired, but I’d rather sleep.
“I’m good. Maybe get me some sleeping pills, though. Something at the drugstore, nothing crazy,” I tell him.
His lips form a tight line, and he nods before turning and walking away. Dude is fucking weird. The last thing I need to be doing is drugs. I’m already pushing my limits on alcohol intake. I thought it would help me pass out. Sometimes it does, but most of the time I fall into a restless fit of tossing and turning in this shoebox bed.
My mind is too busy. I need a way to shut it the hell up.
After a while, I drag myself off the bed and pull on some dark jeans and a black, bleach-stained shirt. I grab the gel from the small mirror cabinet and run it through my hair, pulling it up so it stands nice and tall. The once-blue tips are now barely visible, and I remember telling Ellie she could dye them pink. The sides are also starting to grow out; it’s no longer just skin visible.
Calvin’s in the main area, scrolling on his phone. The guys are already off the bus, probably inside the venue, waiting on me so we can start rehearsal. Ellie’s at the kitchen table, eating a protein bar, typing on her computer.
“While you’re at the drugstore, pick me up some pink hair dye. Brightest color they got.” Calvin looks up, and Ellie turns her head toward me, eyes sparkling like they do when she’s excited.
“Pink?” Calvin repeats.
“I’ll do it! He’ll just mess it up,” Ellie chimes in.
“How could I mess up pink hair dye?”
Her lips purse together. “You’d find a way.”
“I’m going out anyway,” he argues.
“Do what you must, but I’m getting that hair dye.”
