The World I Know

Monday morning found me miserable and exhausted. My throat throbbed dully, despite all the efforts my mother had gone through to eliminate the pain – long sessions in the sauna, forcing me to drink my body weight in water, salt-water gargles three or four times a day, and sampling of every type of tea known to man. Still, my throat hurt and my mother finally declared that I would just have to push through it.

After enduring an agonizing band practice last night, supervised by my mother, it hurt particularly bad. I avoided using my voice as I got ready, dressing in a gray plaid skirt and white collared blouse. Once I’d gotten my school things together, I headed downstairs to find the family assembled at the table.

Dad was swirling a glass full of red liquid that was most likely a Bloody Mary – hair of the dog, if you will. He was still wearing his robe and slippers – since wedding music was his primary job, he probably wouldn’t even bother getting dressed today unless my mom decided to drag him to a planning meeting.

Mom was dressed in a crisp, blue suit, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was on the phone, probably talking to one of the vendors for the upcoming Williamson wedding. It was promised to be the biggest wedding of the year – they’d even talked about taking it to Italy for a more romantic venue. I was dreading it – my mother was already talking about all the different ways she could use me for the event. There was mention of a cabaret-style rehearsal dinner, most likely featuring me singing classic songs in a silk evening gown all night.

Frank, the lead guitarist for the wedding band and my dad’s younger brother, was sitting at one of the long sides of the table, engrossed in the morning news. He’d lived with us for over a year now, sponging off my parents and always making inappropriate comments about my appearance. I’d mentioned this to my mom a few times, but she always told me I was being silly.

I took my usual place across from Frank, studying the morning selection – today the cook had prepared a large quiche Lorraine, plain oatmeal, and yogurt with a selection of toppings. I helped myself to a small bowl of yogurt with blueberries and almond slivers, knowing I’d be scolded if I went for the quiche – I needed to keep my figure, after all, and the quiche (made up of eggs, bacon, and ham) was too unhealthy for that.

“No, no, no!” my mother exclaimed suddenly, making everyone jump. My father groaned and lay his head on the table, cradling it in his arms as he did so. Mom was on her feet, waving her free hand around wildly. “No, Alex, I said we need stargazer lilies, not tiger lilies! How could you get this wrong? It was so simple! Do you realize you’ve just taken over my entire day? No...no, it’s too late to cancel the order. We’ll have to meet with the Williamsons immediately... No, you made the mistake, so you can call them!”

“Honey, please,” moaned Dad.

Mom ignored him, continuing, “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll have to go straight to the florist, just as soon as I find someone else to drive Harmony to school. I swear, Alex, I am this close to being done with you.”

She snapped her phone shut, quickly flipping open her planner and making notes. I continued to slowly eat my yogurt, waiting for my name to be brought up. My spoon had just started to scrape the bottom of the bowl when she looked up and said, “Howard? Howard!”

My dad, who had been starting to snore, shot up in his seat. “Huh?”

“I need you to drive Harmony to school.”

“But, dear—”

“Don’t start with me,” she said stiffly. “If your head hurts, it’s your own fault. Now go get dressed.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Half an hour later, I was in the car with my father, pulling up to the private high school I attended. My throat was hurting worse than ever, as my mother had ordered us to go over our vocal exercises on the way – we’d spent the ride belting out our scales and arpeggios.

“Have a good day and all that,” my dad said as I pulled my bookbag onto my shoulders.

“Good luck with Mom,” I returned, opening the door and stepping out of the car. He peeled away from the curb the instant the door was closed, probably rushing home so he could sleep off what was left of his hangover. Shaking my head, I trudged up the steps to the school.

The rest of the morning passed without incident. The semester had just started, so I was still getting the hang of where my classrooms were. My AP English, Advanced Calculus, AP Government, and College Prep classes passed by slowly and I was expecting nothing different from my Honors French class.

However, as I approached the classroom, I found Madam Swanson taping a piece of paper to the door.

“Oh, hello, Miss Grayson,” she said as I approached. “I’m sorry, but it looks like the class is cancelled.”

“What happened?” I asked, heart beginning to thump heavily in my chest.

“Not enough students signed up. You can apply for another elective at the office, or you can use this as a free period.”

“I already have a free period.”

“You’re allowed more than one,” she said with a laugh. “I thought all seniors knew that.”

“No, I didn’t. Well...I guess I’ll just go do some studying.”

“Alright, Miss Grayson.”

Two free periods, wow. What was I going to do for the next two hours before I had to go catch the bus over to the local community college, where I had a four o’clock Biology class. I had just stopped at my locker when it occurred to me – I didn’t have to stay here. I had two hours of complete freedom, with absolutely no supervision. It felt strange and oddly exhilarating.

Where was I going to go?

My mind suddenly made up, I squared my shoulders and marched out of school. I caught the first bus at the corner of the road and stayed on it until it reached the Wimberley Park stop. The park was a hot spot around here – half of it was trees and grass, which then gave way to a strip of crowded beach. Even though the day was overcast, the beach was crowded with families and couples, enjoying the patchy sunlight. People lounged around the park, some playing Frisbee, others just lying in the grass and conversing.

There was an empty picnic table near the middle of the park and I made a beeline for it, setting down my bag and taking a moment to just enjoy my newfound freedom. A nagging voice in the back of my head begged me to go back to school – what if someone noticed my absence and called my mom? But that was crazy – I had a free period, after all, and there was no rule saying students had to stay on campus during their free period.

Once I’d had my fill of the fresh air, I pulled out my sketchpad. This was probably the only secret I had from my parents – they had expressly forbidden me to waste my time with anything other than school or music. But my sketchpad was my favorite possession. Its pages were full of sketches splashed with watercolor, mostly of my favorite wedding scenes. The one I’d been working on most recently was of a bride and her daughter, who had been a flower girl. In the drawing, the little girl was clinging to her mother’s train and looking back at me. Last Friday, during my free period, I’d finished the outlines in pencil and begun the painting. A splash of green made up the background, a mix of light gray and yellow was used for the shading on the dresses, and a dark peach gave the bride her lovely tan.

Now that the paint was dry and I had some alone time, I pulled out my pens and began to finish the final outlines. I hadn’t been working very long when a voice called out, “Hey, Harmonica!”

My head shot up, quickly looking around for the source of the familiar voice. Matt was standing by the road, waving at me. One of his wedding-going friends was next to him, holding a red, plastic container in one hand. They began to make their way over to me and I quickly flipped my sketchbook closed.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked when they were close enough.

“Just passing by,” said Matt. “It’s a free park, isn’t it?”

“Right,” I said, cheeks starting to tingle. Seeing him brought everything from the wedding back to me, especially that part right at the end...

“Yeah, Matt saw you and insisted we come talk to you,” sighed his friend – although he was smiling as he spoke.

“Sorry, I can’t quite remember your name,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t be offended.

“Zacky,” he said, offering me his hand to shake. “Zacky Vengeance.”

I took his hand, noticing the sheer number of tattoos on his skin, and repeated, “Vengeance?”

“Stage name,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the table. The action made his arms bulge, appearing quite muscular beneath all the colorful tattoos. “We’re in a band.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What kind of music do you play?”

“Metal.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip, not sure what to say to that. Metal was wildly outside the range of music I was allowed to listen to.

“It’s probably not the type of music you’re used to,” Matt said thoughtfully. “Do you sing anything other than your wedding stuff?”

“Not really,” I said, shaking my head. “I listen to some classic rock, but not a lot. I don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“Weddings keep you busy?” asked Zacky.

“Weddings, school, rehearsals, homework...”

“Yikes. School. High or college?”

“Both, actually. I’m a senior at Ridgecrest and I take a couple of classes at the local community college.”

Matt whistled. “Good for you. I barely made it to graduation.”

“You must be really smart,” Zacky added.

“I’m just average,” I said, feeling the blush deepen. “I’m sure you’re both smarter than me.”

“Well, I’m smarter than him, that’s for sure,” said Matt, elbowing Zacky playfully.

“Fuck off,” Zack retorted, not noticing my cringe, “I’m the smartest. Ask me anything, I can answer if faster.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m sure you’re both equally smart,” I said diplomatically.

“Oh, no, she’s one of those people!” Zack exclaimed.

“What people?” I demanded.

“Peace-makers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Nah, baby. The world needs more bad girls.”

“Oh. Well, um...”

“See, you made her uncomfortable,” Matt scolded, smacking Zacky in the back of the head.

“Fuck! That hurt, dickwad.”

“Get over it, precious.”

“So, what brings you guys here?” I cut in, trying to assuage the bickering.

“Well, some dumbass forgot to put gas in my car after he ran it out and—”

“That is not what happened!” Zack protested, poking Matt’s chest. He turned to me and said earnestly, “He’s full of shit. See, what really happened...”

And he was off, recounting a rather thrilling tale of having to drive out to pick up someone named Johnny, who had apparently been too drunk to drive home himself, and of how he’d asked Johnny if the gas tank was empty or not. Which, of course, made no sense and prompted Matt to go on a tangent about what was apparently a long history of Zack borrowing his car and running out all the gas.

I was actually enjoying listening to the stories, allowing myself to laugh as each story became more and more ridiculous. They were trading off on a story about a friend’s birthday party, Matt being the one talking at that particular moment, when my mind started to wander back to the wedding. Matt was sitting across from me, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, and I found myself gazing intently at the tattoos along his arms. They were mostly grayscale, with light colors woven in. My eyes trailed along his arm, pausing at the simple watch on his wrist. I squinted at it, suddenly remembering—

“Oh, I have to go!” I exclaimed, jumping up. “The bus leaves at three-thirty! I’m going to miss it!” My throat throbbed painfully and I reminded myself to speak softly.

“You take the bus?” Matt asked, looking toward the road. “That sucks. Why don’t you let me drive you?”

“I thought you were out of gas?” Zacky cleared his throat, holding up the red container and shaking it. Whatever was inside sloshed around noisily. “Oh. Oh, well...alright.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” said Zacky sarcastically.

After gathering my things and hastily stowing them in my bag, I fell in step between them, heading back toward the road. I was a little nervous about getting into the car with a couple of almost-strangers, but if they’d wanted to kidnap me or something they could have done that when they first approached me, right?

Matt’s car, as it turns out, was a black SUV. Zacky put in the gas while Matt opened the passenger door, gesturing for me to get in.

“I can sit in the back,” I said quickly.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Zacky, not looking up from the gas tank. “Pretty girls get shotgun.”

Not sure whether to be insulted or not, I slid into the passenger seat and let Matt close the door for me. Once he was in the driver’s seat and Zacky had climbed in the back, he put the car in gear and eased out of the parking spot.

“So, hey,” Zacky said, leaning between the seats so he was practically in the front with us, “I’m just wondering, what’s with the naughty schoolgirl outfit? I didn’t think any of the schools around here did the uniform thing.”

“They don’t,” I replied, feeling the blush creeping back. “My, um, mother does most of the shopping. I need to look professional at all times.”

“Professional,” Matt repeated, glancing over at my skirt. Self-conscious, I tugged at the hem of it to make it cover my knees. “But doesn’t it make you kind of stand out at school? I mean, high school kids are fucking assholes.”

“No one really says anything,” I said casually, leaving out the fact that no one really said anything to me ever.

“Hey, turn it up,” said Zacky suddenly. “I love this song.”

The music Matt turned up was shrieking guitars, screaming vocals, and rapid drum beats. I could barely understand anything being said and had to work hard to follow the melody. It kept me occupied as Matt and Zacky had a loud conversation over the music.

By the time we pulled up to the college, I was thoroughly deafened. Matt was grinning at me as he turned the music down. My ears rang in the silence.

“So what’d you think?” he asked.

“Um...” He and Zacky began to laugh – apparently my expression said it all. I allowed myself a small smile. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” said Matt.

“Yeah, it was nice talking to you,” added Zacky as I climbed carefully out of the car.

“Or at you, really,” Matt amended. “Hey, we’re having a small pool party Friday night, if you wanna come.”

I paused, one hand on the car door. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t,” said Zacky. “Wouldn’t want to upset Mommy, right?”

Frowning, I said, “No, I just don’t want to...to...”

As I sat there, looking in at Matt’s hopeful expression and Zacky’s cocky one. His arrogance made something in me feel hot and upset, like I was... Angry, I realized. The moment I realized what it was, I found it irrepressible and said hotly, “I’d love to. What time is it?”

“We’re getting there around four,” said Matt, visibly more excited.

I bit my lip. I’d have to skip my Biology class...but I couldn’t back down now. “Okay. Could someone pick me up at the high school? I don’t have a car or anything.”

“Sure. So we’ll see you Friday around...three?”

“Sounds good.” That way I could use the free periods to mentally prepare myself.

“Awesome,” Matt beamed. “We’ll see you there!”

“See you then,” I replied, closing the car door and heading toward the front steps. Matt didn’t pull away until I’d reached the doors – I turned and waved as he and Zacky drove away.

What in the world had I gotten myself into?

Notes

Thanks to Avengedlover, Rach Hell, and Hollie for commenting! :D