The World I Know

It was Friday morning, and I had still made no attempt to clear my schedule for the party tonight. There was no way I could tell my mom where I was really going, but I also wasn’t sure what she would let me do. My safest bet seemed to be telling her I had something to do after school and wouldn’t be home until late. Something academic.

Breakfast was as quiet as usual. Dad had left early to meet with someone about a vintage guitar. Frank was still asleep upstairs, leaving only my mother and I to occupy the table. I sat at one of the wide sides of the table, pushing the last few bites of my oatmeal around in the bowl. Mom sat to my left, ignoring her breakfast entirely as she typed away on her phone.

“Um, Mom?” I began. My throat was still sore, and the words came out sounding something like a croak.

She continued to type on her phone as she said, “Yes, dear?”

“I, uh...I needed to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

I hesitated, looking back down at my bowl as I tried to find the right words. “Mercy and I...we have a project we’ve been working on.”

“A project?” Mom repeated, finally looking up from her phone. “For what class?”

Mercy and I had only our Biology class together, so I said, “Biology. Our topic is genetics.”

“That’s a rather broad topic.”

“We focused on, um, recessive genes versus dominant genes. We’re bringing in pictures of our family to compare what genes we inherited.”

“What picture did you bring of me?” she asked sharply. “Because if I’m not properly depicted—”

“That’s why I brought it up,” I said quickly. My heart was pounding, but I kept on, “I thought maybe you’d like to choose what picture I used?”

Her face lit up, making her look about five years younger. “Absolutely! How about that darling picture of your father and I that’s hanging by the stairs? That’s a lovely picture of us both.”

“That’s perfect,” I agreed. “I’ll go get it.”

“I’d prefer you make a copy to take. It’s quite an irreplaceable photo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without waiting to be excused, I hurried out of the dining room to retrieve the photo. It was one of the few pictures in the house that had only two occupants. Most others were either posed shorts of one or all three of us. This was my parents’ engagement photo. They had been in their early twenties, both still wrinkle-free and dark-haired. My father was looking blissfully down at his new fiancée; my mother was looking at the camera, her lips pulled up into the same practiced smile she wore in all her publicity photos.

I went into the office to make a copy, then returned the photo to its original spot. Mom stepped into the foyer just as I was descending the stairs, already dressed in her pure-white overcoat and favorite pair of Gucci sunglasses.

“Just in time, darling,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s nearly seven-fifteen.”

She led the way out of the house and down the driveway to where her glossy Cadillac was parked. I didn’t broach the subject of the project again until she turned onto the road where the school was. Then I said, trying to sound casual, “Oh, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“There’s actually a presentation of the project. It doesn’t start until halfway through class, so I don’t know when we’ll be done.”

“What about rehearsal?” she asked instantly. “You know we have them every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday.”

“I could practice tomorrow,” I suggested. “We have the tracks. I could just practice on my own.”

“We have the Perez wedding tomorrow evening.”

“I could practice in the morning.”

Her ruby-red lips pursed as she thought this over. Finally, she said, “Your Biology class begins at four o’clock?”

“Yes. We’d start our projects at five-thirty or six.”

“And how many projects are there?”

“Well...there’s thirty-two of us in class...so about fourteen or sixteen projects. I think a few people did groups of three or four.”

“That could take hours,” Mom said disapprovingly. “How will you get home? Because I don’t enjoy the idea of sitting outside that school simply waiting for you to be done.”

I thought about that for a moment, trying to seem breezy about the whole thing. “I guess Mercy could drive me home. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. If the class took too long, I could even stay the night. Her father enjoys when I stay over.”

I mentally congratulated myself as I saw the smile fighting its way onto my mother’s face – Mercy’s dad was a local celebrity, a record producer. As it was mom’s dearest ambition to get a deal for us to record a wedding album, she lived in constant hope that Mercy’s father would take a liking to me.

“That sounds reasonable,” she said as we pulled into the drop-off line in front of the school. “Why don’t you stay the night there and practice your songs there, too? Mr. Maverick’s sound system is sure to be much better equipped than ours.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better,” she said sternly, glancing over at me. “I do not want to be embarrassed.”

“You won’t be, Mom.”

“Very good. Have a lovely time at school.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, opening the door and stepping out. As soon as the door closed, she pulled forward, cutting off the Mazda that had been trying to pull out ahead of her. With a sigh, I turned and headed toward the school, unable to believe my luck.

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As soon as my College Prep class let out, I hurried to catch the bus that would take me to the mall. I was slightly overwhelmed by it – I’d never been to the mall. My mother always took us into L.A. to shop and took me only into specific, Mom-approved stores. But now, in the local mall, I wandered past stores like Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, and American Eagle.

I wandered into a store called JC Penney and made my way toward the swimwear. On the way, I passed the teen section and paused. A dress was hanging at the front of a display, blue on the bottom and white with blue stripes on the top. I only had nineteen dollars, but certain something like that would look less ridiculous to Matt and his friends than my school-girl ensemble...?

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Nervous wasn’t strong enough a word to describe how I was feeling as I stood outside my school, hands wringing the straps of my backpack. I was still in my school clothes – I’d chosen a swimsuit over the dress. To my horror, there had been absolutely no one-pieces, so I was now wearing an aqua-blue bikini beneath my clothes, somewhat praying no one would actually expect me to get into the pool.

Matt’s car, when it finally pulled up, was quite full. Matt was behind the wheel, Zacky in the front seat, and an unfamiliar man in the backseat. Before Zacky could get out of the car, I opened the back door and sat quickly in the backseat.

“I was gonna give you the front,” Zacky protested.

“I’m fine,” I replied, buckling my seatbelt and glancing over at the other occupant. He was wearing a black button-up shirt open to reveal a tattooed chest and black jeans with a chain hanging from the belt. When he turned to look at me, a glimmer of metal winked from the left side of his nose.

“Hey,” he said, offering me a hand. “Johnny.”

“Harmony,” I said, hesitating before reaching out to take his hand. It wasn’t much bigger than mine – maybe he was just suffering by comparison to his rather large friends, though. We didn’t really shake – it was more like we just grasped hands for a moment. His eyes were a similar hazel to Matt’s as the roved over my face, studying me. Feeling flushed, I gave my hand a gentle tug and he quickly let go. He ran his hand through his jet-black hair as he chuckled nervously. The motion finally made me understand his haircut, which had been perplexing me – when product was added, it would be a mohawk.

“We call him Shortshit,” boomed Matt from the front seat. His voice was especially loud in the enclosed space.

“Or Little Perv,” added Zacky.

“Hey, fuck you guys,” Johnny said, turning his eyes toward the front seat. Which was quite the relief, since the way he’d been looking at me had left me feeling rather breathless.

“How far away are we going?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from a potential argument.

“Not very,” said Matt. “Michelle’s place is right on the beach.”

“Why do you call it Michelle’s?” Zack asked, sounding annoyed. “Syn paid for it.”

“But the girls run it. Brian would turn it into a total disaster.”

I leaned forward to hear the conversation better, but quickly leaned back when the motion caused my knee to brush Johnny’s. He glanced over at me, but didn’t seem to notice the interaction like I did. Maybe Zacky was right and I did need to relax.

“So now it’s Michelle and Val’s?”

“No, but Val does help out a lot.”

“When she’s not bitching,” Johnny added.

“Hey, lighten up,” said Matt sharply. “She’s going through a lot right now.”

“Are you dating Val?” I asked.

Zack guffawed and Johnny shook his head before thumping it against the headrest. “Here we go,” he muttered.

“Val and I were a couple,” said Matt sadly. “But we just wanted different things. She needed commitment I couldn’t give her. I was completely justified, too, she wanted to move too fast and we just...we weren’t suited for each other.”

“Oh.”

“For example—”

“Not again,” Johnny groaned. He leaned close to me and whispered, “Shut him up now, or we’ll die listening to him bitch.”

Trying not shudder from Johnny’s warm breath in my ear, I quickly said, “I understand. People need to get along a certain way. My parents get along well because they both love music. I get along with you guys because...because...”

“Because we’re sexy beasts?” Zack suggested, flexing his arms. “Impeccably talented? Unbelievably good-looking?”

“You used good-looking twice, fuckwad,” said Johnny, poking Zack in the ribs, making him drop his arms.

“I used good-looking and sexy. They’re different.”

“How?”

“Good-looking is looks. Sexy is behavior.”

“I get what he’s saying,” Matt agreed. “A girl can be good-looking but not sexy. Like, um...”

“Kirsten Dunst,” suggested Zacky. “She’s cute but not really sexy.”

“So a woman can be sexy but not cute?” Johnny asked.

“No. Pretty much all women are cute in the right circumstances.”

“Fuck off, there are plenty of not-cute girls,” said Zacky. “You guys aren’t thinking about normal women. Celebrities are good-looking as a rule.”

“Explain Clint Eastwood, then.”

“He used to be attractive,” I pointed out.

Zacky twisted around in his seat to look incredulously at me. “Your crazy mom let you watch Clint Eastwood movies?”

“My dad watches them,” I said, blushing and looking down at my lap.

“You’d have to live under a rock to not know what Clint Eastwood looks like, fucktard,” said Johnny, reaching out and shoving Zacky’s face back into the front seat.

Zacky retaliated by throwing himself over the center console and attempting to strangle Johnny. I had to press myself against the door to escape Zacky’s flailing elbows and Johnny’s kicking feet.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Matt shouted, swatting blindly at Zacky while keeping his eyes on the road. The car swerved slightly as he risked a quick look into the backseat to adjust his aim.

“This is how I die,” I muttered. “This is what I get for lying to my mom.”

At that moment, Matt got a grip on the back of Zacky’s shirt and easily drug him back into the front seat. Johnny collapsed backward in his seat, panting heavily. His neck was red and his shirt open even further than before – one of the buttons seemed to have popped off.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he spat. “You can’t take me.”

“Just wait until Matt’s not around, Shortshit,” Zacky retaliated. His cheek was turning red where Johnny must have hit him during the scuffle.

“No one’s taking anyone,” said Matt sternly. “You’re freaking out Harmony.”

“I’m fine,” I said faintly.

“See? You’ve scared her. She’s probably going to slip away as soon as we get to Michelle’s.”

“She won’t get far. We have the car keys.”

“This is sounding more and more like a kidnap,” I pointed out.

“Hey, you’re living the ultimate fangirl fantasy,” said Zacky. “We’re celebrities. You’re the luckiest bitch in the world.”

I was spared having to respond to that by Johnny saying, “Home sweet home.”

“We’re here!” Matt sang.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and took a second to mentally prepare myself. This was going to be fun. Awkward, yes. But fun, too. The guys were all nice enough. There was no reason for me to be worried.

I opened my eyes and looked out to see what was awaiting me.

Notes