Chapter 17

Darryl Nelson

Smit had told absolutely everyone he knew about our first gig as Methods of Dissent, but I still only expected a handful of people to turn out. The shitty venue was packed, and I recognized more than half the people there, including my folks, AJ, George…and Stevie.

When I spotted her and her friend, who Smit was practically salivating over, I wanted to put the weird feeling in my stomach down to nerves, or alcohol, but it was excitement at the thought of Stevie watching me perform.

I loved live music—I practically grew up on the stage, ears protected by noise-canceling headphones while I watched my mom’s band play all over the world—but Stevie had never seen me actually play with a full band.

Sure, she’d seen me banging my tubs on my own in the garage when I was a kid, but I was worlds away from where I was back then. Smit and Evan were on fire. I felt like I was fucking flying; my arms moved seamlessly, without me needing to overthink my motion.

My voice exploded out of my chest as a visceral roar, contrasting Smit’s more traditional vocals perfectly. All too quickly it was over, and I felt like I was already jonesing for my next fix—I’d forgotten what a rush it was to perform.

Wiping a towel over my sweaty forehead, I made my way to the booth my folks were occupying, Smit and Evan trailing behind me, and quickly found myself enveloped in my dad’s patented bear hug.

“That was fucking amazing, Darryl!”

“Yeah, you guys could give Ashes Within a run for their money,” AJ chuckled as my mom hit him in the stomach with the back of his hand, and I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Darryl,” my mom’s eyes were wet, and I threw an arm over her shoulders, hugging her into my side, feeling a little like it felt in the old days when they would come watch my old band play.

“You were so good, baby.”

“Yeah…well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?” She sniffled a little, and I pressed a soft kiss to her temple before I realized I was doing it.

***

Lying in bed, listening to my mom puke her guts up while dying of cancer is not something I ever envisioned doing at eighteen years old. My dad murmured in the bathroom with her, encouraging her to drink some water which just started her throwing up again.

With a growl, I threw myself out of bed and shoved my feet into my battered Chucks and pulled a cleanish hoodie over my head. As I slid out of my bedroom, I paused as I found Vinnie lurking in the dark doorway to his room.

“What’s up, little bud?” I whispered.

“Is she going to be okay?” Even in the small amount of moonlight, I could see his big eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and my chest tightened.

“I don’t know, bud,” I shrugged. “We just have to hope she will be.” Vinnie sniffed, dropping his head. I sighed, putting my hand on his shoulder and pushing him gently back into his room.

He padded over to his bed, surreptitiously wiping his eyes as he climbed back under the cover, and I toed my sneakers back off, dropping my jeans and shucking my hoodie back over my head, settling on Vinnie’s Queen-sized bed next to him.

I picked up his TV remote and found some dumb cartoon, turning the volume up so it covered the sound of our parents down the hall.

I crossed my arms behind my head, bracing my head on my hands and waited for Vinnie’s sniffles to stop and his breathing to even out to the deep even breaths of sleep.

***

The last couple of weeks have been torture. My mom was struggling with the treatment and was starting to look like she was going through chemo with her silver hair starting to fall out. She was trying to cover it up with scarves and hats, but it was still fucking happening.

One day, I came home from school and found her standing in the bathroom with the clippers in her hand and her remaining hair all over the floor. That was the tipping point for me. Every day after school let out, I would hightail it to the park to get whatever I could off Hunter.

I was getting more and more fucked up hanging out with him and his never-ending supply of substances. And the more willing I was becoming to do whatever he wanted me to do in order to feed my growing addiction.

My fists were so split from pounding into other people without being wrapped or protected that the smallest movement of my hands usually resulted in them bleeding again.

More often than not after an afternoon and night full of debauchery, I would find myself being picked up from the driveway by Stevie.

She would tend my wounds while I pretended to be too fucked up to talk to her, and I would sneak out of her bed before she woke up. Some mornings I would meet AJ as he got himself ready for his morning run, but I would try my hardest to get out of their house before he got up.

My folks had never said anything to me, so I assumed that AJ had not told them I’d been sleeping in his daughter’s bed most nights. I hated that she saw me like that. That I was weak enough to need her help.

To accept her help. The darkness in my soul was being fed on all sides at the moment, what with my mom’s suffering and having to pretend all day long at school that I hadn’t spent the night being cleaned up and soothed by my former best friend.

I didn’t have many classes with Stevie, but the few I did, I drove myself crazy watching her. She had the perfect life, full of perfect friends.

Seriously, she was the typical popular cheerleader, the pull of her bright smile and shimmering hair entrancing kids from all the social pools at school. She seemed to be as relaxed talking to the freaks and geeks as she was conversing with the jocks. Like she was now.

The asshat who had been all over her at the house party a few weeks ago was all up in her space pretending to copy her notes, but I could see his eyes were glued more to the flash of cleavage she was exposing when she leaned forward, than her notebook.

Brodie glanced up and saw me glaring at him, leaning closer to Stevie and saying something which made her frown. From her body language as she replied, I think whatever he said pissed her off.

Brodie held his hands up in submission, his eyes sliding back down to her chest as soon as she looked away from him.

“Okay, guys!” Mr. Jenkins, our chem teacher clapped his hands together at the front of the classroom to get our attention. “This next project is going to make up fifty percent of your final grade, and just to make it a little easier on you all I’ve decided to let you work in pairs!”

He grinned over the excited hubbub of people grabbing their friends.

Brodie looked over at me, smirking and before I could stop myself, I strode over and inserted myself between him and Stevie, blocking his view down her shirt.

“Fuck off, football boy, and find someone else to carry you in this class, she’s mine.” I shot the dumb jock a smirk of my own, silently letting him know I was fully aware I was cockblocking him, and he rolled his eyes as he admitted defeat and walked away to find his own partner.

I dropped down into the chair next to her, trying to ignore the wave of patchouli which enveloped me, taking me right back to lying in bed with her asleep next to me. I crossed my arms, scowling deeply as she gave me a sideways glance.

“Do you want to set up, or should I?” Stevie asked, and I started flicking through dumb shit on my phone, not raising my eyes to meet hers, but I did give her a half-hearted shrug.

“O-kay. Well…once it’s set up, should I record the findings, or do you want me to do the experiment?”

I lifted my shoulder slightly again, still not looking in her direction making her huff exasperatedly, slamming her textbook shut and cursing under her breath which made me want to smile.

“After all the times I’ve scraped you up off your ass when you’re drunk, you could at least help me a little,” she finally snapped at me. My skin prickled with something akin to shame, but then the black beast which resides inside my head woke up.

“I never asked you to do fucking anything for me.” The words snarled out of me, and internally I kicked myself when I saw the hurt look on her face, but the snarling snapping beast whispered in my ear that I was right.

I never asked for her pity. For her help. Fuck this.

I pushed my chair back with a screech against the shitty lino floor, chucking my arm through the strap on my backpack and striding out of the classroom, ignoring the shout of Mr. Jenkins to come back.

My phone started ringing, and I glanced at the screen to see my dad’s name flash up.

“Dad? What’s up?”