Havoc:Mayhem Series #4(34)

"Yeah. We were playing Deadzone last night, and-"

"You were playing with Mike?"

"We play all the time. But"-I can hear the frustration in my brother's voice-"can you just listen?"

"Yeah," I say, doing my best to be patient. "What?"

"So I forget how it came up, but he told me he broke up with Danica, and I was going to tell him he should go out with you-"

"You didn't," I gasp, and Luke practically growls at me.

"Let me finish."

I hold back a growl myself, and Luke waits to make sure I'm going to stop interrupting him before he continues.

"I told him I knew who he should go out with, but he told me he already  likes someone else. He said she's really smart and pretty, but . . . I  think you should just try to get in there anyway."

"‘Get in there'?" I ask, and Luke acts like I'm an idiot.

"Yeah, like get him to like you."

I don't know whether to laugh or lecture him on the importance of minding his own business. "And why would I do that?"

"Don't you ever want to get married?" Luke asks, and this time, I do actually choke.

I have to set down my wrap and cough into my elbow to clear my throat, and my eyes are watering when I say, "Married?"                       
       
           



       

"You're twenty-three," my brother reasons, and my brow furrows at my steering wheel.

"Right. Twenty-three."

"Don't you want kids?"

"Luke!"

"I'm just saying, sis . . . I don't think you're going to find another guy as good as Mike."

My appetite disappears as I rub a spot between my eyes, use the back of  my hand to wipe the mayo oil away, and take a calming breath. I'm not  about to start discussing my love life with a twelve-year-old-much less  one who shares my last name-so I tell him half of the truth. "I'm  concentrating on school right now."

Undeterred, my brother says, "He asks about you sometimes."

"He does?" I question before I can think better of it.

"Yeah. Last night I told him about that time you tried singing to those cows to herd them. What was the name for that again?"

"Oh my God," I say. "You did not."

Luke's laughter almost makes my mortification worth it, but I'm still going to kill him. "He thought it was funny."

Kulning. It's an ancient Swedish herding call I saw on YouTube, and I  sounded like an extremely drunk yodeler. My brother sat on the fence  laughing his ass off. "And you expect him to marry me?" I groan.

"He said he thought it was cute."

At the word cute, I can't help smiling to myself, but I quickly school  my expression back into neutral territory. "Well, I hate to break it to  you, kid, but I didn't go through all this trouble just to drop out of  school and start popping out babies."

"Who said you had to drop out of school just to start dating him?" Luke asks, and I realize what I've said.

It's a choice that's been nagging at the back of my mind, one that I've  been trying to ignore. And without meaning to, I already gave Luke an  answer: I didn't go through all that trouble-five years of part-time  community college, tons of declined financial aid and scholarship  applications, nearly three months of putting up with Danica, two days of  agony waiting for her to call her dad-just to throw it all away.

"Can we talk about something else?" I beg, rolling down my car window for some fresh, freezing air.

"Like what?"

"Like when you're going to get your own girlfriend," I tease to make  sure Luke forgets about the current topic, and when he groans and starts  trying to find his own subject change, I try to just enjoy talking to  my little brother. I try not to think of Mike or impossible decisions,  and I try to forget how sick to my stomach I feel. I even promise Luke  I'll play Deadzone with him that night, and I do-along with Mike. The  three of us play and laugh, and Luke does a not-so-subtle job of trying  to convince Mike of my awesomeness. When we end the game, Mike calls me  and we laugh about it, and he assures me he agrees with every single  thing Luke said. My cheeks are stained red as I listen to him talk, and  by the time he wishes me sweet dreams, I'm not entirely sure I'm not  already living in one.

But then the call ends, and it's just me in a bed in a room in Danica's  apartment. I fall asleep knowing that Mike is leaving on tour in three  days, that I'll see him in two, and that it will probably be for the  very last time.





Chapter 28




I'm no stranger to feeling out of place. High school parties, funerals  of family friends I never met, Danica's thirteenth birthday at an  upscale hair and nail salon that included all of the most popular girls  in her school . . . I didn't exactly feel comfortable at any of them,  but never have I felt as out of place as I do walking to the pond on  Saturday afternoon.

There are people everywhere.

I had to take a shuttle. A freaking shuttle. Everyone was directed to  park in a massive parking lot a few miles from the location. There were  signs, workers conducting traffic-I knew at the sight of bright orange  cones and professionally printed ghost video signs that I was in over my  head. I parked my car in a shimmering sea of vehicles, and I tried to  blend in as I followed everyone else to where the buses were picking  people up.

So many people.                       
       
           



       

Pink hair, blue hair, pierced noses, mohawks, dresses, Chuck Taylors,  high heels, fishnets, leather pants, tutus, leggings, belly shirts,  skinny jeans, choker necklaces, tattoos. I tried not to stand out in my  faded blue hoodie, five-year-old Levi's, and clearance-rack boots.

The buses eventually dropped us off at an access road on the opposite  side of the pond from where our group hiked last time, and I once again  had to swallow my nerves to keep my feet moving forward.

Trucks, everywhere. And not all small trucks, though I did think I  recognized Mike's cherry-red Dodge Ram. No, massive trucks, fit for  hauling military equipment or full-grown trees. And tractors, all kinds.  They honked for people to jump away from the narrow trail to the pond  as they rumbled past us, carrying all sorts of equipment that once again  reminded me how big this video is, how big the band is, how big Mike  is.

How small I am.

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and continued walking, and the  crowd thickened . . . and thickened . . . and thickened. I knew even  before I broke through the tree line that the scene was going to be  insane, judging by the way the noises grew louder . . . and louder . . .  and louder. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I  stepped into that clearing.

Hundreds, thousands of people, and more still coming behind me. Most of  them colorful extras for the video, but also tons of guys with headsets  and black staff T-shirts, all buzzing around like single-minded worker  bees.



I'm standing there, on the precipice of the clearing, frozen with paralyzing shock, when a hand slaps down onto my shoulder.

"How fucking sick is this!" a guy with neon-green hair and a barbell in  his eyebrow cheers in my face, and I manage a mute nod that prompts him  to hoot excitedly and bound away. He's like a very high Mr. Tumnus . . .  I'm officially in punked-out Narnia.

I fumble my phone from my pocket before any more woodland creatures can  realize I'm a human girl where human girls don't belong, and Dee's name  stays on my phone as it rings and rings and rings. "Oh God," I worry out  loud when I get sent to voice mail, staring around at dozens of faces I  don't recognize.

"Excuse me," I blurt, catching a passing staff guy by the arm before I  lose him in the chaos. He furrows his brow at me, and I rush to explain,  "I'm supposed to meet with the band."

"Yeah, kid," he dismisses, already shrugging from my grasp. "You and everyone else. You'll get to meet them later."

"No," I say, uselessly trailing him as he walks away from me. "Listen, I-"

"Hailey!"

Never so happy to hear Dee's voice, I spin around and find her in the  mess of a crowd. She's not hard to spot, considering everyone else is  looking at her too: at her bluish purple mini dress, her knee-high  boots, her long, long legs. Long chocolate-brown curls cascade over her  shoulders, and she wraps me in an excited hug. "I am so happy I won't  have to kill you for not coming!"

"This is insane," I say, and her giddy laugh shakes us both.

"I know, right?!" She pulls away, smiling wider than I've ever seen her  smile. "They told me it was going to be big, but, holy shit, just look  at all this!"

With my trusted friend by my side, I finally take it all in, the massive  scope of it all. The entire clearing has been mowed and manicured, the  grass now cut to climb up only the edges of my boots instead of the legs  of my jeans. Giant white generators can be heard buzzing faintly under  hundreds of voices. And everywhere, breaking up the body count, is tech  equipment: cranes and cherry pickers with gigantic spotlights, massive  cameras attached to off-roading Segways, rolling tracks sunken into the  grass. Dee starts pointing things out: Condor light, jib, Fisher dolly. I  stare wide-eyed at her, and she flashes me a smile.