Only Everything (31 page)

“What do we do now?” the clean-cut guy said. “God! Doesn’t he get we can’t play without a drummer?”

I froze. Did he just say drummer?

“Can you do it?” Steve Miller Band asked Fred.

He wagged his head, looking at the floor. “You know I can’t sing and keep the beat. I been working on it, but . . .” He blew out a sigh and his head hung even lower. “I guess I gotta tell him. Get ready to run for it.”

“Wait,” I said.

Fred turned around. His eyes widened when he saw me.

I squared my shoulders. “I can do it.”

“Seriously?” Fred asked.

The other two guys edged over. “You play?” Steve Miller Band asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s your set list look like?”

Clean-Cut unfolded a piece of lined paper from the back pocket of his jeans. “Mostly classic rock covers, with some newer pop stuff mixed in. For the ladies,” he added, lifting one shoulder.

I ran my eyes over the list. “I can do this.”

Fred eyed me suspiciously. He was about to ask me something when Darla, Josh, and Veronica joined us. Darla looped her arm around mine and held on. Tight.

“You guys gonna get going anytime soon?” Josh asked, sipping his beer. He glanced at his phone. “’Cause I thought we said eight o’clock, and it’s already eight fifteen.”

“Sorry, man,” Fred said. “We’re down a drummer.”

“Dude,” Steven Miller Band said, gesturing at me.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “I’m sitting in.”

Darla and Veronica exchanged an alarmed look. Darla’s fingernails dug into my flesh.

“Why would you?” Fred asked warily. He’d been a jerk to me since day one, lording his seniority over me. I kind of liked that the tables had turned. That now I was in charge and I was helping him out instead of screwing him over—being the bigger man. At least that’s how it would look to him. But really I just wanted to play with a real band for once. And okay, yeah, it was nice to help these guys out. They were so obviously terrified of letting Josh down.

“Because I want to,” I replied simply.

“No no no no no,” Veronica said, shaking her head. “You
cannot
play with them.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Behind her, I saw True and her new friend Heath enter the living room, Heath slapping hands with everyone in sight. That dude had made friends quick.

“Because. They’re, like, band geeks,” Darla hissed, turning away from the others. Veronica laughed. My face burned. Had she seriously just said that to my face?

“Darla, I’m in the band.”

“Yeah, but do you have to advertise it?” Veronica said loudly.

“Veronica,” Josh said through his teeth. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?” Her blue eyes widened innocently. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“Actually, you’re not,” Josh replied. “If he wants to play, he should play.”

“Josh. Come on,” said Veronica, who was turning a kind of awful shade of purple. “It’s total social suicide.”

Clean-Cut’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks a lot.”

“I’m just saying,” Veronica said, ducking her chin.

“You ever think maybe you should just
stop
saying things?” Josh asked.

“No, man. She’s right,” Brian said, fiddling with the collar of his varsity jacket. He leaned toward me, talking out the side of his mouth like he was in some cop drama. “All the guys from the team are here.”

“So?” I replied.

Brian lifted his shoulders with this face on, like the answer was obvious. “So, they don’t know you’re in the band.”

“What’s the matter with you people?” I blurted. “Can’t I be a runner and a drummer? What’s the big freaking deal?”

“It’s just,” Darla said, bopping her knees like she had to pee. “These guys are . . . you know . . . and you’re . . .”

Everyone squirmed except Veronica, who was pouting. Clean-Cut and Steve Miller Band had gone from terrified to looking like they were about ready to throw-down.

“What?” I asked. “I’m what?”

She just stared at me, and suddenly it hit me. She didn’t even see me. All she saw was the Josh clone she wanted me to be. And I had let her. I had let her try to turn me into him, the same way I had let my dad make me feel like crap my whole life for not being more like my brothers. Suddenly I was sick of it. I was sick of feeling bad for just being me. I was sick of not sticking up for myself. I was sick of caring what other people thought. Especially the wrong people.

“That’s it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Who has the sticks?”

Steve Miller Band fumbled behind the drum kit and came out with a pair of drumsticks. I grabbed them, holding one in each fist. It was the first time in forever I had left my own at home. Because Darla had asked me to.

“Let’s do this,” I said.

“You sure?” Fred asked.

“We band geeks gotta stick together,” I told him, staring daggers at Darla. I climbed over one of the smaller amps toward the drum kit, and Fred smiled. I’m pretty sure it was the first time I’d seen his teeth.

“But, Charlie—”

I ripped off the plaid shirt and handed it to Darla, revealing the band T-shirt I wore underneath, a souvenir from this awesome show at SXSW I’d seen last year. I’d had to sneak out to do it, and it
was the only time I’d ever been grounded, but it was worth it. And so was this moment. Worth it, I mean.

“You can keep this,” I said. “And also, we’re done.”

Darla let out an indignant noise as I used one hand to mess up my hair completely, then sat down behind the drums. She turned around and disappeared toward the back of the house, and Veronica followed. Fred shot me an impressed look as he got behind the microphone.

“We are Universal Truth!”

I lifted the sticks and counted out the beat. “One! Two! Three! Four!”

It had never felt so good to take out my anger on a set of drums. And as it turned out, Universal Truth might have been a crappy band name, but they were actually a really good band.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Katrina

I sat on the edge of the fraying faux-leather couch and stared at the food on the kitchen table. The whole roasted chicken. The bowl of cornbread stuffing, which was Ty’s favorite. The fresh green beans I’d chopped and steamed myself. All of it cold and congealing.

The clock read 9:00. It had been three hours. Three hours since he’d seen it, snorted, and walked out with a “Thanks, babe, but I gotta meet some people. I’ll be back soon.”

I’d tried to do my trig homework, but I couldn’t. I was too busy being pissed. Later I’d tried to do my chemistry homework, but I couldn’t. I was too distracted by the slowly ticking clock, wondering where he was. Finally I’d attempted to outline my history paper, but I couldn’t do that, either, because by that point I was shaking from anger, worry, and to top it all off, hunger.

So now I was just sitting. Sitting with my legs crossed tightly, my arms clamped over my chest, and my bag packed at my feet.

The door at the end of the communal hallway slammed, and I heard the jangle of Ty’s keys as he approached the door. I started to sweat. I had to remember why I was doing this. Yesterday at the
library, Ty had made me feel about two inches tall and even less significant in front of Charlie and True and, maybe worst of all, Mrs. Pauley. And still, I’d done all of this for him. I’d done it to make him feel loved and special and like everything was going to be okay. But did he even notice? Did he even care?

A few weeks ago, even a few days ago, I might have let it roll off my back, but not now. Now I knew I didn’t have to feel that way.

There were other ways to feel. Like proud. Like special. Like smart and appreciated and
seen
.

My bag was packed at my feet, my backpack next to me on the couch. But as the key was shoved into the lock, I started to double-think my plan. I had thought that this was something that had to be done in person, but maybe I should just get through the night and text him tomorrow.

No, Katrina. Don’t chicken out. You can do this.

The voice in my head sounded a lot like my dad’s.

The door swung open. Ty’s eyes were shot through with red veins. He looked at me, looked at the bag, and turned away with a laugh.

“You moving out?” he asked, throwing his keys on top of the bookcase. They slid right off the other side and hit the floor with a clatter. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it toward the hook, but it landed in a heap at his feet.

I stood up. My knees were shaking. “We should talk.”

Ty slammed the door and stormed past me to the fridge, kicking the jacket aside. He cast a dismissive look at the table, then came back with a bottle of beer and downed half of it before replying.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Ty—”

“You’re breaking up with me?
You’re
breaking up with
me
?” he shouted, sauntering toward me across the stained brown rug. “I defended you to your bitch of a mother! I took you in! And now, when I’m fired and have nothing to do and
need
you,
you’re
breaking up with
me
?”

“You didn’t exactly need me tonight when I made you dinner and you decided to ditch out and get drunk instead!” I blurted, grabbing my bag off the floor. My whole body trembled in fear, in disgust, in regret. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“Oh, it’s always about you, isn’t it?” Ty shouted, his face turning purple.

“It’s not about me! It’s about you, Ty. What you want, what you need,” I replied, my voice cracking. “You didn’t take me in because you loved me or wanted to help me. You took me in because it made you feel good to shove it in my mother’s face. You don’t care about me. If you did, you wouldn’t come to my school and humiliate me in front of the entire courtyard! You wouldn’t storm screaming into the library and tell off my boss! All you care about is yourself and your job and your friends.”

“That’s not true,” Ty said, spittle forming on his lips.

I drew myself up straight. “Fine. Then tell me one thing you love about me. Tell me one thing you even like.”

Ty’s face softened as he looked me up and down, an appreciative gleam in his eye. “You’re—”

“And don’t say I’m beautiful or sexy or something,” I interjected. “Something else. Something real.”

He clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed. He was pissed, because he’d been caught. And he had no other answer.

“I’m outta here,” I said.

I shoved the door open and speed-walked down the hallway toward the stairs.

“Fine!” Ty shouted after me, needing to get in the last word. “Just go! I can do better than you anyway, you little—”

I could imagine what he said next, but I didn’t hear it. The door to the stairwell had already slammed behind me, and I was gone.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

True

“This has to be their last song, right?” I said, clutching the handle on the back of Hephaestus’s wheelchair. Charlie smiled as he pounded the drums, having the time of his life. I was happy for him. He’d stood up for himself and was feeling that high. Not to mention the obvious rush he got from immersing himself in the music. But even more importantly, he’d dumped the deadweight Darla. He was now free to find his true love. It was happening. It was finally happening. “What do I do? What do I say?”

“Will you just relax? It’s a party,” Hephaestus replied. “And your friend there is a pretty stellar drummer.”

“I knew that already,” I replied, sweat prickling under my arms. I glanced around at the laughing faces, the jostling bodies, the raised cups. “It’s hot in here and there are too many people. And why isn’t Katrina here? She should be here.”

“First of all, Katrina doesn’t exactly run with this crowd, in case you hadn’t noticed. Or have you still not figured out how high school works?” Hephaestus checked out a pretty girl in a tight purple shirt as she sauntered by. “And secondly, you can’t just sit
on your cloud and observe from afar anymore. Humanity is everywhere. Deal with it.”

“Ugh. Maybe I won’t thank Harmonia for sending you,” I replied.

The song came to a crashing, slamming climax, and everyone in the room cheered. The fat kid behind the microphone leaned in, his upper lip glistening. “Thank you! We are Universal Truth! Good night!”

More applause. Then he grabbed the mic again. “Oh, and we’re available for sweet sixteens and bar mitzvahs. Please come up and sign your name to our e-mail list for more information.”

There was a loud peel of feedback that sent everyone groaning until someone finally hit the power.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Hephaestus, pushing my way through the crowd.

Charlie shook hands with the other guys in the band and chatted with the singer. When I got to the “stage,” he turned around and his whole face lit up at the sight of me. To my surprise, I felt flattered. It was nice that he was so glad to see me.

“Charlie! You were incredible!” I told him, beaming.

“Thanks! They’re not bad, huh?” He glanced over his shoulder at the other guys, who were huddling in the corner now. “They said they might have a spot for me. Apparently, the kid who was sick tonight ditches all the time so . . . I guess his loss is my gain.”

I grinned. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Charlie’s eyes darted past me as Hephaestus arrived at my side. “Is Katrina with you?”

I reached for Hephaestus’s shoulder and clamped down hard, hardly daring to hope. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I have to talk to her.” He whipped out his phone and started texting, then shoved it back in his pocket. “Screw this, do you know where she lives?”

My hands clasped in front of my heart. He’d chosen not to text? I was so proud of him I felt like I could burst. “Yeah. She lives with that boyfriend of hers. Ty.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s face drooped, but only for a second. He cleared his throat and shoved the drumsticks into his back pocket. “Do you know where
he
lives?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Wait a minute, not Ty Donahue,” Hephaestus said.

I squinted at him. “Yeah, I think that’s his name.”