Thunderbowl (3 page)

Al drove me to the hospital because I was covered in blood. The hospital called my parents. My mom and dad arrived and found me minus a front tooth. I told them I had tripped over an extension cord. I am pretty clumsy.

My mother was so upset she could hardly speak. But Dad tore into me on the way home.

“What are you doing with your life?” he asked.

“I had an accident,” I answered.

“Yeah, but Jeremy, something is happening to you. I don't like it. You've got to settle down. Look at your face. You're a mess.”

“I'm okay,” I said.

“Jeremy, it's not just this. I ran into Mr. Langford, your English teacher, and he told me you are on a downhill slide at school. You can't throw your life away. School is too important. And now… now this!”

“Give me a break, Dad!” I said. I really didn't need the hassles.

Somehow it seemed more important than ever that I stay with it. I couldn't let Richie think that he was going to get his way. Besides, I was hooked on the music.

“No,” I said. “I'm not quitting.”

Eventually the tooth came out of me the only way it could. Just like the doctor said it would.

My dad sent me to his buddy, Dr. Hol-gate, who fitted me with a fake tooth that I could pop in and out. When I showed it to Suzanne, she said, “That's really cute. I like it.”

Thunderbowl was working on some new tunes. We were really pushing ourselves.
The music had taken over and I loved every minute of it. I was becoming a better guitar-ist from all the practice and performance. And I kept pushing my limits, trying new things.

But I kept falling asleep in school.

“Try some of these pills,” Drek said, pouring some out of a little box into my hand one night.

“No way. I'm not into uppers,” I told him.

“Shoot. You buy this stuff over the counter. Not drugs. Just caffeine. Like in coffee.”

I hated coffee. But I tried the stuff Drek gave me. It worked for a while, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't find time for fifty pages of reading in Modern World Problems. I had lost my grip on every important verb in the French language. My average in math was a lowly fifty-five, and I just couldn't seem to find the time to get at Langford's term paper, “Alternatives to War.”

I didn't fit in at school and I sure didn't fit in at the club. All I really wanted out of life was music and sleep.

Then one day I was sleeping my way through Langford's class. The bell rang and I didn't wake up. Everyone left but me. Langford tapped me on the shoulder.

“Truth time, Jeremy,” he said.

I woke up from a dream where I was running away from something. There was a long empty hallway. I don't know what was after me. I was in a daze. I pulled my fake tooth out of my mouth and looked at it. I couldn't remember where it came from.

“Just mellow out for a minute,” Langford said.

I yawned. “If I was any more mellow, I'd be dead.”

Langford looked unhappy. “Jeremy, what happened to you? It's like someone scooped out your brain and threw it in a ditch. You fall asleep in class. Your grades are in the sewer.”

“Mr. Langford, I should tell you, I'm thinking of quitting school.” This had been building for a while. It had to be school or music. Not both.

“Why?” he asked.

“You wouldn't understand,” I said.

“Try me. I'm all ears.”

“It's just something I have to do.”

Langford looked upset. He shook his head and didn't say anything else. Then he walked away. I was left alone in a big empty classroom.

That night, driving to The Dungeon with Al and Drek, I told them what I was thinking about school.

“Forget about school,” Drek advised me. “You don't need it. You're going to be a legend in your own time.”

Drek had hated school and quit. He had always been a failure in school even though he was smart. Drek could read music and electronics magazines twenty hours a day. But school just never clicked.

“Stay in school,” Al told me. He acted like a father sometimes. “Summer's coming soon and you won't have no homework to worry about.”

“Summer's six months away,” I said.

“Well, hang in there.”

Great advice.

You know, I thought that would do it. Quitting school. Or at least my decision to quit school.

But I kept putting it off. Langford knew and the guys in the band knew that I had decided. I wanted to wait for the right time to tell everyone else. Truth time, like Langford had said.

I decided to tell Suzanne, though. She
always wanted me to talk to her, but I never felt like I had anything to say.

“Suzanne, I've decided to quit school,” I said.

“Jeremy, I didn't know you were in college.”

“High school. I still go to high school.”

Suzanne gave me one of her goofy smiles. “You're not telling the truth.”

“No, I'm younger than you. I should have told you. I'm not supposed to be playing here. Or drinking this beer.” I took a long hard swallow.

“I bet you're a virgin, too,” she said.

“What?”

“Sex,” she said. “I bet you haven't had any.”

“How would you know?”

“I'm just guessing,” she answered. The conversation had turned weird awful quickly. And I wasn't going to own up to the fact that I had never had sex.

“Just because I'm young, it doesn't mean I've led a totally sheltered life,” I said, maybe a bit too defensively.

“I believe you,” she said. She bit her lip. “And I don't care how old you are. I like you just the way you are.”

“Well, I'm glad that's out of the way.”

“But I think it's fine you're quitting school. I never felt free until I was out of school.”

“You finished?”

“Well, yeah. But I didn't have anything better to do.”

The break was over. Time to crawl back into the music. “Just don't tell anyone, please,” I said.

“I won't.” Suzanne went back to her drink. I went up on stage. Thunderbowl began to wail.

Halfway through the set, I noticed that a guy had sat down with Suzanne. It was Ike from the Dogs. He had ordered a whole table full of beer. I started getting worried.

Then I saw Ike pawing at her. At first she didn't seem to mind. But I did.

Now, Suzanne wasn't exactly my girlfriend. And I was probably just one in a
long string of her favorites. That's the way she was. But I didn't trust anyone in The Dungeon. Guys came here to meet girls. Al called the place “the meat market.” And Ike was not among my trusted friends.

I saw Suzanne start to push back from him. Ike wouldn't leave her alone.

“Drek, let's take a break now. I need to take care of some business,” I said.

“Stewy won't like it,” Drek answered.

Al saw what I was worried about and backed me up. “Let Stewy twirl it in his ear.” Al announced our break. I unplugged my guitar.

I walked over to Suzanne's table, sat down behind the army of empty beer glasses. Suzanne looked like she'd had enough to drink.

“How are you, Ike?” I asked.

“I was fine until you showed up,” Ike answered.

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

Suzanne started to giggle. Ike grabbed her wrist. Now what? I wondered.

She was pulling back from him, but he wasn't letting go. Man, I was getting mad. I knew I was about to get in over my head. I started to count my teeth with my tongue.

“Let go of her, Ike, or you'll be sorry,” I said. I was surprised at how convincingly it came out.

“Who's gonna make me?” he snapped. I suddenly noticed how much Ike looked like a caveman.

“We'll give it a try,” said a voice from behind him. It was Al, the steamroller. Alongside of him was Drek.

Ike was ready to blow. Al would have had him out cold on the floor in ten seconds. I could have just stood back and watched.

Just then, Stewy walked up. “Every-thing okay here, boys?”

I smiled. “Yes. Just fine, sir.”

“Good, good. I like all my customers to have a good time.”

“Well, we were just leaving,” Suzanne said in a slurred voice. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We're leaving,” she said, fishing her car keys out of her purse.

“Hey, I've got to play another set. Besides, you've had a lot to drink. You shouldn't be driving.”

Suzanne gave me a look that could burn through concrete. “Well, I'm leaving. With you or without you.” She was wobbling as she walked away. I couldn't let her drive off like that.

I followed her to her red Trans Am and got in. As soon as I sat down, she leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth. She stuck her tongue halfway down my throat. I thought I'd choke. But I can't say I wanted her to quit.

Just as quickly she pulled away from me. She fired up the car. “Watch this,” she said and put the car in reverse, pushing the gas pedal to the floor. We lost a year's worth of good tire tread in thirty seconds as she squealed out of the parking space. Next she jammed the Trans Am into first
gear and tore out of there. I was sure we were going to get killed.

“Slow down,” I yelled.

“Come on, loosen up,” she answered. She was weaving a little and driving way too fast. “Bet you didn't know I was a hotshot driver.”

“No, I didn't,” I said. “Now cut it out!”

“But you haven't seen anything yet.”

We were approaching an intersection. Suzanne downshifted, cranked the wheel hard to the right and threw the car into a screaming full-speed turn.

We almost made the turn, but the Trans Am slid over onto the other side of the road. A car was coming head-on. All I saw were the headlights. Suzanne cranked the wheel hard to the right. Too far. Now we jumped the curb and were speeding across somebody's lawn. Straight ahead was a tree.

Suzanne was pulling hard again on the wheel. But she still had her foot down
on the gas. In a panic I reached for the ignition key, yanked it hard and pulled it out.

We were back on the sidewalk now and headed for the street. The car sputtered to a stop.

Suzanne hung her head. I thought she was going to cry. I was too mad to try and be nice to her.

“That was stupid” was all I could say. I was still holding her key chain. The keys felt warm in my hand.

I opened the door and got out.

“Give me my keys back so we can get out of here,” she insisted.

“Forget it!” I hollered. I threw them as far as I could off into the dark night.

Then I started walking.

I thought I wouldn't want to see Suzanne again. But when she didn't show the next night at The Dungeon, I phoned her house. There was no answer, even though I tried about twenty times.

My playing wasn't so good. I hit some wrong chords in the middle of “Ugly Intruder.” At one point I nearly stumbled off the stage.

“What's wrong with you?” Al asked me.

“I don't know,” I said. “I guess I don't feel inspired.”

“Inspired? Bull. Forget the girl. Get into the music.” Al looked over at Drek. “Kids today… I don't know what gets into ‘em,” he said, shaking his head.

I looked around at the packed house. We had a reputation. We were just about the hottest band in town. Drek said it was time to cut a demo with our own money. We had lots of our own material. But I didn't think we were ready. And I wanted to hold onto some of the money I'd made. I looked out at the crowd again and around at the faces. Something was missing. Suzanne wasn't there.

Then I spotted a familiar face. Langford! My English teacher was here at The Dungeon! He was looking at me. He waved. I pretended I didn't see him.

“Come on, Germ. Stop daydreaming. We have work to play,” Drek reminded me.

Al leaned across his drums and whispered, “Get inspired.”

So I got inspired. I wanted Langford to know why I was thinking about quitting school. He wasn't such a bad guy. He deserved to know the truth.

I dug deep in my pocket for my favorite guitar pick. I closed my eyes and I let myself climb way inside the music. The old me was back. With my guitar I was off into deep space.

At the end of the set, Langford was standing beside the stage clapping. “We need to talk, Jeremy,” he said.

“I don't know if there's anything else I have to say. You can see the whole story.”

“Come on,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”

I could see he was not going to give up that easily. We sat down at a table. The waiter brought us each a beer, but I didn't touch mine. Mr. Langford looked worried. He smiled at me. “That was fantastic
music, Jeremy. I can see why you want to quit school. I played bass in a rock band when I was younger. It was 1969. We even opened for the Grateful Dead once.”

“No kidding?” I said, forgetting I was talking to my English teacher.

“No kidding,” Langford repeated. “But that's ancient history. I just wanted you to know that I know what it feels like. But you should still stay in school. You will have plenty of time for music when you graduate. Don't throw everything away for this.”

Now I felt uncomfortable. “Did you come here to hassle me or hear the band play?”

Langford threw his hands up in the air, but kept on talking.

What I didn't know then was that Richie Gregg had been right behind us. He was playing spy and playing dirty. As soon as he began to get the picture he tromped off to get Stewy Lyons.

Richie came back and sat Stewy down at our table. Drek and Al spotted trouble and they came over too.

“Tell Stewy the truth, Germ-brain,” Richie said. “You're underage and you're still in school.”

Stewy looked really annoyed with the whole scene. Langford and my big mouth could lose us the gig. Al and Drek would be really choked. It would be the end of our having an audience for our music.