Categories > Original > Drama > Awake(working title)
2. Metal
After dinner, JT and I helped clear the dishes. It was his turn in their house to do them, and I felt a little odd not helping, considering I ate there enough to be considered one of the kids.
It didn’t take long between the two of us, which was nice. I could tell JT was relieved when we finished. It suddenly occurred to me that it may not be normal to like washing dishes after a meal. Then again, I never had to.
We could hear Sophie chattering about whatever was on television in the living room, and decided to head to the Triangle.
“Where are you two sneaking off to?” JT’s dad appeared in the kitchen as I stood next to the back door pulling on my hoodie.
“The Triangle. My friend Mitch’s band is playing a set.” JT shrugged and put the last plate away in the cupboard.
“I see. When you planning on being home then?” I listened to his deep tone only a father can have as I tied my shoes.
“Probably midnight. Maybe one o’clock?” JT flashed his toothy grin hopefully as a persuasion.
“One a.m. I know I don’t need to tell you to stay out of trouble.” JT’s dad smiled, but his voice was serious. If there was one person I would always respect and nearly fear it would be Mr. Thornburg. That man meant business.
“Yes, sir.” JT flashed an eager smile at me, then we bounded out the back door and out to the street.
Unlike most of the kids out age, we walked everywhere. JT’s mom was big into saving the planet, or at least trying to save the planet, so JT didn’t have a car yet. I used to have one, but Jane pulled my keys after I had a purely coincidental accidental run in with my therapist’s silver Mercedes.
On foot, it took us nearly fifteen minutes to reach the Triangle. I didn’t mind, but JT was beginning to whine like a baby for the last five minutes.
“Would you knock it off? Jeez, you’d think we were walking across Death Valley or something.” I teased him, and his face instantly sobered when we reached Gunther Avenue, the street where our destination was.
The street was lined with people. I’m sure neither of us remembered seeing so many faces around the Triangle before, and all of them were spilling out into the empty street.
“What’s going on?” I looked to JT for an answer, and he simply shrugged at me.
“Beats me. I didn’t think Mitch’s band was that cool to be honest with you.”
We managed our way through the swarm of people and found that the entrance was guarded by a small, troll looking man with a handlebar mustache.
“Name.” He barked at us. Since when did the Triangle have a damn troll guarding it?
“I’m JT—Jack Thornburg.” JT coughed out his name like it was physically painful to say. “This is Kat Devereux.”
I glanced at the fat man in the black t-shirt. He was eyeballing me unpleasantly, then skimmed his list again.
“JT! Kat!” A voice called from behind us. I turned to see Mitch strolling up with some blond attached at his hip.
The two boys exchanged their odd male bonding handshake and I looked stupidly at the blond, who had already decided to hate me by the glare she sent me when Mitch high-fived me. Great.
“It cool, Pete. They’re with me.” We shoved passed “Pete” and into the dark, smelly underbelly that was Triangle.
A year ago I wouldn’t have set foot on the same street as this place, let alone inside it. It reeked of cigarettes, electrical wiring and sweat. This was the kind of place people were routinely beaten up or knocked unconscious for fun.
Typical boys, I mused. We were led to the far edge of stage right where Mitch left us to meet with his band.
“Pretty cool, huh?” JT elbowed me, raising his eyebrows as if to gesture grandly towards the pit and say “Look how fantastic this is, and I brought you to it. Lucky you!”
I only sighed at him and turned to watch the stream of people entering from the street. I didn’t recognize any of them, so I turned to JT to say something sarcastic, only to have him staring blankly across the room.
“Um, hello? JT?” I waved my hand in front of his face, but the boy didn’t even blink. I immediately turned to scan for whatever he was staring at, and then I realized saw it.
His gaze landed amid a group of five females wearing variations of the same outfit. A few of them seemed deep in conversation, most likely about her latest hand bag, I assume.
“Tell me you’re joking.” I scoffed. What was so fascinating about the robots in blue skinny jeans?
“She’s perfect.” His eyes nearly glistened when he said it. I felt the urge to vomit.
“She’s a clone.”
JT turned to look at me. “Somebody’s jealous.”
My face felt very hot. “I am not jealous.”
“Yeah, you are. Oh, come on, Kat. Don’t be mad.” He followed me as I stomped away from him. Maybe I was being childish, but my best friend calling me jealous of a clone did not sit well with me.
“Forget it, let’s just watch the show.” I muttered as a tall skinny man with a beard longer than an Amish man’s walked to the microphone to announce Mitch’s band.
The crowd seemed enthused, and I tried to be. I really did, despite the thick smell of teenage hormones in the air. Mitch’s band wasn’t all that bad if you liked heavy metal. I was never nuts about the stuff, but following JT to these kinds of shows got me out of the house on Friday nights.
Halfway through Mitch’s set, a crowd surfer nearly knocked me to the floor when he cascaded down on top of me. His foot hit my skull with such a force that I could have sworn I saw stars.
JT yelled something at me but I couldn’t hear him over the music. When I turned my head to respond, I was shoved into him. The song finished and suddenly everyone was pushing us around. There were people shouting all around us, and I very quickly realized that I was in the middle of a testosterone fueled fight.
A fist flew into my arm and I yelped, holding the spot that I was sure would now be bruised by morning.
JT’s eyes were frenzied as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I could hear Mitch’s voice (or maybe it was the drummers?) talking in the PA system, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
It was hard to push through the sea of bodies, even with JT leading the way. I was squished, jostled, and even spit on as we hurried outside. It suddenly wasn’t that hard to get out of the building, as in a moment everyone decided they wanted to leave.
JT kept pulling me down the street, and I nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides.
“I think we can slow down now.” I said, huffing.
“Don’t you hear that?” His pained expression jolted my whole body. My ears were ringing, and I wasn’t hearing anything else until he pointed it out. Sirens.
“Shit! Cops!” I didn’t care that I was out of breath then. I didn’t care that my sides burned from running and the cooler air chapped my lungs. I ran because I knew what would happen if I was caught in the law.
I knew where Jane and Phil would send me. So I ran for my dear, sweet, life.
After dinner, JT and I helped clear the dishes. It was his turn in their house to do them, and I felt a little odd not helping, considering I ate there enough to be considered one of the kids.
It didn’t take long between the two of us, which was nice. I could tell JT was relieved when we finished. It suddenly occurred to me that it may not be normal to like washing dishes after a meal. Then again, I never had to.
We could hear Sophie chattering about whatever was on television in the living room, and decided to head to the Triangle.
“Where are you two sneaking off to?” JT’s dad appeared in the kitchen as I stood next to the back door pulling on my hoodie.
“The Triangle. My friend Mitch’s band is playing a set.” JT shrugged and put the last plate away in the cupboard.
“I see. When you planning on being home then?” I listened to his deep tone only a father can have as I tied my shoes.
“Probably midnight. Maybe one o’clock?” JT flashed his toothy grin hopefully as a persuasion.
“One a.m. I know I don’t need to tell you to stay out of trouble.” JT’s dad smiled, but his voice was serious. If there was one person I would always respect and nearly fear it would be Mr. Thornburg. That man meant business.
“Yes, sir.” JT flashed an eager smile at me, then we bounded out the back door and out to the street.
Unlike most of the kids out age, we walked everywhere. JT’s mom was big into saving the planet, or at least trying to save the planet, so JT didn’t have a car yet. I used to have one, but Jane pulled my keys after I had a purely coincidental accidental run in with my therapist’s silver Mercedes.
On foot, it took us nearly fifteen minutes to reach the Triangle. I didn’t mind, but JT was beginning to whine like a baby for the last five minutes.
“Would you knock it off? Jeez, you’d think we were walking across Death Valley or something.” I teased him, and his face instantly sobered when we reached Gunther Avenue, the street where our destination was.
The street was lined with people. I’m sure neither of us remembered seeing so many faces around the Triangle before, and all of them were spilling out into the empty street.
“What’s going on?” I looked to JT for an answer, and he simply shrugged at me.
“Beats me. I didn’t think Mitch’s band was that cool to be honest with you.”
We managed our way through the swarm of people and found that the entrance was guarded by a small, troll looking man with a handlebar mustache.
“Name.” He barked at us. Since when did the Triangle have a damn troll guarding it?
“I’m JT—Jack Thornburg.” JT coughed out his name like it was physically painful to say. “This is Kat Devereux.”
I glanced at the fat man in the black t-shirt. He was eyeballing me unpleasantly, then skimmed his list again.
“JT! Kat!” A voice called from behind us. I turned to see Mitch strolling up with some blond attached at his hip.
The two boys exchanged their odd male bonding handshake and I looked stupidly at the blond, who had already decided to hate me by the glare she sent me when Mitch high-fived me. Great.
“It cool, Pete. They’re with me.” We shoved passed “Pete” and into the dark, smelly underbelly that was Triangle.
A year ago I wouldn’t have set foot on the same street as this place, let alone inside it. It reeked of cigarettes, electrical wiring and sweat. This was the kind of place people were routinely beaten up or knocked unconscious for fun.
Typical boys, I mused. We were led to the far edge of stage right where Mitch left us to meet with his band.
“Pretty cool, huh?” JT elbowed me, raising his eyebrows as if to gesture grandly towards the pit and say “Look how fantastic this is, and I brought you to it. Lucky you!”
I only sighed at him and turned to watch the stream of people entering from the street. I didn’t recognize any of them, so I turned to JT to say something sarcastic, only to have him staring blankly across the room.
“Um, hello? JT?” I waved my hand in front of his face, but the boy didn’t even blink. I immediately turned to scan for whatever he was staring at, and then I realized saw it.
His gaze landed amid a group of five females wearing variations of the same outfit. A few of them seemed deep in conversation, most likely about her latest hand bag, I assume.
“Tell me you’re joking.” I scoffed. What was so fascinating about the robots in blue skinny jeans?
“She’s perfect.” His eyes nearly glistened when he said it. I felt the urge to vomit.
“She’s a clone.”
JT turned to look at me. “Somebody’s jealous.”
My face felt very hot. “I am not jealous.”
“Yeah, you are. Oh, come on, Kat. Don’t be mad.” He followed me as I stomped away from him. Maybe I was being childish, but my best friend calling me jealous of a clone did not sit well with me.
“Forget it, let’s just watch the show.” I muttered as a tall skinny man with a beard longer than an Amish man’s walked to the microphone to announce Mitch’s band.
The crowd seemed enthused, and I tried to be. I really did, despite the thick smell of teenage hormones in the air. Mitch’s band wasn’t all that bad if you liked heavy metal. I was never nuts about the stuff, but following JT to these kinds of shows got me out of the house on Friday nights.
Halfway through Mitch’s set, a crowd surfer nearly knocked me to the floor when he cascaded down on top of me. His foot hit my skull with such a force that I could have sworn I saw stars.
JT yelled something at me but I couldn’t hear him over the music. When I turned my head to respond, I was shoved into him. The song finished and suddenly everyone was pushing us around. There were people shouting all around us, and I very quickly realized that I was in the middle of a testosterone fueled fight.
A fist flew into my arm and I yelped, holding the spot that I was sure would now be bruised by morning.
JT’s eyes were frenzied as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I could hear Mitch’s voice (or maybe it was the drummers?) talking in the PA system, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
It was hard to push through the sea of bodies, even with JT leading the way. I was squished, jostled, and even spit on as we hurried outside. It suddenly wasn’t that hard to get out of the building, as in a moment everyone decided they wanted to leave.
JT kept pulling me down the street, and I nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides.
“I think we can slow down now.” I said, huffing.
“Don’t you hear that?” His pained expression jolted my whole body. My ears were ringing, and I wasn’t hearing anything else until he pointed it out. Sirens.
“Shit! Cops!” I didn’t care that I was out of breath then. I didn’t care that my sides burned from running and the cooler air chapped my lungs. I ran because I knew what would happen if I was caught in the law.
I knew where Jane and Phil would send me. So I ran for my dear, sweet, life.
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