Girl On Fire

1

"Fuck." I muttered to myself as I pumped gas into my truck. My very old, gas hogging, run down truck that was passed down to me from my father. Well, wouldn't exactly say 'passed down' more like I took it from my father because I didn't want it to end up in a junk yard to rust more than it was now.

Was it my favorite vehicle? No. Did I love it anyways? Yeah.

As I watched the numbers on the screen reach up to what I needed, I released the handle to the pump, expecting it to stop, but the rusted pump handle got stuck and  wouldn't budge. I watched my gas price go higher with panic, my truck getting more than it needed.

"Please don't do this." I whispered in fear, thinking the gas will pour out as it over fills. Imagining the possible scenario I'd have to deal with if it did.

After giving the handle a good smack, it let out a click and moved back to place. Relief washed over me as I put the pump back in it's holder and jumping in. As I slammed the metal door shut and hand rolled my window down, I threw a CD into the player to have some music for my ride home.

It was a band my uncle showed me years back that I didn't really care for until now when I discovered them on my own.

The band was Greta Van Fleet. Everyone made fun of them as a cover band for Led Zeppelin. Clearly, that was their biggest inspiration and every small band starting up is going to sound similar to another. They don't always start off with their own sound.

I stuck my arm out the window and tapped my thumb on the roof of the door to the music, while trying desperately to hit Josh's high notes. I could do it, but it hurt my throat after a couple of attempts.

I would say I'm decently obsessed with them. Posters on my walls, I owned all their albums on CD's, learned their songs on guitar, may or may not have a tattoo for them, etc. the hyper fixation was strong with this one.

They were a fantastic band and I regret not listening to them sooner when they weren't as much discovered. Concert tickets would've been cheaper.

Speaking of their concert, I had two tickets for my 'friend' and I to go see them. Unfortunately I was broke and could only afford the cheapest ones, which was very far from the stage, but nonetheless, I was grateful for being able to witness them live.

I wasn't the best of friends with this girl but living in a decently small town, you don't exactly make new friends the way you'd think you can. I just wanted someone to go with.

Since they weren't touring to Florida, my friend and I got the idea to get the tickets and drive to the Georgia performance. See them play, then spend the rest of the week on vacation around the mountains and seeing the sights. I was pretty excited. Hopefully we get along this time. She likes to start arguments over the smallest shit.

Once I stopped at a red light, I muted my music and called my friend to check up on the plans, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I picked at my nails. Phone calls made me unnecessarily anxious.

"Hey." I said once she answered.

"Hey." She greeted me straight. The light turned green without me noticing; the car behind me honked, scaring me and hitting the gas, jerking the whole car.

"So what's the plan? We're still going with everything right?" I asked her. The car that honked drove up next to me to flick me off. I did the same back as he sped away. Unnecessary. If I wasn't on the phone, I'd scream at him.

"Yeah. I got everything mostly packed and ready." She said. I picked up the phone with my free hand and placed it on the other ear.

"Okay cool, I'm just about finished. Heading home to finish up cleaning, that way I can come home to a clean house." I chuckled. I hated coming home to a messy house. For some reason, it's stresses me out and I can't relax until it's spot less or at least less cluttered.

Everything for me was already packed and ready to go. I didn't want to wait till tomorrow morning to leave. I was ready to drive tonight.
We chatted for a little longer before hanging up the phone and back to blasting Greta.
———

I pulled up onto the gravel drive way and shut off my truck, hopping out, nearly twisting my ankle from landing wrong. It happened way more often than I'd like to admit.

"Shit." I grunted as I limped to the front door. It happened so often, I had to buy myself a wrap for my ankle. As I opened it, a loud creak filled the silence of my home. A little old house that was very much falling apart but to me, that's what made it nice. I didn't like new things. I used everything until it was in pieces or had holes, like my truck. It was my father's but I learned how to fix it up myself with YouTube.

This house wasn't from any family of mine, it was the only thing I could afford in this area since Florida was expensive.

Why not move somewhere else? It's too much work and I got too many things, however; I have thought about living on the road in a van. Didn't seem too difficult for myself and vans we're definitely affordable, but once again, too much work and I hate putting effort into things.

I placed my keys down on the table and removed my boots, placing them by the front door. I made myself dinner, ate in silence and went to bed, barely being able to fall asleep from all the excitement of what lies ahead of me.

I actually couldn't sleep. I was rolling around for hours, kicking my comforter on the floor, pulling it off the floor cause I was cold, taking off my pants cause it was uncomfortable, removing practically every clothing item to get in a comfortable position, but nothing worked.

I rolled out of bed with a groan and grabbed my bong, lighter, and grinder.

"This better work." I mumbled as I walked across the house. I stepped outside to the porch and sat down on the plastic chair, grinding up weed and placing it in the bong, taking a big rip that absolutely killed my throat and my lungs. I leaned forward between my legs and coughed, practically drooling. I would be very embarrassed if anyone saw this.

Once I was done dying, I leaned back and listened to the silence of the night as the high took over. I began to think of scenarios of what would happen at the concert tomorrow.

Would I meet a cute boy there? Maybe future husband? That would be cool if me and my husband like Greta. We could dance to light my love at our wedding. I smiled at the thought.

What if I met the band? That would be even cooler. I'd want to get high with them. With dumb little scenarios playing in my head for the rest of the night, I slowly walked back in and went to bed.