𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐇// 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐗𝐎𝐂

𝐱𝐯. ✭ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐙

SEPTEMBER, 1977; CHANCE

"I officially hate school more than anything in the whole world!" I proclaimed, dropping my backpack in Eddie's room before jumping onto his bed.

"The whole world?" Eddie followed suit, sprawling out beside me. His hair was floppy back then, short, and easy to move around. "Even more than canned dog food?"

"That's a tie." Grumbling, I turned my head to smother myself against his pillow. "And canned dog food is way up there on the list of things I hate." Kicking my legs up in frustration, I tossed the pillow aside. "Everyone was mean today."

"Everyone's always mean to us." Kicking his shoes off, Eddie went to grab his uncle's acoustic guitar. He returned with it moments later to lift my spirits. "I learned a new song the other day." He grinned, settling next to me. "One of your favorites."

"What is it?" A spark of curiosity had been lit. I got closer to him so that I was practically leaning on him.

Background Music
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-Tiny Dancer by Elton John-
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He began strumming on the guitar, plucking away at a familiar melody. I laughed at his song choice, leaning my head on his shoulder as I gave my voice to the song.

We both crowed the lyrics out to the roof of Eddie's bedroom. I collapsed backward onto his mattress, acting all silly as I sang aloud.

As the song progressed, I made my way back toward him. Wrapping my arms around him, I separated the boy from his guitar. I remember how I pulled him off the bed, making him dance around with me as we cried out the misshapen words.

Once we had finished our fun, Eddie tugged me to sit down on the carpet. Reaching from under his bed, he fished out a glossy Rock N Roll magazine. He had folded the page he visited most often, flipping to it with ease.

"There." He shoved the magazine into my lap, pointing at the advertisement for a wicked cool electric guitar. "There it is, Chance. That's gonna be mine one day. Then I can be a rock star."

"You already are a rock star," I said sweetly, messing up his hair. "What you need an electric guitar for."

"I wanna be a real rock n roll star," Eddie explained, tracing the guitar's outline. "Just like the ones we see on television."

"How about you be my best friend for now." Suggesting the idea coyly, I slung an arm around him. Light shine in from his dirt-covered windows, showing off the tiny dust particles in his room.

"Alright, how about best friends and rockstar?" Eddie compromised, offering his hand out. I gave it a firm shake, agreeing.

"Deal."

OCTOBER, 1985; CHANCE

"Why, Mama? Why didn't you come?" I spent the night of the performance, holed away in my bedroom. Mountains of blankets covered me, the corners wet with tears. "Why?" Mama hadn't been there. She had promised me that she would be. She had promised. She swore up and down that she'd be there and she wasn't. Why?
Wasn't I good enough for her? Was it because I didn't get Sandy? Did she know how Eddie would humiliate me on stage, opting out because she didn't want to be embarrassed by her pathetic daughter? Why couldn't she ever seem to love me?
"Please tell me, God." Whispering through a mouthful of the blanket, tears stung my eyes. "Please tell me what I need to do to have her love me. Please."