ADD IT UP ✰ RODRICK HEFFLEY x MALE! OC

CHAPTER 3

     TRIGGER WARNING

This chapter contains a depiction of verbal and implied physical abuse. Reader's discretion is advised. It doesn't happen until midway through the chapter, but it comes up pretty quickly when it does. The event will be italicized, so that you can skip it if you wish.

Rodrick, Ben, and I left the office, the former two having trouble subtly exiting an abandoned building with mounds of equipment in tow.

     "Well—" Rodrick began, "Sorry 'bout the mess. The band just got some—" he slammed the back door to his van, said door making an awful creaking noise and sounding on the verge of falling off, "New equipment."

     As he was putting away the sound system, I took the time to examine the exterior of the locomotive. It had the band name, Löded Diper, seemingly spray painted to the side, and the most recent car tag on his license plate read "05"— which was eight years ago. As I was starting to have some second thoughts about riding with Rodrick, he reopened the back door to the van for me to load my stuff inside.

      "I got it!" Rodrick remarked, upon seeing me attempt to load my bike into the back of the van. Watching him struggle through the process was too painful for even Ben to watch, because he eventually helped Rodrick cram my poor bike into the crowded interior.

     "Well, ladies first," Rodrick teased, pointing to the back of the van. At first, I assumed he was talking to me. I tried to climb into the trunk, to which he blocked the back entrance, indicating that he wanted ben to enter first. Ben, taking notice of this, flipped Rodrick off, but still reluctantly climbed into the back.

      I shot Rodrick an accusatory look as he opened the side door. The interior stank of weed (and pine air freshener) and I could feel the springs of the chair beneath me, taking note of what appeared to be a boot reeking of alcohol underneath my seat.

     "Holy shit, when was the last time you cle-"

      But before I could finish my sentence, Rodrick had already stepped on the gas, and I jolted forward in the chair as Rodrick and Ben exploded into a bought of maniacal laughter.

       "You're not gonna believe this," Ben said as they ran over a speed bump, causing me to fly out of my seat. "But I got us a gig at the Headless Chicken!"

       "About time!" Rodrick exclaimed. "They've waited four years for their bar's drummer to come back, but maybe the 'mysterious circumstances of his disappearance' worked out in our favor!" He turned around to give ben a high five, almost hitting an old woman crossing the street with the van in the process.

My father was their drummer, and when he was given two weeks left to live, he and his band collectively thought it would be real punk of them to announce that their hiatus was caused by their drummer "disappearing under mysterious and unknown circumstances." That hasn't worked out well for the Headless Chickens, considering that they haven't found a replacement drummer or played a gig in four years.

"The Headless Chickens?" I piped up. "My dad played in that band!"

"Oh. Did he?" Rodrick questioned, looking at me with a suspicious grin on his face. "What does he play?"

I quickly made up a lie. "Bass."

Rodrick and Ben looked at one another and broke into hysterics. "That guy is Chris's, hero," Rodrick pointed at me. "You gotta introduce him somet- OH FUCK."

The van almost ran over a gaggle of girls, to which Rodrick turned around and eyed them flirtatiously. I peered out the rear view window and realized that Heather was among the girls in the group. My stomach bubbled with jealousy; she briefly made eye contact with me, to which I immediately closed the window, a sour look on my face.