Jinx

3. Crashing Cars

I climbed up the steps of the bookmobile as the driver started the engine. (Tré's Dad enjoyed chauffeuring us around.) Mike and Tré waited for me inside, but I had no intention of talking to them. I was going to just listen to my music and try to escape my mind, even though the thought seemed impossible. I avoided their stares as I sat down across from them at the "booth" with the table between us. I quickly put in my earphones, and the music was already playing. I saw Mike and Tré glance at each other with concern in their eyes, but I stared at the window, intent on being left alone.

My thoughts took me to that night, when we were supposed to be performing a show for an audience of 300 people. I was nervous. Every time I thought about it I began to shake. I didn't know why I was nervous. I was usually stoked about doing shows, but for some reason I was dreading this one. I couldn't let the guys know, though. They would call it off, or try to get me help or something. That wouldn't be fair for them. They deserved to play the show. They've been waiting for it all month. I just needed to grit through it. I just didn't know if I could.

I sighed and closed my eyes, balling my fists to stop the trembling. My stomach growled and made all sorts of noises, but I wasn't hungry. My feet tapped quickly to in time with the music, and my breath was shaky. I could feel the effects of the peroxide of my sore arm, and I was beginning to get a splitting headache. Overall, I was not in good shape.

I could feel the guys' stares on me as I shifted in my seat. I tried to ignore them, but they were being pretty obvious.

"What?" I said, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.

Tré's light blue eyes locked onto mine, and I felt like he was reading my mind, discovering everything that had ever been in my head. It terrified me. I quickly looked away from him. He sighed and looked down at his lap.

"We need to talk." Tré murmured, playing with the skull ring on his left hand. I pretended not to hear him. I didn't want to deal with that at the moment. I continued staring out the window until he shouted at me.

"Billie!" Tré yelled, pulling out my earphones and turning my face toward him. I was frightened by the rage on his face. Tré never got mad. He only shouted when we were on stage or in public. Never at us. Even Mike jumped a little. "Tell me what's going on!"

I was too startled to react right away. In fact, I was too startled to remember to breathe. Tré's face was tinted red as he stared at me, waiting for an answer. I just sat there, trying to get air into my lungs.

"Well?" Tré insisted, never looking away. I finally was able to take a deep breath. I shrugged, not knowing what to say. I didn't know what was going on myself. I thought it would only have lasted a couple of days, and then I'd be over it. Since the start of the month I'd been feeling off. Depressed, tired, angry. And then came the nightmares, which added fearful to the list. I wouldn't eat, then I couldn't eat. I hadn't touched a guitar in what seemed like ages.

"I-I don't know, okay?" I half-whispered, my jaw trembling. I glanced at Mike who was staring at his lap, not wanting to come between Tré and I. I had to admit he looked a little scared himself.

"Bullshit. Tell me the truth, Billie Joe." Tré said sternly. His hard look never softened. I couldn't speak. The bookmobile shook as it hit a bump, making me gasp in surprise. Everything got a reaction out of me these days. It was rather emotionally draining, to be honest. I hated it.

I shook my head and drew a shaky breath. How do you explain depression? You can't. You can't explain it because you don't really know what causes it. In my case, anyway. I knew it was more than just a hormonal imbalance. I knew it was more than just feeling down. I knew it was more than just nightmares. It was something that was rooted right to the core of me. It was starting to become a part of who I was. It was starting to become me. It was me.

"I don't know what to tell you." I whispered. "I just... Don't know." It was the best possible answer I could come up with. It was the only possible answer I could come up with. Tré finally seemed to get it. Almost.

He sighed. "You can't keep lying to us, Billie Joe. Just... Please, tell me. At least... At least if there's anything I can do..." He said, his voice becoming more gentle in the slightest of ways. I shook my head again, which I seemed to be doing a lot lately.

"You can't do anything. Just leave me alone." I said. I sorta felt bad for being so harsh with Tré, but it was the only way I was going to get him to stop trying to help me. He couldn't help me. Somehow, I think he knew that too. He knew that whatever I was dealing with, I had to do it on my own. But if, by the slightest chance, I would need him for something, he'd ask. But I just didn't want his help.

Tré scowled as he looked down at his shoes and turned away from me and back to Mike, who was now suddenly engrossed in a piece of gum on the side of the table. I fumbled with my earphones and stuffed them back into my ears, the sound of heavy guitar blocking everything else out.

I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window and stared out at the road.

I just wished I would be able to make it through that night without humiliating the guys. I doubted my body, and I doubted my mind. I doubted myself. Not only was I supposed to play an hour's worth of songs, but I had to do it with energy. With emotion, and feeling. But that was the problem. I couldn't feel anything. And the worst part was, I had no idea why.

Suddenly, I heard a honk from outside and Tré's dad slammed on the breaks. Tré and Mike turned around quickly to see what was going on, but their heads were blocking the windshield. I stood up quickly to get a better view, and a car was heading straight for us, skidding across the asphalt at impressive speed.

The last thing I remembered was I sickening jolt, falling backwards, and Tré's voice, screaming my name.