Groupie to Girlfriend: Indulgence | Zach Abels

That One Song

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. My room was bright, a Saturday morning kind of bright, because of the warm sun shining all throughout it, even though it was a cold winter. My dad must have opened up the curtains so I'd wake up in time to get ready for my little brother's birthday party. I resented my dad when he did that, because I'd usually have my alarm clock set for another twenty minutes, but not that day. I didn't care enough that day, about his birthday party or just plain waking up at all. If I could have slept for the next few years of my life, I would have, or at least until I graduated from high school five months later.

When I sat up, I was immediately blinded by the sun because of the reflection in my mirror. I closed my eyes and laid back down. My phone made the tri-tone noise because I got a text. I grabbed my phone off of my nightstand and read the text. It was from my best friend, Macy, who had been my friend since kindergarten. The text said, "You better be coming to my house tonight." "I am. After the party." I replied and set the phone back down.

I heard heavy knocking on my bedroom door. My dad opened it and yelled, "Get up now! The party's in an hour." I groaned and responded, "No it's not! It's only seven-twenty!" "You still need to get up now." He assured. I got up and went to the bathroom. I turned the hot water on in my shower.

As I waited for it to get hot, I recollected what happened the previous night. My ex-boyfriend, Samuel, texted me, telling me he was coming back to town for a visit. I really did not want him to come back to visit, because let's just say he was my ex for a reason. He used to live in my neighborhood, and that's how we met, but he had recently moved to Louisiana to live with his aunt and uncle. That was one of the best things to happen to me in a while.

I put my hand under the water to find it was already hot. I got in the shower and let my dark brown hair soak as I thought about a million ways my life could be better. After 30 minutes, I got out of the shower and got dressed for the party.

I went downstairs and looked at the time on the stove to see it was only eight o'clock. My dad was fixing the loose shelf in the pantry with a drill. Competing with the loud noise, I asked, "Did mom make breakfast?" He quit drilling to answer, "Yeah, an hour ago. If you were up you could have eaten! You'll have to wait until lunch." "Whatever." I responded. "You need to put away the dishes, now." He demanded.

I sighed and opened the dishwasher. As I put them away, dish by dish, I sang "Loyal" by Chris Brown. I was a pretty good singer, and a pianist too, since I had been playing for over ten years.

My dad yelled at me for singing an "inappropriate song" and reminded me to be on my best behavior when the guests arrived.

I spent the rest of the time before the party listening to music. Hip Hop was my favorite genre. I wasn't very open-minded when it came to music, so the music I listened to was limited.

I put the last bowl of candy out on the table when the first guest arrived.

I stood at the door and greeted our guests, smiling and shaking hands, for about fifteen minutes.

We lived in a small town in Illinois, just outside of Chicago. Most of my little brother, Carson's, friends lived in the city, so they were a little bit late because of the traffic.

The children played games and ate candy the entire time. Just when I thought it was going well, it all turned around quickly.

My dad, Mrs. Galloway, and I, sat at the kitchen table while my mom made up the goodie bags. Mrs. Galloway's son was Timothy, Carson's bestfriend.

Mrs. Galloway had been coming over to our house for almost three years, since Carson and Timothy had met in kindergarten. Ever since then they had play dates every weekend it seemed like. Not once in those three years had she failed to patronize me, including the night of Carson's eighth birthday party. I still thought Carson was a bit too old to be playing the games he was playing, but we just let his imagination run free, and his fairytale childhood last as long as it could before reality hit him.

"I heard you got an early acceptance into NYU, are you excited to be going off to college?" Mrs. Galloway asked me. "I can't wait to go to college!" I replied. "Yeah, Anne and I are excited too! She never does anything around the house. Anne and I work our butts off!" My dad complained. "Oh, now Theodore! You'll upset Rosalina!" Mrs. Galloway responded.

There it was, my name. She always called me by my real name. Well, my real name was Rosalina-Bianca Lawson. When I was born, my mom liked the names Rosalina and Bianca equally. She wasn't sure which name she wanted my middle name to be, so she just kinda threw them together while she was in labor, and that became my name. I wasn't too fond of having a long first name, so I told everyone my name was Rosie, and that's what I had been called since second grade.

"Mom and I are the only ones with jobs, and whenever mom gets home, all she does is sit on her laptop and drown her problems in wine. I'm sorry if I have school, and a job, and a lot of stress on me as I'm about to become a new, independent adult, but at least I do the chores!" I assured. "At least..." My dad grumbled.

At that second, I got a text from Macy saying she was parked in our driveway. She came to our house unplanned, but I didn't mind at all.

"Whatever... I don't want to deal with you anymore and I don't want to be a around a bunch of kids anymore." I concluded.

I grabbed my phone and my jacket, walked outside, and left with Macy.

Macy was a slow driver... She went the speed limit. "Is this as fast as you can drive?" I mocked. "No!" She responded. We listened to Hip Hop music on the way to her house. Music was one of the many things we had in common.

After 15 minutes of driving the speed limit, we got to her house. We immediately went to her bedroom, which was covered in band posters. She also listened to rock music, but I didn't quite as much.

She put vinyl records in her wooden record player, and we listened to Indie Rock as we laid on the bed, talking and staring at the poster-covered walls.

"I'm going to miss you when we go to college." She cried. "Me too. I can't believe we're going to be on opposite sides of the country!" I exclaimed. "I know, it's so sad. Especially after all these years..." She added. There was silence between us. Then, a song came on, a song I actually liked. I didn't know who it was by or what the name was, but I really liked it.

I guess I forgot to ask her, because when I got home that night, I searched hard for it on my phone. I couldn't find it, so I called her. "What was that one song you were playing today, in your room?" I asked. "I don't know, there are a lot of songs. Do you remember which record?" She questioned. "I think it was the second one you played." I replied. "Oh, it's by The 1975." She commented. "Okay, thank you." I concluded, then hung up.

I looked at all of the songs by The 1975 and finally found it. It was called "The City" and was my new favorite song!

I listened to The 1975 nonstop, and even some other Indie Rock bands. I discovered a band called The Neighbourhood and soon fell in love with them. I became one of their fans, a "Hoodlum" was what they're fans were called.

By the time it was Saturday again, I knew almost everything about The Neighbourhood. They're past experiences, favorite things, and other things I didn't even think I'd find out!

That night, I was eating pizza for dinner on the couch, and I got an amazing idea. I wanted to go to a concert with Macy, specifically to a Neighbourhood concert. So, I googled their tour, and saw that they were performing in Chicago the following Friday.

I called Macy to ask her if she wanted to go and she said she did but the tickets were sold out. I googled the tickets and found a seller, but they raised the price to $100. I negotiated with the seller and bought them for $85. Although I spent nearly half of my last pay check, I was the happiest I had been in a while.

When my dad walked in through the door, my happiness went out. He was the only thing standing in the way between me and the concert. I knew that when I would ask him if I could go, he'd say, "No!" I tried my very best to reason with him, but he just would not give in.

The next week, I went to school from 8:30 to 3:00 and worked from 3:30 to 6:00. I worked at a café down the road from my school. It got a lot of business, which meant I got a lot of tips. Unfortunately, I was still working minimum wage, but I didn't worry about paying for college since I earned a full-payed scholarship in English.

When Friday came, there was no way I was going to stay at home while The Neighbourhood was performing in Chicago. So, I did what I had to do. I snuck out of the house.