Tone Deaf

Chapter Four

Author's Note:

Oh. My. God.
I am so sorry, I cannot even express it. I could tell you all how extremely busy I was and how much I have going on, but I'm not even going to go there 'cause I feel like y'all are ready to kill me anyway. 

The writer's block I have going on is INSANE and it's driving me crazy, but I promise I will try harder to update Tone Deaf as much as I can. Again, I'm so sorry!

I LOVE YOU GUYS.
HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER.

xoxo,
Q.

Devon:

What I really want is for my family to meet me at the airport.

Despite all my complaints, I love them to death, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen them all. I wish I could just walk out of the gate and see them waiting there for me. Then we could go home and I could change into sweatpants and I could eat my mom’s delicious home-cooked food.

There are people waiting for me when I exit out of the baggage claim, but they’re not related to me. Then again, they still are family.

“Devon!”

“Oh my god, it’s actually him!”

“Devon, I love you!”

It’s not too bad. It’s Willhum. There’s only, like, max twenty people. Twenty I can deal with. I smile and wave when I see them, which makes them squeal and flutter amongst themselves. As I walk out, a few of them ask for photos and autographs, which I provide with a smile, though I’m really tired and eager for a nap.

I see one of the uniformed drivers holding up a plaque with D. PINE on it in neat Sharpie handwriting. I walk towards him, feeling relieved, and he greets me politely and offers to take my bag.

When I lived here in Willhum, right as I first started working with Razor, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. L.A was so glamorous and far away for me at the time, and I was dying to be there, surrounded by all the sunshine and fame and all that. But now, it’s actually nice to come home and take a break from everything. When I decided to come visit this time, I only told my mom, mostly because I really want to surprise my little sister, Ellie.

Leaving Ellie behind was probably the hardest part about moving to L.A. I mean, she’s my little sister, and we’ve always been close growing up. I almost wanted to steal her away and take her to Los Angeles with me, but the logical part of my brain knew that that wasn’t an option.

In the car on the way back, I eagerly gaze out the window, staring at all the simple things—like Jim’s Diner, where I spent all of my weekends at with my friends, or the local Wal-Mart, that I got kicked out of once for riding around in their shopping carts.

Now that I’ve lived in L.A for about two years, I’m actually starting to miss Willhum, though I never thought in a million years I’d ever say that.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I love everything about my life; I wouldn’t switch it for the world. But sometimes, it’s nice to think about the simple things, like hanging out at the diner with my friends, as opposed to going to a big party and being asked a hundred questions that I really don’t want to answer.

So, what I’m trying to say, I guess, is that it’s understandable why I’m so excited about going home to the Nowheresville I come from.

Or maybe I’m just trying to make it seem less insane, because there’s a voice in my head—that sounds suspiciously like J-Pow—that keeps yelling at me, “you don’t belong here!”, “you need to be in LA”, “go back to where you belong!”.