Prank Calls | D.R.

Chapter 9

Drew's POV

     I look in the mirror. The same brown eyes I know stare back at me. The same blank expression I've come to know is being shown to me. The bags under my eyes being brought up to me stand out. Other than those bags, I still look like the old me. On the outside I'm the same, but I can't be the same on the inside.

     I've been sobbing in my room for over an hour. I don't want to leave this band. I don't want to get in fights with my band members, but my idiotic self makes myself do it anyways. This band is all I have now. I can't loose it.

      When my phone rings, my instinct is to scream, cry, and chuck it at the wall, but I can't. Management is probably calling, and they won't get me another phone. With a sigh, I pick it up.

     "What the hell do you want?" the words come out sharper than intended, the pure pain in my voice radiated through anger.

      "Where do babies come from?" Of course, of course this is who just manages to call me when I'm at my worst. Of course the one person who can push my buttons my than anyone else decides to call. The worst part, I still don't know her name.

      "I'm not in the mood," I growl.

      "Drew? Are you okay? You seem more pissed off than usual," her voice gets softer, treading with caution.

     "I can't deal with your bull right now," I rest my head against the wall, gazing into the mirror again.

      "Talk to me Drew. Let it out."

       "You wouldn't understand. You couldn't understand," I scoff. It's impossible for her to understand.

     "You'd be surprised," she laughs quietly to herself.

       "Really? I doubt you were told by one of your band members that it would be easier if you weren't even in the goddamn group!" I throw the nearest object at a wall. I don't even care enough to look what it is.

      "Drew, I'm sorry I assumed I could relate," she quickly says in a calm, soothing voice. "Close your eyes."

       "What?" I snap.

      "Close your eyes." She's still unbelievably calm. Instead of fighting it, I close my eyes.

       "Done."

       "Now say the alphabet out loud."

       "You're kidding me."

       "Say it."

        "A b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z."

       "Okay. Now count to 69." I can't help but smile a little.

      "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine."

      "Spell out your bandmates' first and last names."

     "Brady Tutton: B r a d y T u t t o n. Chance Perez: C h a n c e P e r e z. Michael Conor: M i c h a e l C o n o r. Sergio Calderon: S e r g i o C a l d e r o n."