Growing Pains

Chapter Ten

Trent

"That set lacked luster. It needed to sparkle and instead it just dissolved into the wind like sand. I knew we shouldn't have cut my beatboxing," Harold added the last part with a bit of a mumble. We had been practicing our songs for the last two hours—freshening up for another gig at Howie's tomorrow—and it was starting to get late. Justin kept complaining about his throat being sore, so we decided to take a break and order some pizza.

And that's what we were doing right now. We were all eating pizza and sitting around on the garage's eclectic furniture—my mom liked shopping at flea markets. We had been at work all day, given that it was our Thanksgiving "break"—aka the four days off our high school decided to give us, given that it hated to give its students any sort of break. I was glad that all the guys were in town—Thanksgiving was yesterday—to practice, so I pounced on the opportunity to work out a few of our kinks.

"Harold, please never say that again," Justin responded.

Harold grunted, "Fine, but this right here"—he gestured to our faces, which were unmoved by his statement—"is the reason why our lyrics don't sparkle." Justin rolled his eyes and continued to munch on his pizza.

"Our lyrics are pretty sparkly, at least, I think so," Cody chimed in with an awkward chuckle.

"But there's no emotional backstory behind each word. How am I supposed to perform that kind of stuff?" Harold complained.

"Hey! I write those lyrics," Justin shot back. Even though I was mostly known for writing the songs, I let it slide.

"Well, they're not very good," Harold mumbled loud enough for us to hear. I wondered if I should've been hurt, but I decided I just didn't care.

I butted in before their bickering could escalate any further, "Guys, we need to focus on taking our band to the next level. I'm talking managers and recording studios. We need to find a way to get seen by a larger audience. It's time the world knows who The Drama Brothers are."

I had been chewing on the idea for awhile. I almost brought it up to Gwen in the car the other day, but she looked so freaked out that I thought better of it. Granted, I should've led talking about the band instead of being so cryptic, so I didn't blame her for the freak out.

Cody nodded his head sharply, "Yeah, it's time we make our names mean something."

Harold pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said, "This is all well and good, but how are we supposed to find these people? We're just a couple of teenagers in some random small town. It's not like we live in LA."

Justin pursed his lips, "I could get in touch with one of my managers. They might know someone."

I gestured at Justin and smiled at Harold, "See, that's how."

Cody tapped his drumstick on the beat-up coffee table in a jittery rhythm, "Okay, Okay. So, let's say we get representation, that means we need to produce an album."

I smiled, "Then let's get to it."

Harold stood up, "Hold on, aren't we being a bit premature with this whole situation? How do we even know if we'll get a manager or whatever?"

Justin smirked, "Trust me. I have people in very high places."

I looked at Harold, willing my voice to be authoritative, "We have to try. If we don't, we might regret not trying our whole lives." I looked around at each of them, "We can't do this half-assed. If we're going for it, then we're going all in. We are just as talented as the rest of those boy bands, so I say we go for it. Are you guys with me?" They each shared a look then turned to me and smiled, giving me the answer I needed.

I stood up, "Alright then, let's write this album."

We buckled down until the sun was long set and the hours trickled further and further into the night. Cody left first, after his mother kept calling him and barking about how he needed to come home. Next was Harold and Justin didn't stay too long after him, pausing only to say that he would let me know as soon as his manager got back to him.

I wandered into the kitchen to clean out our cups and toss out our paper plates, only to find my mom with her head bent over a pile of paper work. I turned on the faucet, watching as the noise caused her to jump. She looked over her shoulder, removing her glasses from the bridge of her nose as she sent me a tired smile.

"Did the boys leave?" She asked, rubbing her temples. There was a weariness settled behind her eyes, one that I was familiar with around this season. She worked in marketing for a candle company, and the holidays were her busiest season. There were some nights where she didn't go to bed because she was too busy with images and fonts to sleep.

My dad was a good enough man to pay child support, which my mom allowed me to use some for any band funding. But, it was my mom who really supported me. She worked her tail off for me to be happy. It was a kindness I would never forget.

In fact, It only made me want to pull it together and work twice as hard. That's why this band needed to be successful. I didn't want to see another streak of grey in her dark hair anytime soon.

"Yeah, they left a bit ago," I said as I started to dry the cups.

"Did you have fun?" She asked, turning her body so that her arm was now hanging off the back of her chair.

I shrugged, "Yeah, I always do. I think they're ready to take it to the next level, which is important if we ever want to become something."

She offered me a smile, but it was too tired to have its typical sparkly effect. "Good, I'm glad. How's Gwen?"

I involuntarily smiled at her question. "She's doing well. Her art teacher just agreed to let her be a TA next semester, so she's pretty pumped about that."

"And you?" She asked, biting her lip with genuine concern. There was guilt written across her features, which I hated. I knew she thought that she didn't allow enough time for me, but not for a single second did I blame her. She was involved in my life, not my dad who up and left us.

I brushed her off with a wave of my hand. "I'm doing just fine, mom. Don't you worry about me." She offered me a meek smile before returning to her work with a weary sigh. I wandered over, kissing her cheek before saying, "Goodnight, don't stay up too late."

"I won't, I won't." She responded, even though we both knew she would.

I walked down the hall to my room, stopping once to look behind and see my mother hunched over her paperwork. I really hoped that Justin's connections came through, and that the Fates allowed us some stroke of luck. I prayed they offered that kindness, not for me, but for my mother who gave up everything to keep us comfortable.

As I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, my mind spun with prayers that all asked for that same thing.