Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Staccato

Renegades // X Ambassadors

EMERSON

I'm pacing in my room while running my hand through my hair repeatedly and I'm sure it's sticking up in every direction, but I could give a fuck. I don't want to let Zoe down. I can't. The thought of disappointing her, again, makes me physically sick.

I don't know what I was thinking, seriously I must have been riding such a high from the fact that Zoe was actually talking to me I momentarily lost my mind. I can't believe I told Zoe with absolute confidence that we could eliminate Dylan from the band. The band is named after that fucker, how the hell can we expect to push him out of it?

Not us, me. I was the one that supposedly had a plan of action. But there is no plan. I was talking out of my ass. I was trying to impress the girl I've been crazy about since I first laid eyes on her. And this seemed like the one thing we might have in common. The one way for us to truly bond by working together to rid ourselves of that asshole, Dylan. Boot his ass from the band. But now I'm standing here in a panic with not one single idea. My mind is a big dial tone. How the hell can we dynamite Dylan out of that drummers' seat?

I stop my pacing, but I'm seriously considering hyperventilating. Which is a new one on me. I'm usually not the type to panic during a crisis. But dammit I've got one shot with this girl, finally one shot where she has agreed to work together with me on something. Shit, she is actually talking to me. And if I blow this...shit I can'tblow this.

Here I am in full panic mode when Helga, our newest housekeeper, decides to come in to drop off my clean laundry.

Shit, I must have forgotten to lock the door. That's how out of it I am. When I'm at home in my room that door remains locked with hopes the parentals will leave me alone. It works 99 percent of the time.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I say and Helga starts to back out of the room, clearly embarrassed to barge in on me.

I wave her off. "It's fine. Just drop it on the bed. I can put everything away."

Helga's face pales and she shakes her head. "No, no. That's my job. I'll just come back later."

That's the Emmet Russe effect. My dad is a hard ass on everyone, not just his only son. It's why we go through housekeepers so often. He either fires them when they forget the mint on his pillow, or they quit due to work related stress, aka the 'working with Emmet Russ post-traumatic stress syndrome'. Wonder how many of our old housekeepers are in therapy at this very moment or on valium trying to get over the days, weeks—sometimes-but seldom—months they worked for my dad.

Helga has not been here long, but I recognize that glint in her eyes every time my dad shouts an order in her direction. Helga is a woman who is working on a plan of escape. And I honestly don't blame her.

As she's backing out, she must suddenly notice my appearance. My hair sticking up in all directions, thanks to my new hair putty, I'm sweating from all the pacing I've been doing and I'm a bit green after eating some funky school snack Helga made for me. I'm still not sure what the hell it was, but it did not go down too well.

Helga is giving me a look full of concern. "Are you alright, sir? Should I inform your mother that you're ill?"

"No!" I demand as square my shoulders stepping closer to her. "I'm fine. Just...exercising." I pump my arms up and down and raise my knees a few times. Okay, it's the worst excuse ever since I'm in street clothes and in my room, but it's the best I can do in such short notice.

Helga nods her head slowly. I don't think she believes me, but she's not pushing things.

I try to give her a reassuring smile. I hope she realizes I'm nothing like my father. I wouldn't put her job at risk because she forgot to knock.