Two high school misfits who hate each other. One music competition where they have to work together. Can their love of classic 80s rock unite them?
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High...
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Side A: Oz
Mom drives me over to Lock's house bright and early. "Are you sure your friend's parents don't mind listening to all that noise – I mean, your loud music?" she asks, pulling into the Dunkin Donuts drive-through. Part of how I bribed her to be ready to leave the house at eight a.m. was that I would buy her breakfast.
"His mom's a lesbian," I tell her, like this explains everything.
A tinny voice pipes through the drive-through speaker, and Mom shouts, "I'll have a large caramel latte with a turbo shot."
"Shit, Mom, you're gonna be on a caffeine high all day!"
Mom turns to say, "Don't say shit," then returns to her order. "And I'll have a maple bacon egg and cheese sandwich on a bagel." Back to me, "Do you want anything?"
"I'll have the same."
I'll need the energy. I picture a line of auditioners down Lock's driveway, hours spent listening to beginners plucking away on untuned instruments. There will definitely be a ton of people trying out - I put the flyers up all over school and also at the coffee house and the music store. I just hope some real talent shows up.
At Lock's house I hop out of the car, already feeling a buzz from two sips of my latte. Mom pops the trunk and waits for me to haul my guitar and amp out. She speeds off before I'm halfway up the walk. She must have a long day of cleaning planned, she's been watching that organizing show on Netflix and I keep finding my clothes folded like weird envelopes in my drawers.
Rather than haul my stuff up to the front door, I find a dry spot on the driveway near the garage door and carefully set it on the ground. Free of that weight, I bound up to the door and ring the bell.
And wait.
I try again, leaning into the bell this time. The birds are chirping and the neighborhood is quiet. It's mostly trees out here, big stretches of woods between the houses. I hate that we have to live in such a crowded neighborhood. That old lady next door comes over every freaking day while I'm playing my music after school. I just ignore her now.
The auditions start at 11, so I expected Lock to be ready. I check my phone. It's 8:30 already! I wanted to jam with Lock to make sure we really vibed – it would suck if I had to find another drummer.
After ringing the bell again with no answer, I text Lock.
Here
Nothing. The seconds crawl by. I'm glad I have this hot coffee to warm me up.
Hey dickhead I'm standing outside your house freezing my ass off
Nothing.
I could hear the doorbell ringing, but in case they can't hear it inside, somehow, I pound on the door.
