Warped

Chapter Four

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I bet it was certainly a change after recieving an update every few days. I really meant to get it done sooner, but things came up (a broken hand and surgery being some). However my surgery went well and everything has healed very nicely and I can type again! Anyways, I hope you like it!

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I sat in the car, all of my things packed and ready to go. Everything was in order for the now-scheduled trip and I was finally about to have my chance to get everything I wanted. My dreams had been basically handed to me on a silver platter. So why couldn't I budge?

I stared at the entrance to the hotel that I had left the prior morning and then at the bus out front. I began to convince myself that now was the time to get moving so that I wouldn't get left behind, but my palms started to sweat and my heart began to race. Suddenly, it was like a catalyst had been set off. A long list of pessimistic questions and comments flooded my thoughts. What if I had misunderstood? What if I wasn't really that good? What if I embarrassed myself?

What if I failed?

That single question struck with an uncontrolled echo as soon as it hit. I found myself paralyzed with fear and nervousness all over again. The possibility of failing at the only thing I had really even wanted to do with my life was overwhelming to me. If I ruined this, what would I have left? I wasn't good at anything else, or at least I had never tried to be. I hadn't needed to. The plan was to make music and be happy. So why wasn't I happy yet?

"So are you just going to sit in there all day, or are you going to throw your stuff in the bus,"

I jumped at the sudden sound of a voice so close to me. I turned to see that it was Derrick, looking bored but rather impatient at the same time. I just stared in response. How was I supposed to tell him that I was currently being the biggest sissy known to rock music and having a pre-dream life crisis? The answer was that I wasn't supposed to do that at all. That is, unless I enjoyed being ridiculed and laughed at by a self-involved prima donna.

"You could drive all the way, though. It's not like it matters to me. You could stay, too," He shrugged, "I'm sure that I could find a last-minute replacement."

"No, really, it's okay. We can start loading things," I piped up, getting out of the car as quickly as I could manage, "I'm good."

After that, I used the already lit fire under my butt to get a move on and get my stuff on the bus to avoid getting left behind. The nervousness hadn't subsided a single ounce, but I was going through the motions. Pick up suitcase. Walk into bus. Put suitcase down. Lather, rinse, repeat. My body had been temporarily liberated, but my mind was still blank as could be. I tried to think positive. My dreams were coming true! I was going to be on stage! I was so scared.

My worries began to hibernate as I watched my car move away in the window. My mom would be by later to come get my car. She had been so happy to do me the favor. Her baby was going on tour.

“It’s kind of scary at first, but it gets better,” Max sat down next to me on the leather couch.

I tried to feign ignorance, “What makes you think that I’m afraid?”

I could see him start to laugh at me and then stop himself, “You haven’t said a word since you got out of your car and you’re paler than Derrick.”

I watched as Derrick passed by just in time to give his bandmate a well-deserved middle finger.

“I’m a little scared, I guess. What if I screw this up?” I wondered aloud..

Max shrugged, relaxed and cool. He wasn’t high strung at all, from the looks of it. It seemed like he really loved what he did, too. He ran a hand through his inky-black hair and then nodded. could tell that he’d been where I was now. The thought sort of calmed me. If he could be this cool about it now, then maybe I could be, too?

“I get it. It’s your chance, you know? But if you heard what the rest of us did, you wouldn’t even let that thought cross your mind. You were awesome. You made it sound so easy and effortless.” He reassured me.

I nodded, quiet again. They all kept telling me how good I sounded. They didn’t even have a reason to lie, right? If I sucked, then they wouldn’t be taking this chance on me. I did the rest of the reassurance mentally and nodded again, “You’re right.”

Max laughed and relaxed into the couch a little more, “Of course, I’m right. You’re gonna have a blast, but get some rest. You’re gonna need it tomorrow.”

The plan was to spend the next several hours alternating between sleeping, watching TV or staring absently out the window. The terrain changed from cityscape to forest before I dozed off the first time for lack of anything constructive to do. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in on the little couch. As I got up, I saw max roll over in his own slumber and sprawl out to consume the space that I had just occupied a moment before. I was beginning to see that this was what a lot of touring really was.

Making my way to the fridge, I peered inside to find an abundance of junk food crammed inside. The cupboard looked about the same, as well. After a little bit of digging, I managed to find some bread, condiments and turkey meat to make into a sandwich. Once I turned around, ready to head back to my seat and eat I saw Dustin staring at me as if he’d just discovered something magnificent.

“Are you ok, dude?” I asked.

“Oh my god, we can have real food now! You can cook?” He exclaimed excitedly.

I nearly choked on a bite of my sandwich as I laughed, “Not unless you guys want to live on sandwiches and cereal. I can barely boil water.”

He looked at me in utter confusion, “But you’re a girl.”

Just then, Caleb exited the bathroom, “It’s ok dude. It happens. Your girlfriend is a lousy cook, too.”

Dustin looked genuinely upset at this point, “Yeah, but what are the odds of meeting two of them in a lifetime? What is society coming to?”

The rest of us laughed at the distraught percussionist. Clearly, he really was tired of microwave food and McDonalds, and I didn’t blame him. But I couldn’t figure out a few things.

“If you guys can afford a presidential suite, how come you guys can’t just go out to good places for food?” I wondered, “Why the junk?”

Derrick responded, “We’ve got a little thing called a budget. Plus, that was an anomaly. We actually don’t get to do that much during a tour. We’re better off than a lot of the bands, but you should probably figure on a Super 8 next time. Plus, our manager knows the guy who runs that Hilton. The label picked up the tab that time.”

I nodded and pretended to understand, but I really didn’t. This whole thing was so foreign to me. I may have been a musician living in L.A, but I had never even slightly been exposed to the industry that went along with it. Heck, I’d hardly played at more than a trendy coffee shop or two. I didn’t want to dwell on it, though. The easiest thing to do was finish my food and claim the opposite couch of Max and fall back asleep.