Young and Loaded

Chapter Four

   I gripped the mic stand mercilessly, a scowl crawling onto my face. This was the seventh time we were redoing this one stupid song because Ghoul of all people couldn't seem to start at the right time. And without him to queue me in, there was no way for me to know when to start singing.

   We were at the venue, finally. It wasn't much more than a ramshackle, bombed out warehouse with a shitty stage that creaked every time you breathed on it, but it was strangely familiar. Calming. Normal. Minus Ghoul constantly missing his queue, it felt like we were a band during the wars again, secretly rehearsing one more time before another protest concert, an accumulation of rebel forces waiting for us to finish soundcheck so that we could get on with the pep rally of a show.

   The annoyed voice of the killjoy doing sound check echoed through the warehouse. "From the top," she said, cupping her lips so we could hear her. She'd introduced herself as Arsenic, and I'd chosen to call her Arse instead. Because that's what she was. Mostly because she was being incredibly impatient and bitchy with us, but then again, Ghoul was missing his queue again and again. It was even driving me insane. And usually I could tolerate his antics.

   Moments later, the lights changed back to a blue-ish glow. I looked down, tapping my foot as an intro because we had no drummer. Then Jet started to play his part, joined by Kobra moments later, and finally, Ghoul got his queue.

   Words poured from my lips into the mic and out into the world, filling the makeshift stadium. It arched and soared over the ground, blaring from shitty, patched together speakers. And no one messed up, not even once. Not even me. And I sometimes have a couple small pauses because of the heat of the moment and the sweat dripping down my skin.

   When we finished the song, I looked back to find someone seated at the drums, twirling drum sticks. Painfully inexperienced onstage but incredibly adorable and talented, I realized it was Grace, her head of curly hair only just peeking out above the cymbals. But she could play like hell, obviously aiding Ghoul in his queue. So that's why he didn't fuck up this time around.

   I hadn't even noticed that someone was playing the drums. Maybe I got too into the song.

   I flashed Grace a grin, and she returned it, throwing her hand up in the air and beating the sticks together. She was giggling like mad, and it made me swell with immense happiness. I saw Ghoul out of the corner of my eye blow her a little kiss, and the smile on my face dropped as I thought of her future. Would she play with us tonight? She'd probably find a way to do it. Just for the thrill of it. But would it help her in her journey? Where had she even learned how to play the drums? Maybe it was from our old band member. Team member. It's a shame he got... killed.

   "Are we done yet?" came the groan of the killjoy in the sound booth, looking up to us. I gave her a small nod and she stood up, stalking out of the warehouse after telling us to be there by sundown. Which was perfectly okay with the all of us. I mean, Kobra and Jet didn't have to deal with their mission until tomorrow. And Ghoul and I weren't exactly going to try to fix shit any time soon.

   Speaking of Ghoul, he'd stopped making little faces at Grace and was instead lookin to me, a serious look replacing the strange and fun ones. He nodded to me before placing his guitar down on the stand provided, going backstage. Backstage was where the Green Room was, I remembered. That was the little room meant to hold the bands and sweaty killjoys who called themselves bands that night or any time they had an event here. And it was the last place I wanted to go. Alone, that is. Alone with him.

   I'd just have to suck it up.

   I waited a couple minutes, watching Kobra and Jet talk, Grace eventually joining the two of them. They were lucky that they could talk to each other without screaming. But eventually, I left the mic on the stand, collecting my thoughts and doubts, before disappearing behind the stage curtain, going to the Green Room in the back. And probably entering another screaming match.