Mean Girls Missing

20

May 22

3:13 pm

Samantha

More gifts from Arnie today. He must've stopped by while we were sleeping because neither of us heard the hatch open or shut. When we stalked into the kitchen, he left us a stack of CDs on the dining table with a note:

My darlings, I must work a double and therefore will not see you until tomorrow. Accept this gift in the meantime and enjoy. – Arnie

There were two more albums for us. Both had yellow clearance stickers marking them at five dollars each. Wow. Big spender. Steph and I investigated the covers and the pamphlet inside but we couldn't recognize either of the bands.

"This is country for sure," Steph repeated several hours later. We were lying on our stomachs in the bedroom. The CD player was plugged into the wall but we couldn't decide what to play.

Steph was holding a dim blue album. Rascal Flatts. On the cover, three men were photographed wearing jeans and what appeared to be cowboy boots.

"Me and My Gang," I read. I cringed. "Yikes. I think you're right."

"I am. He Ain't the Leavin' Kind. I mean, does it get any more obvious?" Steph laughed shortly before setting it on the ground. "I vote that we ignore this gift and never listen to it."

"I second that."

"What's the other album again?" she asked.

I reached behind me and grabbed it. It was white with two old men on the cover. Maybe polka or jazz music.

"Twenty One Pilots," I answered. I flipped it over. "Only twelve songs. I've never heard of them."

Steph cringed as well. "Oof, there's elderly men on it. What kind of shit does Arnie think we listen to?"

I laughed. "I know. Didn't we give him a list?"

"Vessel," Steph said the name slowly. Her face was horrified. "Ugh. Does that mean, like, a blood vessel or something?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Steph." I read through the song titles. "Okay, you know what. I want to listen to this. Some of these sound interesting."

"Read me some."

"Ode to Sleep. Guns for Hands."

"Guns for hands?" Steph gasped. "Jesus, that's alarming."

"Come on. Let's just listen to the first one. If you hate it, we'll turn it off. Okay?"

I had already popped the disc into the player. My finger hovered over the play button, waiting for Steph to agree. She sighed and gestured for me to go ahead and get the damage over with. I pressed the button. The CD player buzzed for a few seconds before the track started.

The intro was creepy. Heavy drums and another musical instrument I couldn't name. Once the words started playing, Steph and I shared a look. Neither of us expected this to be good.

But it was. The artist wasn't just a singer. He also rapped. The combination was perfect. He knew when the lines should be sang and when they needed to be spoken. The first song was so catchy that Steph and I grabbed the pamphlet so we could sing along. The more I read ahead in the lyrics, the more I loved what I was listening to.

I hadn't heard music quite like this. Artists who actually write meaningful music about real life stuff. Depression. Anxiety. Fear. I heard the pain in his voice while he performed. My jaw could have detached from my skull. That's how much it kept dropping.