As July became August, it seemed like my parents were avoiding conversation with me. I could tell they were worried, and I figured it was probably because Mrs. Spangler had told them what had happened. I wondered what she had said to them, what words had come to her mind to explain it. Insane? Unbalanced? She had to have told them about the blood, and the way I had laughed. I guess my parents didn’t know what to say to me about it, how to ask me anything. I had told them that I’d had an argument with a customer and that’s why I had been fired. Then that evening the phone had rung. And then they had talked in low voices. And then we didn’t speak of it again.
Which was fine by me. I hadn’t wanted a summer job anyway. It pleased me that they didn’t confront me about it, but it was another reminder that I really had to keep that sort of thing under wraps. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. It would only end up limiting me and flagging me to people. It was a mistake to have laughed. I should have played it all off like an accident, and that way, only the asshole would have been weirded out by me.
xXx
Fern, Edgar, Socks, and I finally had the twelve final mixes. I showed them the drawing I had done the night of the vocal recording, and though they didn’t see the deeper meaning I had put into it, they loved it. Fern wanted to use it for the CD cover, and everyone agreed. They even liked Scream into This for the album name. I was proud. We scanned it into the computer. One weekend we all dressed up and Yvonne took a picture of us standing against a brick wall, looking appropriately sullen and evil, for the inside of the CD jacket.
Now all we had to do was get the damn thing manufactured. Which was going to be costly. Edgar’s parents loaned us the money, which we assured them we would pay back as quickly as we could. We decided to only get two hundred printed up, which seemed like a small amount, but of course no one even knew who we were, so who knew if it would end up being too many?
xXx
Fern called me one evening towards the end of the summer. “So I just got off the phone with Socks,” she said excitedly. “Check it out. Ken has some friends in a band, they’re metal. They’re called Torn Bowel, apparently nice guys. They’re from Port Claim.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Well, they’re going on a tour the week before school starts. Just a short thing, four shows around the province. They were going to go with some other band, but one of those guys broke his leg so they had to cancel.”
“Okay?”
“So I guess Ken recommended us to them. And they’d like us to go on the tour.”
“Shit, really? A tour?”
“Well, only four shows,” Fern said, but I could hear the excitement in her voice too.
The four of us met the next afternoon at the tea shop. Socks told us the details. He figured we could take the van with the gear and all of us share a hotel room each night. We could sell some of our CDs, hopefully, and make a bit of money to pay for gas and the hotels. We weren’t going to be paid to do the shows, but that was okay because apparently Torn Bowel was getting pretty popular, so it would be good exposure for us.
“They’re not a big band, but I guess people are starting to like them,” he said. “I think it would be a good idea to go with them. Ken says they’re nice guys too, so it should be fun.”
“Do you guys feel like we’re ready to play four shows in a row?” Edgar asked. I figured he was probably reminiscing about the only other show we’d done and how badly it had gone.
“I feel like we can definitely do it,” Fern said confidently.
“We just have to remember to keep the energy up,” I added. “I feel like all of us probably learned from last time. I know I totally did.”
“All right then. You guys talk to your parents tonight and make sure they’re cool with it,” Socks said. “Once you find out, call me, and I’ll call these guys and let them know we’re in.”
xXx
“You are too young to go on a tour,” my father said with a tone of finality in his voice. “You are still in high school. This whole thing is ridiculous.”
“I’m not a little kid,” I whined lamely, hating the sound of my voice. Melissa kept her eyes on her dinner plate.
“You can’t be serious about this. Do you know what happens on rock tours?”
“Dad, it isn’t like that. It’s just four shows, everyone’s nice, nobody does drugs, nothing like that. It’s just a chance to play our music for people. Everyone’s going to be super careful and it’s less than a week anyways!”