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Playlist Love

Chapter 7

“I can sabotage me by myself.”

---

“You’re fucking useless!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me!”

“Then don’t be fucking useless.”

I sighed and threw my head back onto the pillows on Vic’s bed. We were in his room working on our music appreciation project. He was frustrated with me for a dumb reason.

“Seriously,” he said, “can’t you do anything?”

“That’s the last time you’re gonna talk to me like that,” I said sternly.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. I sighed again. I didn’t want to get into this with him, not when we had been going at it for the last twenty minutes.

Vic and I hadn’t gotten any actual work done. We spent two minutes talking about what we wanted to do; the last eighteen involved him yelling at me because I told him I didn’t play any instruments, which was a requirement for the project.

“I don’t get why I can’t just sing,” I said as I stared at the ceiling.

“Because I want this to be good,” Vic answered as if it were the obvious conclusion. I rolled my eyes and I focused on the slowly moving fan circling overhead. “Are you sure you can’t play any instruments?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if I knew how to play something.”

“You know, you don’t have to be such a little shit.”

“And you don’t have to be such a jerk,” I said, sitting up so I could face him.

“I’m just trying to get this started.”

“No, you’re trying to find any way to put me down and I’m not gonna sit here and take it.” He looked at me curiously, as if challenging me to do something, anything. I shook my head and gathered my things. There was no point working with someone who obviously didn’t want me there.

“Wait, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Leaving. You can come up with whatever idea you want, just let me in on it before the due date. Thanks.”

“Wait,” he called out to me as I reached the door. I turned around. “Stay.”

“I’m not some pet you can order around.”

“I know. Just…stay.”

I looked at him curiously. He had a look of desperation on his face, one that I’d never seen before. He must have noticed that I saw that look because he immediately changed it to the stoic one I’d grown to know.

“Fine, I’ll stay.” I put my bag by the door and looked at him. “But this is staying right here,” I said, pointing to the bag. “As soon as you say one thing out of line I’m leaving.” He gave me a look but nodded, not saying another word on the subject. That was good enough for me. I went back to his bed and sat down.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“I think we should start with a genre. We can figure the rest out from there.” I nodded in agreement.

“Sounds good. What’s your favorite genre?”

He lightly scratched his chin like actors do in movies when they think. “I guess you can say I like a little bit of everything.”

“There has to be one genre that you like the most.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.”

“What about the least?”

“Country,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“Cool, so a country ballad it is.”

He scrunched up his face in confusion. “What now?”

“Well you don’t know what you like so we’ll go with common ground.”

“You hate country?” I nodded. “Then why the fuck are we gonna write a country song?”

“I literally just explained this to you.”

“No, fuck that!” I held back a giggle. Yes, a giggle. I couldn’t help it; something about that outburst was childlike and made me want to respond in the same way.

“What do you suggest we do then?” I asked.

He thought about it before he snapped his fingers. “You ever heard of Thrice?” I nodded. “Really?”

“Yes,” I said, a little offended.

“Okay, okay, sorry. What other bands do you listen to?”

“Sublime, Third Eye Blind, Blink 182,” I listed off some of my favorites.

“Okay, how about we write a song in those styles?” he suggested.

“How would we do that?”

“You leave that to me,” he said with air of smugness about him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Okay, but what will I do?”

“Look pretty? I don’t know. It’s not like you play any instruments.”

“How ‘bout I sing?”

“Really?” he asked. This time I rolled my eyes. “No offense but you don’t look like the type. I mean, you do but you don’t.”

“Like what type?”

“You know…”

“No, I don’t,” I challenged.

“Not important. You want something to drink?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. I was about to continue the conversation but he had already opened the door.

“I’m good,” I said through gritted teeth. He shrugged and walked out the room, leaving me fuming over his last comment.

What type was I? What type wasn’t I? Did he mean gay? How could he have known that I was gay? It’s not like I told anyone. The only person I had ever come out was my mom but she never told anyone; she wasn’t like that. She never even told Rick. I never really figured out why she didn’t but I appreciated it.

I sat there freaking out. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my sexuality; I just didn’t want to be known as the gay kid. I’d just gotten to the school. Now the biggest jackass in the school knew and would most likely tell everyone. I needed to get out of there.

I rushed to the door and picked up my bag. I was already out of the room and down the hall when Mike walked out of a room.

“Hey bro, where you going?”

“Uh, I’ve gotta go home,” I said in a shaky voice.

“Oh boy, what did he do now?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, I just need to get home,” I lied.

“Um, okay,” he said hesitatively. Clearly he didn’t believe me, but that wasn’t my concern.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you.” I gave him a quick wave before I headed downstairs. Vic was in the kitchen when I got to the bottom. He didn’t even notice me until I closed the front door.

I ignored Vic’s calls as I entered my car and sped off. Only when I was around the corner did I relax. I sat at the stop sign to find a route home and collect my thoughts.

Did I freak out? Probably, but I had a right to. Then again I didn’t have a solid idea of what he was referring to. It was just that people always categorized me as gay because I was in theatre and choir. I guess I kinda grew into the stereotype.

I got home in ten minutes and sat in the driveway. No one was expecting me home for another hour so sitting sounded like the best idea. My mind and emotions were still a mess. How could one little comment get me so worked up? Better question, why did I care so much?

“Kell?” I jumped with a start and looked to my left. Mom was standing there with a concerned look on her face. What was she doing home?

“Um, hi?”

“You okay, Kell? Did something happen at school?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m gonna get out now.” She moved aside and hugged me as soon as I stepped out. “Why are you home? I thought you were working a double tonight.”

“I was only going to because one of the girls needed me to cover her shift. Something about her having dinner reservations for her anniversary. Well, long story short he had to work late so she took her shift back.”

I nodded along to her story as we walked inside, silently wondering how her car pulled into the driveway and I didn’t notice.

“Have you had food?”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, I’m not hungry. I have homework so I’ll be upstairs.”

“Well hold on, I thought we could hang out. We haven’t talked about school or anything for that matter since we moved in. C’mon, help me with dinner.”

So that’s what we did. I helped Mom with the meal and we caught up on each other’s lives. I told her about my classes and Lynn and the rest of the group. I left out the stuff about Vic picking on me and detention. She didn’t need to know about that.

Before we knew it we were on the couch watching a late-night talk show. Dinner was done, dishes were washed, and my homework was completed. It was the perfect end to a stressful day. I didn’t think about Vic once. And Mom didn’t think about the fact that Rick never came home.

Notes

Comments

@BeautifullyAbstract
I'm working on it. Thanks for your feedback! And sorry I'm just now seeing this

Elise Elise
4/1/18

Ahhh I love this!! Please update soon!!