I Found A Reason - Chapter Four
Disclaimer: I don’t own RENT.
This story will contain a female OC. She will be a main character. She also will not be “involved” with either Mark or Roger. Ever. She’s there to bring them together and be cute. Seriously, we promise. She won’t boink the boys.
I Found a Reason
Chapter Four -Car Rides and Cover Songs
Mark’s POV
I toss my bag off as soon as I walk through the door and make for the fridge. I shift around a few containers, hoping for something good.
“Mark, I made you a sandwich already.” My mother says from the doorway, pointing toward the table.
Gratefully, I close the fridge. “Thanks, Mom.”
She comes over and sits across from me, watching me eat.
“How was school?” She asks, smiling. She reaches across the table to fix my hair and I bat her away.
“My hair’s fine. School was fine.”
“Well, what did you do that was ‘fine’?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Cindy used to say the same thing everyday, you know.” She smiles again then frowns. “I hope she’s doing all right in college. She never calls.”
“I’m sure she’s just too busy getting trashed and neglecting her schoolwork.” I mean to be joking but my mother looks scandalized so I roll my eyes. “I’m just kidding, Mom. It’s Cindy. You know she’s fine.”
Mom looks vaguely reassured. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m going out tonight and then I’m staying at…Oh.” I bite my lip and reconsider. “Um, I’m staying at Roger’s house.”
Her brow furrows and she tilts her head in thought, pulling her sweater tighter around her. “Who’s Roger?”
“You know Roger, Mom. We did Little League together.” I pick up the other half of the sandwich, hoping Little League is a redeeming quality.
“I didn’t know you were still friends. Why haven’t you ever mentioned him?” She asks.
I shrug. “We were kind of ‘school-friends’, you know? I’m going to see his band play tonight and I’m just going to stay at his house since we’ll be getting back late.”
Mom doesn’t seem too pleased at the idea of me sleeping at the house of strange boy, so it’s immediately for the best I stopped myself from telling her that me and Roger are actually staying with some strange girl. Suggesting a co-ed sleepover might just get me grounded.
“I got an A in Geometry today, Mom, because Roger helped me study. Want to see?” I go find the bag I tossed aside and pull out the test we got back during class today. Mom looks skeptical at first, but eventually smiles.
“So he’s a smart boy like you? What kind of music does his band play?” She asks, flipping the test over to look at the back and frowning at the one problem I got wrong.
“Umm, rock? It’s pretty clean, I guess.” Not exactly the truest sentiment, but something Mom will go for.
She flips the test over and goes to stick it on the fridge. I roll my eyes. “Oh Mom, don’t.” She ignores me, of course.
“Well, all right.” She says, taking my plate. “Go and have fun. Call me when you get to Roger’s house.”
“Mom, it’s going to be really late.” I argue, caring more that I’ll have to admit to Roger and Violet that I have to call my mommy to let her know I haven’t been kicked to death at the punk show.
“I don’t care if you wake me up, but I’ll worry all night if you don’t call.” She crosses her arms.
Great, she brought out the guilt trip. “Fine, I’ll call you when I get there.” Maybe I can sneak a phone call or something.
Mom looks satisfied and comes to give me a hug and covertly reaches out to fix my hair. “Do your homework before you go.”
I roll my eyes again, hugging her for minute and then reaching for my bag. “I will, thanks.”
I head up the stairs to my room and set my bag on my bed before going to my closet to take out my most recent box of photos. I open it and pull myself up onto my bed to get into my bag to retrieve the new Polaroid shots from the past couple days.
The most recent roll of film I used, I had found under my bed. It must have been at least a couple years old and it was pretty damaged, but I decided to try to use it anyway. The pictures came out faded and pinkish yellow, some of them looking burned at the edges. They actually look pretty fucking cool. I wish I could buy film that would look like this, and I suddenly wish I had conserved this roll. There are mostly just random shots of people I thought looked interesting that I took outside of school, though I got a few great ones of Roger. One taken right after he fell on his ass at lunch today after trying to climb the tree just to prove he could. He’s frowning miserably, sitting with his knees up and his arms crossed over them, glaring up at me. The other was from today as well, when Violet asked him what his fans were like. Half of the photograph is Violet tilting her head with a smile having just asked the question and the other half is Roger looking put out and scowling.
There’s a great one I took of a couple kissing earlier in the week. I saw them while I walking home from school and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, ducking behind a tree to take a picture of a clean cut guy kissing a girl goodbye who would have looked far more in place getting smashed at a punk show in the city than smiling at her boyfriend in front of a nice house in Scarsdale. There were actually a few moments involved in that exchange I wish I could have preserved. Sometimes photographs don’t do some situations justice.
I toss these pictures and the others I took into the box and put it in my closet with the others and find a new roll of film for my Polaroid. I know it’s stupid and expensive to use a Polaroid camera, especially since the photos aren’t always the best quality, but it’s my favourite type of camera to use and I can afford it, so whatever.
I pass some time by doing my Chemistry homework after staring blankly at my History assignment. I’m sure it’s entirely possible some people think 3 points is a good reason to do what will probably be nearly 4 hours of work when I get around to doing it, but I certainly don’t. Looks like Sunday night will be eventful.
Around 8:30 I shove my books off of my bed and go to the closet again to find something to wear tonight. I’m not really all the concerned about looking “cool” or something, but I want to blend in a little more than last time. I decide to keep my cords on and just change into one of my band shirts. Devo is pretty unassuming, so I go with that. I head to the bathroom to run a hand through my shaggy hair before shrugging and cleaning my glasses on my shirt. I grab my toothbrush and shove some clothes and my camera into my bag before picking up my keys and heading out to my car. I call a goodbye to my mother as I hurry out the door.
I feel kind of awkward staying the night at Violet’s house, half because she’s a girl, half because I feel like I barely know her. But Roger’s going too be there too and I’ll stick with him if weirdness ensues. When I finally reach her house, she was right the other day when she said she lived really close to the club. It’s only a couple miles from her house and I’ll admit, a much closer drive to worry about after the show.
I hate this part of hanging out with people. I park in front of her house and head up to the door. Ringing doorbells makes me paranoid, and I’m silently praying she’s ready and I don’t have to sit around with parents or siblings while I wait. My finger is in position above the doorbell but before I can do anything the door opens and a tall, thin blonde woman opens the door and grins down at me.
“Hey cutie, are you Mark?” She leans against the doorframe.
I stare at her, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow and back away. “Umm, yeah. Is, uh… Violet here?”
She moves back and pulls me by the hand into the house. “I was just heading out, I’ll be gone until late. Daisy is at a friends house tonight, but I just went shopping today so there’s plenty of food and you can call me if you need anything.” She winks at me and I take a step to the side.
“Great.” I smile nervously.
“Is it your band playing tonight? You look like a little rockstar.” She sits on the couch and crosses her legs.
This time I do raise an eyebrow. “No, it’s our friend Roger.”
“Is he as cute as you?” She grins, thinking she’s teasing. I need Violet to hurry the hell up right now.
To my extreme relief she’s already rushing down the stairs, pulling on a sweater over her t-shirt and zipping it up. She smiles and surprises me with a small hug before practically pushing me out the door and waving at her mother.
“What’s with your mom?” I ask her, unlocking the passenger door for her.
Violet rolls her eyes with a little smile and pulls out a stick of gum, offering one to me too. “Ignore her, she thinks she’s young. She won’t be around tonight.”
“I thought it was like, your sister at first. Who’s Daisy?” I ask her, heading over to my side of the car.
“My sister. And don’t even say it, I know naming your kids after flowers is lame.”
I slide into the car and push the B-52s tape back in after I start it. Violet stares at me when I start singing to ‘Rock Lobster’. I feel myself blushing. I’m usually alone in my car and no one witnesses my off-key renditions of my favourite songs. While I’m busy feeling like a complete idiot for forgetting I wasn’t alone, she starts singing too. I start feeling a little bit less like I’m going to have to do whatever I can to not look like weird in front of strangers tonight and more like I should just be having fun. But I didn’t bring any sort of ear plugs. So I won’t really be having too much fun.
Roger is outside of the club leaning against the wall, smoking, wearing tight clothes and newly gelled hair. He waves absently and heads over to my car.
“Mind if I shove this in here now?” He asks, tossing a bag into my backseat before he’s even finished talking.
“Yeah, go ahead.” I lock my doors and follow him and Violet to the club.
“We go on in about twenty minutes.” He says, looking tense and slightly irritated. “The band that’s on now is pretty fucking good, I’ve never heard them before. They’re only an opening group and they’re so much fucking better.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it out under his shoe, before crossing his thin arms and leaning against the wall again.
“It’s pretty empty right now, you should head in,” He sighs. “It won’t fill up until at least 10:00. If you want to just get a table and chill, now’s your chance.”
“Are you okay?” Violet asks him. He shrugs and makes a face.
“I know the show is fine. But that’s all it is. It’s fine.” He says vaguely and then heads away back to the stage door.
I shrug at Violet. She frowns and looks around for the door. Pulling on my sleeve she leads me over and we each shell out our $5. Roger was right, the club is pretty empty. At first impression I don’t think the opening band is as good as he thinks. At least their singer is no match for him, but at least both members of their rhythm section keep it together and their guitar player doesn’t try to add a bunch of riffs to show off that make him look like a complete ass when he can’t finish them off cleanly.
We score a table near the back after securing some drinks. Violet would have preferred to be closer to the stage but after the last show, I severely learned my lesson. Roger’s high school fans like to rush the stage and shove each other. We’d be safer a bit further back. Violet picks up one of the flyers on our table and sips her Coke while reading it.
“What the fuck is an Alchemy’s Revenge?” She demands, squinting as if she’d read it wrong.
I snort. “It’s the name of Roger’s band.” She looks up in surprise and almost spits out her drink before dissolving into giggles and I have to join her, glad to finally have someone to revel in the ridiculousness of it all with.
Violet makes me tell her about the last show while the other band is packing up and I try to prepare her mostly for the excess noise and the other audience members who are finally starting to filter in. In the fifteen minutes we’ve been inside the audience has already tripled and it looks like more are coming.
The odd thing about suburban rock is the audience. If you ask any of them why they go they’ll always say it’s “for the music”. I happen to think it’s a load of shit. Most of them just want to hang out with the bands and feel cool for going to rock shows. Most people in our high school will say they listen to “everything” if you ask them what music they like. Which boils down to the fact that they don’t listen to much of anything besides what’s accessible and have no real judgment or opinions about most music. And yeah, I talk a big game but in reality I know nothing about music and couldn’t tell the difference between an A Major scale and someone banging a bunch of random notes on a piano. But I know that and I’ll admit it. I know what I like and I know what I definitely don’t. Which is more than I can say for a lot of the people flashing fake IDs at the bartender.
Finally, a full twenty minutes later than Roger said, his band takes the stage. Immediately I recognize the crazy grin he had last time I saw him play and a different sort of swagger to the way he moves around onstage than his usual gait. Roger sweet talks the audience for a minute, asking them if they’re ready to party. I want to know if his band told him what to say or not. It definitely doesn’t sound like anything Roger would come up with on his own.
Ryan, the big and hard looking guitar player glances back at the dark-haired drummer who sighs but counts off and then sits back, looking bored. When Ryan starts playing I can’t do a damn thing but stare. Roger is visibly surprised and turns away from the audience.
“Who the fuck opens a show with ‘Stairway To Heaven’?” I find myself almost yelling, but I’m covered up by a bunch of girls screaming at Roger who tries to cover up his disbelief with a confident grin.
Violet hears me, though, and laughs off-handedly. “Who the fuck plays ‘Stairway to Heaven’ at a show?”
Roger looks furious, I can tell he wasn’t exactly planning on doing this song, at least not now and it’s obvious the drummer feels the same way. He’s twirling his drumsticks absently, apparently having been told to sit out. Ryan glares up at Roger who closes his eyes in frustration but gets through the first verse. Ryan keeps playing, but Roger looks back at the drummer and shakes his head and mouths something at him. Roger gets the bass player too and the drummer counts off and starts up a new beat.
“Blitzkreig!” He shouts at Ryan, who immediately switches songs, unable to keep going with his rhythm section starting in on a completely different song, but turns red in the process. The mood of the audience picks up and they start jumping when Roger shouts “hey ho, let’s go” at them.
“They pick the most obvious cover songs.” I moan, downing the last of my coke and watching the kids in front of us dance.
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Violet says, nudging me. “Roger spared us from Stairway. Let’s be optimistic.”
They move from ‘Blitzkreig Bop’ to what sounds like a couple shitty original songs I pray Roger had nothing to do with to ‘Police and Thieves’ and after that proceed to play about five more Clash songs.
“They should at least spread them out if they’re going to do this many from one band.” I insist.
Violet is on her third Coke and has started tapping her shoe against her chair and drumming her fingertips on the table, getting bored of sitting. “We should go dance.” She decides.
“You’re fucking kidding.” I cross my arms and lean back in my chair, refusing to budge and join the sea of followers bobbing along to the steady drum beat.
“Yeah, they’re not the greatest band ever, but whatever. You can sit there like a jerk or we can dance and try to have fun.” She’s already up, talking as she dances in front of the table to ‘God Save The Queen’.
I finish off my drink and join her. Biting back a comment about the bass line not being at all in sync with the rest of the group, I acknowledge they at least they switched to a new band to cover from.
I’m not much of a dancer, but neither is Violet, so we jump around near the back of the crowd, still staying out of what could possibly become a moshing situation. I didn’t think that was legal, but no one in charge seems to mind and all the kids in the middle of the moving group seem to be pretty thrilled, so whatever. I have to admit though, that it is infinitely more fun to do something than just sit there and waste my money on Coke I don’t really want to drink. So I bring out my dance moves and try to make the best of it.
The band takes a short break after they play “Anarchy in the UK”. I can’t resist going off on a bit of a rant and again insisting to Violet that they cover the most obvious songs.
“What the fuck kind of relevance does “God Save the Queen” have this side of the ocean, anyway?” I demand, taking a seat and pulling my camera out, intent upon getting a few more shots of the band for Roger and some random shots of the club and the audience for myself.
“I don’t think the point is the relevance.” Violet says, then shrugs. “I don’t think there is a point. They’re not that bad.”
They come back with a few more original songs, one the audience particularly seems to enjoy and then finish up the show with another Sex Pistols song and what even I have to admit isn’t a particularly bad version of The Dead Milkmen’s ‘Punk Rock Girl’. They played it louder and faster than the original and the bass player was the most on he’d been all night. Roger had picked up a guitar to double Ryan’s playing, which the crowd loved. Even though Ryan killed the solo by playing too fast for his own fingers, it was a good song to end the show on.
We head outside, and I’m relieved by contact with the clean and unsmoky air that feels good after jumping around sweaty from dancing in a crowded club all night. We stand off to the side to wait for Roger and avoid the girls gathering around by the stage door.
“They’re kind of a big deal, I guess?” Violet asks me, pulling her sweater back on and stepping back to avoid being knocked over by a girl in a hurry to find her friends.
I shrug and push my glasses up on my nose, they’ve been sliding down all night since I’ve been sweating in the club. “What else is there to do? Might as well try to get in with the local punk band.”
The band finally heads out, Roger helping the dark-haired drummer load up his van. Roger punches him in the arm and the drummer grins back at him and waves him away.
“The drummer is pretty cute.” Violet says, giggling approvingly and watching him finish packing up and get into his van.
“Uh, yeah. Definitely.” I joke, waving at Roger when I see him looking for us. He nods and stops to talk with a couple girls who corner him. One moves a little too close for his liking and he pats her on the shoulder and backs away before thanking both of them and heading toward us quickly to get away before anyone else stopped him. He stops in front of me and looks at me expectantly.
“It was umm. Well,” I start and stop to think. “It was better than last time.” I offer. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Violet reaches out to give him a hug. He stares at me over her shoulder, and I almost laugh out loud before he pats her back quickly and moves away.
“Well, I had fun.” She tells him and we start heading for my car. I touch his arm as he’s stalking away from me with a sour expression, sweat and hairgel running down his face. I can tell he’s not happy with how it went.
“Hey, you were good.” I tell him. “Especially trying to save the opening song.” Roger immediately launches into a full out rant about Ryan trying to convince them it was a good idea and knowing it was stupid and how he was overruled because it’s ‘Ryan’s band’. I keep my hand on his arm and let him talk as we walk to my car where he lays down in the backseat despite my urging for him to put a seatbelt on.
“Just drive, Mark. Shut up.” He moans, coming down from his high from the show and lighting a cigarette. I consider telling him off for smoking in my car without at least asking, but think better of it and let him be.
The first thing Roger does when we get to Violet’s house is crash on her couch and take a nap. So much for sticking with Roger if I felt awkward. I head to the kitchen with Violet and help her pull out a few bags of popcorn and take a can of Coke from her fridge. I feel a lot better about drinking a shitload of soda when I’m not paying four bucks for a small little cup. After only ten minutes, Roger is in the kitchen with us, shotgunning soda and looking very much awake.
“Hey, can I use your phone? I have to call my mom.” Roger asks Violet, who nods. I watch Roger dial and realize I was supposed to call my mother too, and suddenly don’t feel like a loser for needing to. It’s not like Roger is going to make fun of me for it.
“Can I use it after Roger? I need to call my mom too.” I admit and Violet throws a piece of popcorn at me.
“Aww, you guys are cute.” She teases and I shrug and try not to blush.
Roger plops himself in a chair and puts a foot up on another and smiles idly while he talks, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, Mom. No, it was okay. No, seriously, be glad you didn’t go. Aww yeah, hey Molly. What are you doing up?” His smile gets a little bit bigger. “Go to bed, little girl. Yeah, yeah. Sure, Mom. Love you too.” He grins at me and pulls himself up, handing me the phone and patting my shoulder.
I call my mom, who sounds half dead when she picks up the phone but is very pleased I remembered to call. Roger is searching through the fridge. He pulls out a container and opens one side and sniffs it warily before pulling back abruptly and throwing a shocked look at Violet.
“What the fuck is this?” She takes it and opens it up all the way. A mess of noodles, vegetables and colour stares out at us.
“It’s just some sort of casserole my mom tried to make. It wasn’t very good.” Violet says, making a face and closing it back up.
“Sick.” Roger says as I’m hanging up the phone. “Hey Mark, check this out.” He takes the container from Violet and thrusts it at me.
“Ew, don’t.” I push it back toward him. “I don’t want it.”
Roger smiles one of his wicked smiles and pushes it back to me. “I dare you to eat it.”
“No way, you do it.” I say, crossing my arms and taking a step back. Roger can be so disgusting when he wants to be.
“You’re such a girl, Mark.” Roger teases and turns to Violet “Give me a fork.”
I frown, not wanting Roger to think I’m a girl, but also not wanting to eat whatever is growing in the container. What the hell does being able to stomach eating nasty shit have to do with masculinity? And why the fuck do I care, anyway? He can go ahead and get sick and barf. Then Roger grins smugly at me and I bite my lip angrily.
“Give me one too.” And Violet grabs me a fork, which I reluctantly take. Roger opens the container again and sets it between us on the table.
“I bet I can eat more of it.” Roger says immediately, staring down into the mess.
“Yeah well, I bet I won’t throw it up later.” I challenge him, digging for something I might beat him at.
Roger grins again. “Do you have like, ketchup and shit?” He asks Violet, getting up and opening the fridge again. “We need to make this interesting. Since Marky wants to add “not throwing it up” to our criteria.”
“Sick, Roger, no.” I protest, feeling sicker by the minute watching him dig through the fridge and pull out a few condiments.
“Girl.” He grins, turning to me while he squeezes out some ketchup and mustard and squirts a lump of salad dressing in as well.
Violet wrinkles her nose when Roger grabs a jar of pickles and drops a few on top of the casserole. That does it for me.
“I’m not eating this, Roger.” I say, setting down my fork and feeling sick. So much for my masculinity. I laugh to cover up my frustration. “But I still dare you to. And you can’t throw it up.”
Roger shrugs indifferent. “Fine.” He mixes up the contents of the container and takes a big bite without even cringing. Violet looks slightly ill but giggles when he looks pensive for a moment and then declares that it needs more Ranch.
Roger picks up his soda and we head back toward the couches while he continues to munch away somewhat happily on his dare. Violet curls up one end of the couch and I take the other. Roger sits on the floor against the couch across from us, balancing the container on his knees and looking lost in thought.
“Ryan is such a fucking jerk.” He finally declares, frowning. “I can’t believe how full of himself he is.” He eats more and then grins, as if a brilliant thought has struck him.
“Hey Mark, prank call Ryan for me.” He says, tossing a pillow at me.
I roll my eyes and toss the pillow back. “Fuck you, make your own prank calls.”
“Stop being lame, you won’t do anything tonight.” Roger teases. “Besides, he’d recognize my voice. You do it.”
He waits for me to agree and when I don’t he looks over at Violet. She stares back at him and he shrugs. “You wanna do it? Call Ryan and…” He stops eating and thinks for minute before laughing and digging the fork into the casserole again. “Call him and tell him you’re Kelly, his ex, and then,” he laughs again. “Tell him you’re pregnant.”
“Roger, you’re terrible.” I protest, but I’m still somewhat amused.
“He made me sing part of ‘Stairway to Heaven’,” Roger snaps. “He deserves it.”
Violet shrugs and reaches for the phone. She smile expectantly at Roger “What’s his number?”
Listening to Violet fake a few tears and announce her pregnancy to Ryan makes Roger laugh so hard he has to go back in the kitchen for fear of Ryan hearing him. When he returns, Violet is hanging up and he’s dumped his bowl somewhere. He flops onto the couch between us and grins at Violet.
“Hey, you didn’t finish your dare. Where’s your casserole?” I demand, pushing on his shoulder.
“I finished it,” he insists. “So give me a new one.” He crosses his arms and waits, watching me.
“Fine, uh… I dare you to let Violet put makeup on you.” I challenge, looking over at the girl who giggles and goes for her purse.
Roger pouts for a moment, then shrugs, not wanting to back down, though I get the impression that being given a makeover doesn’t really phase him that much. “Whatever,” he says, moving to the floor. “Bring it on.”
“You have to keep it on for at least an hour so I can laugh at you.” I add, hoping to bruise his ego somehow, but he only shrugs again.
Violet turns up the light in the room and kneels in front of Roger who makes a face and closes his eyes before she sweeps some dark eyeshadow over his eyelids.
“Full face?” She asks me, pulling out some blush and a brush.
“Of course.” I grab another soda and stick another bag of popcorn in the microwave. I spot a few bags of chips next to the fridge and I bring those back to the other room.
It’s ridiculous how Roger manages to still look ridiculously masculine with a full face of makeup. He also seems so nonplussed about it that I want to continue our challenges just for a chance to get him riled up about something.
“So Mark, Truth or Dare.” He asks after a few more minutes while Violet caps her mascara. He moves to lie down on his stomach.
I frown at making the game official, and don’t want to know what kind of dares Roger has for me. Especially while he’s smiling up at me like that. I go with ‘truth’.
“So, who do you think about when you masturbate?” Roger asks, grinning and looking interested. Violet snorts into her Coke.
I sigh, knowing I should have known. It’s Roger after all. I try to think of the least embarrassing person.
“Winona Ryder.” I sigh. “Truth or Dare?”
He looks like he’s going to say something and then seems to consider for minute. Finally he just shrugs and goes with ‘truth’ as well. I want to hit him with the same question but it feels too lame to repeat his so I play nice, hoping for a chance to get him later.
“How many girls have you kissed?” I ask him, then realize there’s no way I have him beat and if he asks me back I’ll look like such a virgin.
“One.” He says without a thought, taking a handful of popcorn.
I sit up and stare down at him. Even Violet looks vaguely surprised. “One?”
“Yeah, one. What?” He demands, suddenly a bit defensive. “How many girls have you kissed?”
“Four.” I tell him, sitting back and feeling slightly more confident than before.
“Slut.” He grins, forgetting his defensiveness. “Anyone I know?”
“No, I doubt it.” I shrug. “Well, Nanette. But the rest were at like, Dad’s company picnics or girls I knew from temple.”
He nods and considers, then laughs under his breath and looks up again. “And you kissed them all like, what? Once or twice each?” He asks.
“Yeah, so?” I say, crossing my arms again.
“Well, mine was my girlfriend for a whole summer. So I have a whole summer of kissing. So I win.” He decides.
I snort indignantly. “How exactly do you win?”
Roger rolls onto his back and looks up at me, taking pleasure in my annoyance. “It’s quality, not quantity,” he reasons. “And I’ve got you beat on quantity too, actually, if we’re just talking number of kisses in general.”
“Wait. Are we competing over who’s done more kissing in general or who’s kisses count more?” I counter, attempting to follow his logic and annoyed at letting my testosterone get the better of me by letting him drag me into this fight in the first place.
Violet giggles and Roger looks up at her. “How many girls have you kissed?” He demands, then laughs softly. “Uh, boys, I mean. Unless…”
Violet smiles. “None.”
I squint at her. “But you said you went out with uh, whatshisname. Brian?”
Violet shrugs and wrinkles her nose. “Would you want to kiss him? Besides, he’s a total closet case. I can tell.” She says with a knowing wink.
Roger raises his eyebrows. “No way, Brian? Huh.” He grabs more popcorn then turns back to Violet. “You have any more food?”
“Pizza?” Violet asks, getting up.
We share a nod and Roger calls an affirmative to her and pulls himself up and waits for me to follow him. He pushes me good-naturedly when I’m standing next to him.
I steady myself and turn back to him. “I dare you to kiss Violet.” I challenge, intent upon teasing him a bit more.
Roger looks shocked. “No way. I dare you.”
“You need to up your kiss count.” I tease, nudging him.
“You like her.” He says, pushing me. I raise my eyebrows.
“I do not, you asshole. You should, come on, I dare you.”
Violet is holding two different pizzas and staring at us. I had thought she was still in the kitchen.
“Well, as tempting as that offer is, boys,” She says jokingly. “I think I’ll pass. Pepperoni or vegetable?”
Roger grins awkwardly and points at the pepperoni, shoving me playfully again on the way into the kitchen.
This story will contain a female OC. She will be a main character. She also will not be “involved” with either Mark or Roger. Ever. She’s there to bring them together and be cute. Seriously, we promise. She won’t boink the boys.
I Found a Reason
Chapter Four -Car Rides and Cover Songs
Mark’s POV
I toss my bag off as soon as I walk through the door and make for the fridge. I shift around a few containers, hoping for something good.
“Mark, I made you a sandwich already.” My mother says from the doorway, pointing toward the table.
Gratefully, I close the fridge. “Thanks, Mom.”
She comes over and sits across from me, watching me eat.
“How was school?” She asks, smiling. She reaches across the table to fix my hair and I bat her away.
“My hair’s fine. School was fine.”
“Well, what did you do that was ‘fine’?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Cindy used to say the same thing everyday, you know.” She smiles again then frowns. “I hope she’s doing all right in college. She never calls.”
“I’m sure she’s just too busy getting trashed and neglecting her schoolwork.” I mean to be joking but my mother looks scandalized so I roll my eyes. “I’m just kidding, Mom. It’s Cindy. You know she’s fine.”
Mom looks vaguely reassured. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m going out tonight and then I’m staying at…Oh.” I bite my lip and reconsider. “Um, I’m staying at Roger’s house.”
Her brow furrows and she tilts her head in thought, pulling her sweater tighter around her. “Who’s Roger?”
“You know Roger, Mom. We did Little League together.” I pick up the other half of the sandwich, hoping Little League is a redeeming quality.
“I didn’t know you were still friends. Why haven’t you ever mentioned him?” She asks.
I shrug. “We were kind of ‘school-friends’, you know? I’m going to see his band play tonight and I’m just going to stay at his house since we’ll be getting back late.”
Mom doesn’t seem too pleased at the idea of me sleeping at the house of strange boy, so it’s immediately for the best I stopped myself from telling her that me and Roger are actually staying with some strange girl. Suggesting a co-ed sleepover might just get me grounded.
“I got an A in Geometry today, Mom, because Roger helped me study. Want to see?” I go find the bag I tossed aside and pull out the test we got back during class today. Mom looks skeptical at first, but eventually smiles.
“So he’s a smart boy like you? What kind of music does his band play?” She asks, flipping the test over to look at the back and frowning at the one problem I got wrong.
“Umm, rock? It’s pretty clean, I guess.” Not exactly the truest sentiment, but something Mom will go for.
She flips the test over and goes to stick it on the fridge. I roll my eyes. “Oh Mom, don’t.” She ignores me, of course.
“Well, all right.” She says, taking my plate. “Go and have fun. Call me when you get to Roger’s house.”
“Mom, it’s going to be really late.” I argue, caring more that I’ll have to admit to Roger and Violet that I have to call my mommy to let her know I haven’t been kicked to death at the punk show.
“I don’t care if you wake me up, but I’ll worry all night if you don’t call.” She crosses her arms.
Great, she brought out the guilt trip. “Fine, I’ll call you when I get there.” Maybe I can sneak a phone call or something.
Mom looks satisfied and comes to give me a hug and covertly reaches out to fix my hair. “Do your homework before you go.”
I roll my eyes again, hugging her for minute and then reaching for my bag. “I will, thanks.”
I head up the stairs to my room and set my bag on my bed before going to my closet to take out my most recent box of photos. I open it and pull myself up onto my bed to get into my bag to retrieve the new Polaroid shots from the past couple days.
The most recent roll of film I used, I had found under my bed. It must have been at least a couple years old and it was pretty damaged, but I decided to try to use it anyway. The pictures came out faded and pinkish yellow, some of them looking burned at the edges. They actually look pretty fucking cool. I wish I could buy film that would look like this, and I suddenly wish I had conserved this roll. There are mostly just random shots of people I thought looked interesting that I took outside of school, though I got a few great ones of Roger. One taken right after he fell on his ass at lunch today after trying to climb the tree just to prove he could. He’s frowning miserably, sitting with his knees up and his arms crossed over them, glaring up at me. The other was from today as well, when Violet asked him what his fans were like. Half of the photograph is Violet tilting her head with a smile having just asked the question and the other half is Roger looking put out and scowling.
There’s a great one I took of a couple kissing earlier in the week. I saw them while I walking home from school and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, ducking behind a tree to take a picture of a clean cut guy kissing a girl goodbye who would have looked far more in place getting smashed at a punk show in the city than smiling at her boyfriend in front of a nice house in Scarsdale. There were actually a few moments involved in that exchange I wish I could have preserved. Sometimes photographs don’t do some situations justice.
I toss these pictures and the others I took into the box and put it in my closet with the others and find a new roll of film for my Polaroid. I know it’s stupid and expensive to use a Polaroid camera, especially since the photos aren’t always the best quality, but it’s my favourite type of camera to use and I can afford it, so whatever.
I pass some time by doing my Chemistry homework after staring blankly at my History assignment. I’m sure it’s entirely possible some people think 3 points is a good reason to do what will probably be nearly 4 hours of work when I get around to doing it, but I certainly don’t. Looks like Sunday night will be eventful.
Around 8:30 I shove my books off of my bed and go to the closet again to find something to wear tonight. I’m not really all the concerned about looking “cool” or something, but I want to blend in a little more than last time. I decide to keep my cords on and just change into one of my band shirts. Devo is pretty unassuming, so I go with that. I head to the bathroom to run a hand through my shaggy hair before shrugging and cleaning my glasses on my shirt. I grab my toothbrush and shove some clothes and my camera into my bag before picking up my keys and heading out to my car. I call a goodbye to my mother as I hurry out the door.
I feel kind of awkward staying the night at Violet’s house, half because she’s a girl, half because I feel like I barely know her. But Roger’s going too be there too and I’ll stick with him if weirdness ensues. When I finally reach her house, she was right the other day when she said she lived really close to the club. It’s only a couple miles from her house and I’ll admit, a much closer drive to worry about after the show.
I hate this part of hanging out with people. I park in front of her house and head up to the door. Ringing doorbells makes me paranoid, and I’m silently praying she’s ready and I don’t have to sit around with parents or siblings while I wait. My finger is in position above the doorbell but before I can do anything the door opens and a tall, thin blonde woman opens the door and grins down at me.
“Hey cutie, are you Mark?” She leans against the doorframe.
I stare at her, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow and back away. “Umm, yeah. Is, uh… Violet here?”
She moves back and pulls me by the hand into the house. “I was just heading out, I’ll be gone until late. Daisy is at a friends house tonight, but I just went shopping today so there’s plenty of food and you can call me if you need anything.” She winks at me and I take a step to the side.
“Great.” I smile nervously.
“Is it your band playing tonight? You look like a little rockstar.” She sits on the couch and crosses her legs.
This time I do raise an eyebrow. “No, it’s our friend Roger.”
“Is he as cute as you?” She grins, thinking she’s teasing. I need Violet to hurry the hell up right now.
To my extreme relief she’s already rushing down the stairs, pulling on a sweater over her t-shirt and zipping it up. She smiles and surprises me with a small hug before practically pushing me out the door and waving at her mother.
“What’s with your mom?” I ask her, unlocking the passenger door for her.
Violet rolls her eyes with a little smile and pulls out a stick of gum, offering one to me too. “Ignore her, she thinks she’s young. She won’t be around tonight.”
“I thought it was like, your sister at first. Who’s Daisy?” I ask her, heading over to my side of the car.
“My sister. And don’t even say it, I know naming your kids after flowers is lame.”
I slide into the car and push the B-52s tape back in after I start it. Violet stares at me when I start singing to ‘Rock Lobster’. I feel myself blushing. I’m usually alone in my car and no one witnesses my off-key renditions of my favourite songs. While I’m busy feeling like a complete idiot for forgetting I wasn’t alone, she starts singing too. I start feeling a little bit less like I’m going to have to do whatever I can to not look like weird in front of strangers tonight and more like I should just be having fun. But I didn’t bring any sort of ear plugs. So I won’t really be having too much fun.
Roger is outside of the club leaning against the wall, smoking, wearing tight clothes and newly gelled hair. He waves absently and heads over to my car.
“Mind if I shove this in here now?” He asks, tossing a bag into my backseat before he’s even finished talking.
“Yeah, go ahead.” I lock my doors and follow him and Violet to the club.
“We go on in about twenty minutes.” He says, looking tense and slightly irritated. “The band that’s on now is pretty fucking good, I’ve never heard them before. They’re only an opening group and they’re so much fucking better.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it out under his shoe, before crossing his thin arms and leaning against the wall again.
“It’s pretty empty right now, you should head in,” He sighs. “It won’t fill up until at least 10:00. If you want to just get a table and chill, now’s your chance.”
“Are you okay?” Violet asks him. He shrugs and makes a face.
“I know the show is fine. But that’s all it is. It’s fine.” He says vaguely and then heads away back to the stage door.
I shrug at Violet. She frowns and looks around for the door. Pulling on my sleeve she leads me over and we each shell out our $5. Roger was right, the club is pretty empty. At first impression I don’t think the opening band is as good as he thinks. At least their singer is no match for him, but at least both members of their rhythm section keep it together and their guitar player doesn’t try to add a bunch of riffs to show off that make him look like a complete ass when he can’t finish them off cleanly.
We score a table near the back after securing some drinks. Violet would have preferred to be closer to the stage but after the last show, I severely learned my lesson. Roger’s high school fans like to rush the stage and shove each other. We’d be safer a bit further back. Violet picks up one of the flyers on our table and sips her Coke while reading it.
“What the fuck is an Alchemy’s Revenge?” She demands, squinting as if she’d read it wrong.
I snort. “It’s the name of Roger’s band.” She looks up in surprise and almost spits out her drink before dissolving into giggles and I have to join her, glad to finally have someone to revel in the ridiculousness of it all with.
Violet makes me tell her about the last show while the other band is packing up and I try to prepare her mostly for the excess noise and the other audience members who are finally starting to filter in. In the fifteen minutes we’ve been inside the audience has already tripled and it looks like more are coming.
The odd thing about suburban rock is the audience. If you ask any of them why they go they’ll always say it’s “for the music”. I happen to think it’s a load of shit. Most of them just want to hang out with the bands and feel cool for going to rock shows. Most people in our high school will say they listen to “everything” if you ask them what music they like. Which boils down to the fact that they don’t listen to much of anything besides what’s accessible and have no real judgment or opinions about most music. And yeah, I talk a big game but in reality I know nothing about music and couldn’t tell the difference between an A Major scale and someone banging a bunch of random notes on a piano. But I know that and I’ll admit it. I know what I like and I know what I definitely don’t. Which is more than I can say for a lot of the people flashing fake IDs at the bartender.
Finally, a full twenty minutes later than Roger said, his band takes the stage. Immediately I recognize the crazy grin he had last time I saw him play and a different sort of swagger to the way he moves around onstage than his usual gait. Roger sweet talks the audience for a minute, asking them if they’re ready to party. I want to know if his band told him what to say or not. It definitely doesn’t sound like anything Roger would come up with on his own.
Ryan, the big and hard looking guitar player glances back at the dark-haired drummer who sighs but counts off and then sits back, looking bored. When Ryan starts playing I can’t do a damn thing but stare. Roger is visibly surprised and turns away from the audience.
“Who the fuck opens a show with ‘Stairway To Heaven’?” I find myself almost yelling, but I’m covered up by a bunch of girls screaming at Roger who tries to cover up his disbelief with a confident grin.
Violet hears me, though, and laughs off-handedly. “Who the fuck plays ‘Stairway to Heaven’ at a show?”
Roger looks furious, I can tell he wasn’t exactly planning on doing this song, at least not now and it’s obvious the drummer feels the same way. He’s twirling his drumsticks absently, apparently having been told to sit out. Ryan glares up at Roger who closes his eyes in frustration but gets through the first verse. Ryan keeps playing, but Roger looks back at the drummer and shakes his head and mouths something at him. Roger gets the bass player too and the drummer counts off and starts up a new beat.
“Blitzkreig!” He shouts at Ryan, who immediately switches songs, unable to keep going with his rhythm section starting in on a completely different song, but turns red in the process. The mood of the audience picks up and they start jumping when Roger shouts “hey ho, let’s go” at them.
“They pick the most obvious cover songs.” I moan, downing the last of my coke and watching the kids in front of us dance.
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Violet says, nudging me. “Roger spared us from Stairway. Let’s be optimistic.”
They move from ‘Blitzkreig Bop’ to what sounds like a couple shitty original songs I pray Roger had nothing to do with to ‘Police and Thieves’ and after that proceed to play about five more Clash songs.
“They should at least spread them out if they’re going to do this many from one band.” I insist.
Violet is on her third Coke and has started tapping her shoe against her chair and drumming her fingertips on the table, getting bored of sitting. “We should go dance.” She decides.
“You’re fucking kidding.” I cross my arms and lean back in my chair, refusing to budge and join the sea of followers bobbing along to the steady drum beat.
“Yeah, they’re not the greatest band ever, but whatever. You can sit there like a jerk or we can dance and try to have fun.” She’s already up, talking as she dances in front of the table to ‘God Save The Queen’.
I finish off my drink and join her. Biting back a comment about the bass line not being at all in sync with the rest of the group, I acknowledge they at least they switched to a new band to cover from.
I’m not much of a dancer, but neither is Violet, so we jump around near the back of the crowd, still staying out of what could possibly become a moshing situation. I didn’t think that was legal, but no one in charge seems to mind and all the kids in the middle of the moving group seem to be pretty thrilled, so whatever. I have to admit though, that it is infinitely more fun to do something than just sit there and waste my money on Coke I don’t really want to drink. So I bring out my dance moves and try to make the best of it.
The band takes a short break after they play “Anarchy in the UK”. I can’t resist going off on a bit of a rant and again insisting to Violet that they cover the most obvious songs.
“What the fuck kind of relevance does “God Save the Queen” have this side of the ocean, anyway?” I demand, taking a seat and pulling my camera out, intent upon getting a few more shots of the band for Roger and some random shots of the club and the audience for myself.
“I don’t think the point is the relevance.” Violet says, then shrugs. “I don’t think there is a point. They’re not that bad.”
They come back with a few more original songs, one the audience particularly seems to enjoy and then finish up the show with another Sex Pistols song and what even I have to admit isn’t a particularly bad version of The Dead Milkmen’s ‘Punk Rock Girl’. They played it louder and faster than the original and the bass player was the most on he’d been all night. Roger had picked up a guitar to double Ryan’s playing, which the crowd loved. Even though Ryan killed the solo by playing too fast for his own fingers, it was a good song to end the show on.
We head outside, and I’m relieved by contact with the clean and unsmoky air that feels good after jumping around sweaty from dancing in a crowded club all night. We stand off to the side to wait for Roger and avoid the girls gathering around by the stage door.
“They’re kind of a big deal, I guess?” Violet asks me, pulling her sweater back on and stepping back to avoid being knocked over by a girl in a hurry to find her friends.
I shrug and push my glasses up on my nose, they’ve been sliding down all night since I’ve been sweating in the club. “What else is there to do? Might as well try to get in with the local punk band.”
The band finally heads out, Roger helping the dark-haired drummer load up his van. Roger punches him in the arm and the drummer grins back at him and waves him away.
“The drummer is pretty cute.” Violet says, giggling approvingly and watching him finish packing up and get into his van.
“Uh, yeah. Definitely.” I joke, waving at Roger when I see him looking for us. He nods and stops to talk with a couple girls who corner him. One moves a little too close for his liking and he pats her on the shoulder and backs away before thanking both of them and heading toward us quickly to get away before anyone else stopped him. He stops in front of me and looks at me expectantly.
“It was umm. Well,” I start and stop to think. “It was better than last time.” I offer. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Violet reaches out to give him a hug. He stares at me over her shoulder, and I almost laugh out loud before he pats her back quickly and moves away.
“Well, I had fun.” She tells him and we start heading for my car. I touch his arm as he’s stalking away from me with a sour expression, sweat and hairgel running down his face. I can tell he’s not happy with how it went.
“Hey, you were good.” I tell him. “Especially trying to save the opening song.” Roger immediately launches into a full out rant about Ryan trying to convince them it was a good idea and knowing it was stupid and how he was overruled because it’s ‘Ryan’s band’. I keep my hand on his arm and let him talk as we walk to my car where he lays down in the backseat despite my urging for him to put a seatbelt on.
“Just drive, Mark. Shut up.” He moans, coming down from his high from the show and lighting a cigarette. I consider telling him off for smoking in my car without at least asking, but think better of it and let him be.
The first thing Roger does when we get to Violet’s house is crash on her couch and take a nap. So much for sticking with Roger if I felt awkward. I head to the kitchen with Violet and help her pull out a few bags of popcorn and take a can of Coke from her fridge. I feel a lot better about drinking a shitload of soda when I’m not paying four bucks for a small little cup. After only ten minutes, Roger is in the kitchen with us, shotgunning soda and looking very much awake.
“Hey, can I use your phone? I have to call my mom.” Roger asks Violet, who nods. I watch Roger dial and realize I was supposed to call my mother too, and suddenly don’t feel like a loser for needing to. It’s not like Roger is going to make fun of me for it.
“Can I use it after Roger? I need to call my mom too.” I admit and Violet throws a piece of popcorn at me.
“Aww, you guys are cute.” She teases and I shrug and try not to blush.
Roger plops himself in a chair and puts a foot up on another and smiles idly while he talks, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, Mom. No, it was okay. No, seriously, be glad you didn’t go. Aww yeah, hey Molly. What are you doing up?” His smile gets a little bit bigger. “Go to bed, little girl. Yeah, yeah. Sure, Mom. Love you too.” He grins at me and pulls himself up, handing me the phone and patting my shoulder.
I call my mom, who sounds half dead when she picks up the phone but is very pleased I remembered to call. Roger is searching through the fridge. He pulls out a container and opens one side and sniffs it warily before pulling back abruptly and throwing a shocked look at Violet.
“What the fuck is this?” She takes it and opens it up all the way. A mess of noodles, vegetables and colour stares out at us.
“It’s just some sort of casserole my mom tried to make. It wasn’t very good.” Violet says, making a face and closing it back up.
“Sick.” Roger says as I’m hanging up the phone. “Hey Mark, check this out.” He takes the container from Violet and thrusts it at me.
“Ew, don’t.” I push it back toward him. “I don’t want it.”
Roger smiles one of his wicked smiles and pushes it back to me. “I dare you to eat it.”
“No way, you do it.” I say, crossing my arms and taking a step back. Roger can be so disgusting when he wants to be.
“You’re such a girl, Mark.” Roger teases and turns to Violet “Give me a fork.”
I frown, not wanting Roger to think I’m a girl, but also not wanting to eat whatever is growing in the container. What the hell does being able to stomach eating nasty shit have to do with masculinity? And why the fuck do I care, anyway? He can go ahead and get sick and barf. Then Roger grins smugly at me and I bite my lip angrily.
“Give me one too.” And Violet grabs me a fork, which I reluctantly take. Roger opens the container again and sets it between us on the table.
“I bet I can eat more of it.” Roger says immediately, staring down into the mess.
“Yeah well, I bet I won’t throw it up later.” I challenge him, digging for something I might beat him at.
Roger grins again. “Do you have like, ketchup and shit?” He asks Violet, getting up and opening the fridge again. “We need to make this interesting. Since Marky wants to add “not throwing it up” to our criteria.”
“Sick, Roger, no.” I protest, feeling sicker by the minute watching him dig through the fridge and pull out a few condiments.
“Girl.” He grins, turning to me while he squeezes out some ketchup and mustard and squirts a lump of salad dressing in as well.
Violet wrinkles her nose when Roger grabs a jar of pickles and drops a few on top of the casserole. That does it for me.
“I’m not eating this, Roger.” I say, setting down my fork and feeling sick. So much for my masculinity. I laugh to cover up my frustration. “But I still dare you to. And you can’t throw it up.”
Roger shrugs indifferent. “Fine.” He mixes up the contents of the container and takes a big bite without even cringing. Violet looks slightly ill but giggles when he looks pensive for a moment and then declares that it needs more Ranch.
Roger picks up his soda and we head back toward the couches while he continues to munch away somewhat happily on his dare. Violet curls up one end of the couch and I take the other. Roger sits on the floor against the couch across from us, balancing the container on his knees and looking lost in thought.
“Ryan is such a fucking jerk.” He finally declares, frowning. “I can’t believe how full of himself he is.” He eats more and then grins, as if a brilliant thought has struck him.
“Hey Mark, prank call Ryan for me.” He says, tossing a pillow at me.
I roll my eyes and toss the pillow back. “Fuck you, make your own prank calls.”
“Stop being lame, you won’t do anything tonight.” Roger teases. “Besides, he’d recognize my voice. You do it.”
He waits for me to agree and when I don’t he looks over at Violet. She stares back at him and he shrugs. “You wanna do it? Call Ryan and…” He stops eating and thinks for minute before laughing and digging the fork into the casserole again. “Call him and tell him you’re Kelly, his ex, and then,” he laughs again. “Tell him you’re pregnant.”
“Roger, you’re terrible.” I protest, but I’m still somewhat amused.
“He made me sing part of ‘Stairway to Heaven’,” Roger snaps. “He deserves it.”
Violet shrugs and reaches for the phone. She smile expectantly at Roger “What’s his number?”
Listening to Violet fake a few tears and announce her pregnancy to Ryan makes Roger laugh so hard he has to go back in the kitchen for fear of Ryan hearing him. When he returns, Violet is hanging up and he’s dumped his bowl somewhere. He flops onto the couch between us and grins at Violet.
“Hey, you didn’t finish your dare. Where’s your casserole?” I demand, pushing on his shoulder.
“I finished it,” he insists. “So give me a new one.” He crosses his arms and waits, watching me.
“Fine, uh… I dare you to let Violet put makeup on you.” I challenge, looking over at the girl who giggles and goes for her purse.
Roger pouts for a moment, then shrugs, not wanting to back down, though I get the impression that being given a makeover doesn’t really phase him that much. “Whatever,” he says, moving to the floor. “Bring it on.”
“You have to keep it on for at least an hour so I can laugh at you.” I add, hoping to bruise his ego somehow, but he only shrugs again.
Violet turns up the light in the room and kneels in front of Roger who makes a face and closes his eyes before she sweeps some dark eyeshadow over his eyelids.
“Full face?” She asks me, pulling out some blush and a brush.
“Of course.” I grab another soda and stick another bag of popcorn in the microwave. I spot a few bags of chips next to the fridge and I bring those back to the other room.
It’s ridiculous how Roger manages to still look ridiculously masculine with a full face of makeup. He also seems so nonplussed about it that I want to continue our challenges just for a chance to get him riled up about something.
“So Mark, Truth or Dare.” He asks after a few more minutes while Violet caps her mascara. He moves to lie down on his stomach.
I frown at making the game official, and don’t want to know what kind of dares Roger has for me. Especially while he’s smiling up at me like that. I go with ‘truth’.
“So, who do you think about when you masturbate?” Roger asks, grinning and looking interested. Violet snorts into her Coke.
I sigh, knowing I should have known. It’s Roger after all. I try to think of the least embarrassing person.
“Winona Ryder.” I sigh. “Truth or Dare?”
He looks like he’s going to say something and then seems to consider for minute. Finally he just shrugs and goes with ‘truth’ as well. I want to hit him with the same question but it feels too lame to repeat his so I play nice, hoping for a chance to get him later.
“How many girls have you kissed?” I ask him, then realize there’s no way I have him beat and if he asks me back I’ll look like such a virgin.
“One.” He says without a thought, taking a handful of popcorn.
I sit up and stare down at him. Even Violet looks vaguely surprised. “One?”
“Yeah, one. What?” He demands, suddenly a bit defensive. “How many girls have you kissed?”
“Four.” I tell him, sitting back and feeling slightly more confident than before.
“Slut.” He grins, forgetting his defensiveness. “Anyone I know?”
“No, I doubt it.” I shrug. “Well, Nanette. But the rest were at like, Dad’s company picnics or girls I knew from temple.”
He nods and considers, then laughs under his breath and looks up again. “And you kissed them all like, what? Once or twice each?” He asks.
“Yeah, so?” I say, crossing my arms again.
“Well, mine was my girlfriend for a whole summer. So I have a whole summer of kissing. So I win.” He decides.
I snort indignantly. “How exactly do you win?”
Roger rolls onto his back and looks up at me, taking pleasure in my annoyance. “It’s quality, not quantity,” he reasons. “And I’ve got you beat on quantity too, actually, if we’re just talking number of kisses in general.”
“Wait. Are we competing over who’s done more kissing in general or who’s kisses count more?” I counter, attempting to follow his logic and annoyed at letting my testosterone get the better of me by letting him drag me into this fight in the first place.
Violet giggles and Roger looks up at her. “How many girls have you kissed?” He demands, then laughs softly. “Uh, boys, I mean. Unless…”
Violet smiles. “None.”
I squint at her. “But you said you went out with uh, whatshisname. Brian?”
Violet shrugs and wrinkles her nose. “Would you want to kiss him? Besides, he’s a total closet case. I can tell.” She says with a knowing wink.
Roger raises his eyebrows. “No way, Brian? Huh.” He grabs more popcorn then turns back to Violet. “You have any more food?”
“Pizza?” Violet asks, getting up.
We share a nod and Roger calls an affirmative to her and pulls himself up and waits for me to follow him. He pushes me good-naturedly when I’m standing next to him.
I steady myself and turn back to him. “I dare you to kiss Violet.” I challenge, intent upon teasing him a bit more.
Roger looks shocked. “No way. I dare you.”
“You need to up your kiss count.” I tease, nudging him.
“You like her.” He says, pushing me. I raise my eyebrows.
“I do not, you asshole. You should, come on, I dare you.”
Violet is holding two different pizzas and staring at us. I had thought she was still in the kitchen.
“Well, as tempting as that offer is, boys,” She says jokingly. “I think I’ll pass. Pepperoni or vegetable?”
Roger grins awkwardly and points at the pepperoni, shoving me playfully again on the way into the kitchen.