The Click, Chapter Three
Title: The Click
Rating: PG
Centric: High school twins.
Status: Complete.
Summary: When Joel makes the baseball team, his priorities shift from the band to the team. Can the band deal with the changes, or will they crumble and fall apart?
Joel's Point of View
"Hey, Joel, over here!" Donny Matthews waves. I stride over to the cafeteria table where he sits. The jock table. I never would have thought I would ever be invited to this table. It seems to have some ancient marking, like it's notoriously a sacred table or something, which it is. I smile, knowing this is a milestone for me. To be invited to sit at the table once, but being invited back is almost a bigger deal.
"Hey, what's going on?" I place my tray on table, taking a seat next to hi.
"Nothing much man, nothing much" he shakes his head. "So, are you in for tonight?"
"Tonight?" I stop midway though the sip of chocolate milk they had given me with the meal. The meal is free, as it is every other day, but they don't need to know that. The jocks do not need to know that my family is a total welfare case.
"Yeah, the mall... after practice?" he questions my knowledge of the topic.
"I... uh..." I stall. "I don't know..."
"What is there not to know about?" Matt questions with a slight annoyance mingling with his tone.
"I really should go to band practice... I said I'd be there at seven" I offer weakly.
"Band practice?" Alex snickers. "How lame is that?" the rest of the table laughs, following his lead. I hang my head slightly in embarrassment.
"So, who's in this band of yours?" Christina, Alex's girlfriend, asks.
"Um... me, Benj, Aaron, Paul..." I begin quietly.
"Could you get a bigger bunch of losers for your band?" Jacob taunts.
"Yeah, seriously. Did you hold a contest or something? Like "now seeking the biggest losers in the state" and they showed up?" Matt guffaws. The table hoots in unison. I can feel my face turning red.
"Well, I uh..." I murmur. Pretending like I agree with them, I force a laugh.
"What's with your brother anyway?" Christina laughs.
"Yeah, he's like tres gothic" Candi, Matt's girlfriend, giggles.
"He's a loser. He thinks he's so tough and everything, yet he still wears makeup" Jack babbles, causing the whole table to erupt in hysterics, yet again, at my bandmates' expense. Except this time, it's more personal.
"Yeah" I say quietly. I hate listening to people make fun of my friends, but my brother... that is an entirely new level. No one makes fun of Benji. It's like a mutual code, something we keep to regarding each other. It's my main rule, so why am I breaking it? Why am I sitting here and letting them rip on him, even going along with it myself? Simple: because I want to fit in. My gut twists with uneasiness and shamed guilt.
"Dude, they are so lame," Donny laughs bluntly. "I say you ditch those guys, like permanently."
"Yeah, definitely" Tristen nods.
I nod in lethargic knowledge. I will ultimately have to choose, won't I? How am I supposed to do that? I'll have to choose between popularity and my band. I can't ditch my band. They have been there since day one; they need me. On the other hand, I have fun with these people too. I feel important around them, like I matter. Besides, Benji and the guys could never hate me... right?
LATER THAT NIGHT
I race home, panting and grasping for breath, any oxygen my lungs can grasp. As is, I'm already exhausted from practice. I glance at my watch. 8:23. I cringe. I tried, I truly did. I got out as soon as I could. Maybe they're still practicing, maybe they started late. I embrace the idea as I throw open the door. A voice drifts from the basement, blending in with the instruments... singing. Someone is singing, and it isn't me. It's not Benji either.
"What the-" I whisper, pondering who the voice belongs to as I twist the doorknob of the door leading to the basement, our practice room.
I shuffle my feet slowly from step to step, as not to cause noise. At last, I reach the landing and my eyes shift to the band behind me. They obviously don't see me; they don't notice me standing there as they continue with the song. My song. I wrote the song along with my brother. My band is playing my song without me. What sets me off is who is in the singing position. My position, my place... and it isn't me.
I recognize the kid immediately as A.J Madison, the new kid at school. He towers above me by a good four inches and his slightly wavy blonde hair falls just above his shoulders. Several strands of large shot beads hand from his neck and a single piercing protrudes from his left eyebrow. He wears a Black Flag t-shirt and the rest of his clothes lie in the same monotone: black. His face somewhat resembles that of Kurt Cobain... and so does his voice.
That's one more thing, the biggest one. He can sing. He can really sing... quite well at that. His voice is rich and velvety, yet still rough. It's like the perfect rock voice and the fact he is only a junior such as Benji and me only adds to his credibility. He is better than I am... much better. Oh shit, he's better than me. I clear my throat for lack of anything better. Everyone turns to me and the room plummets into silence. Completely silent.
"What's going on?" I demand.
"Practice" Benji responds bluntly. I pointedly give him a look.
"No, really?" I snap sarcastically. "What's he doing here?" I gesture rudely towards A.J.
"Singing. What does it look like he's doing?" Benji retorts.
"Why? Why is he singing? You promised you would keep my spot open!" I exclaim angrily.
"Promised? Well, you should know as well as anyone that promises get broken. We figured you didn't care... that you were too busy" he accentuates the word "busy" as if it is disgusting, foul and poisonous. "But if you want to get in discussions about promises..."
"No. You knew I wanted to keep with the band. I do want to" I clench my teeth. Why were they being like this? This isn't exactly easy on me. I have to go to school, go to baseball practice and try to fit the band and homework around all that.
"Really? You could have fooled me," my brother mutters.
"What's your problem?" I cry. "Why are you being like this?"
"Why am I being like this?" Benji reiterates. "What about you Joel? Why are you being like this?"
"What?" I feel anger building in my chest. What, he's going to try to pin all this on me? He can't. It isn't my fault. I glance to my bandmates with narrowed eyes. They stand in complete silence just looking at the floor. Yeah, thanks guys.
"You're the one who all of a sudden keeps ditching us for the jocks. You really think they're your friends Joel? Do you really think that? Isn't it a little weird that they have never so much as talked to you up to a couple days ago? That they tortured you right up until you made the team? Isn't that just a bit weird? They aren't your friends Joel. They're not and you will see that. They're going to dump you and you're going to come crawling back on your hands and knees," Benji jeers.
"You're lying," I whisper, covering up the wounds from my twin's words.
"You think so? You really think so?" he hisses.
"Yeah. Yeah I do. Do you want to know what I really think?" Benji raises his eyebrows and then lowers them as if to say, "Bring it on."
"I think you're just jealous because I was good enough to make the team and you weren't. You can't handle the fact that I am better than you are. You're just jealous because I'm popular and you aren't. You aren't Benj, people like me better and that kills you, I know it does. I think you feel guilty for driving Dad away and now you are taking it out on me. You just can't stand the fact that I am going to add up to something and you won't. You never will." The room is dead silent as Benji's fist connects with my jaw. Hard. No, let me correct myself: really hard.
I scream in pain as the force from his punch throws me into the wall with such momentum a picture on the wall crashes to the floor. I cannot fight the tears. It hurts too much. I clench my jaw, mind screaming from the intense pain. The full effect of what I said hurriedly sinks in, hitting me as hard as the fist. Oh God... tell me I did not just really say that. Tell me that did not just happen...
My eyes catch him coming towards me through clouded eyes. I huddle closer to the wall, raising the hand not cradling my jawbone in defense.
"Don't Benj, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said, I didn't. You know I didn't mean it. Don't hurt me, please... I'm sorry, don't kill me... please... please..." tears roll freely down my cheeks. This is the first time in my life I have ever been afraid of him. My whole life he has always been the one to comfort me and keep me safe. He always protected me from Dad. This is the first time he has ever genuinely hurt me. And I deserve every second of this pain.
I am a horrible person. I am such a bad person. Basically, I just told my twin, the person I care for the most, that I hate him and he is worthless. The pain is like individual daggers, piecing and pulsing throughout my jaw. I cough as a coppery substance fills my mouth; I bit my tongue. I cough harder and spit a mixture of saliva and blood onto the concrete floor. The mixture is crimson, a deep scarlet red.
I wince, waiting for another hit, another surge of pain, but none such thing comes. Instead, I feel hands on my shoulders, aggressive, yet somehow gentle, pulling me up and from the wall onto my feet. As soon as my feet, toes to heels, touch the floor I am shoved harshly towards the stairs.
"Go. Get out" my brother, my own twin, whispers hatefully. He hates me. I can't bear to look him in the eye. I nod, coughing back the carmine liquid. I stifle a scream as another string of pain shoots throughout my jaw. I push the image of my bandmates' faces as I hobble up the stairs.
I stumble into the bathroom, my movements ever bit as shaky as the breath I take in. By now, I am all out sobbing, quivering from the body-racking wails controlling my body. My intense tears are partly from the emotional pain, partly from the physical pain. It's impossible to explain, but as excruciating as the physical pain is, the emotional pain aches much deeper.
I have lost so much. I feel as if I have lost everything. I mean, it even feels as if I have lost myself. Everything I stand for seems to have disintegrated, leaving me an empty shell. It's as if I have lost my personality and my conscious... my life. It's like I am being forced to sit and watch as someone else lives my life, destroying everything meaning the most to me.
The thing is, I'm the one doing this. Though I don't want to, I nevertheless am responsible for my own downfall. I've lost my friends. I mean, sure, I can say the jocks are my friends, but they're just so superficial. It's like I know they don't really care if I live or die, but I can't exactly just leave them. I mean, what do I have to fall back on? Billy, Aaron and Paul hate me now. Not that I blame them, I hate myself too. I am just another sellout, another statistic of giving in.
I am losing myself and everything pertaining to meaning. I'm grieving, I am truly grieving the loss of myself, my friends, and most of all, the loss of my twin brother. My twin brother, my other half, the sole reason I allow myself to live my life- because he won't let me think of anything otherwise. And now he's gone. Even though he is in the basement below, he's gone... from me anyhow.
He hates me now, he has to hate me. There is now way he could forgive me for this. I just told him he was useless, basically anything I could possibly throw out there to make it seem as if I hated him I did. I will never be able to forget the look in his eyes or the tone in his voice... hatred. I have lost my identical twin and words cannot possibly describe how horrible I feel.
A wave of nausea rushes over me as I stabilize myself on the porcelain sink. Dare I look in the mirror? I glance up to my reflection, disgusted at what I see. My jaw is swollen, redness and bruises dotted about. Some blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. I sigh, wondering if it is really worth it to wash it off. I take a tissue and gingerly dab at my jaw. I grimace as even the light tough of a Kleenex forces pain through my jaw. Sucking in a deep breath, I wonder how long I can take this pain. Whatever the answer, I deserve it. I am a horrible person and I deserve every second of this.
My eyes are red and puffy as well, thoroughly bloodshot. I let out a frustrated groan, throwing the tissues down into the basin. I vomit, heaving my full stomach into the sink, not having the strength or energy to make the two-foot move to the toilet. I am shaking heavily, tremors of sobs pulsating through my weak body. I shakily perch myself on the edge of the bathtub. I cannot help the tears. I am so frustrated, so confused... in so much pain.
I scream as the dull pain morphs into constant pounding, my head begins to ache and I begin feeling woozy. Soon everything turns to red and then slowly fades to black as I repeat the thought of,
"EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES...."
Rating: PG
Centric: High school twins.
Status: Complete.
Summary: When Joel makes the baseball team, his priorities shift from the band to the team. Can the band deal with the changes, or will they crumble and fall apart?
Joel's Point of View
"Hey, Joel, over here!" Donny Matthews waves. I stride over to the cafeteria table where he sits. The jock table. I never would have thought I would ever be invited to this table. It seems to have some ancient marking, like it's notoriously a sacred table or something, which it is. I smile, knowing this is a milestone for me. To be invited to sit at the table once, but being invited back is almost a bigger deal.
"Hey, what's going on?" I place my tray on table, taking a seat next to hi.
"Nothing much man, nothing much" he shakes his head. "So, are you in for tonight?"
"Tonight?" I stop midway though the sip of chocolate milk they had given me with the meal. The meal is free, as it is every other day, but they don't need to know that. The jocks do not need to know that my family is a total welfare case.
"Yeah, the mall... after practice?" he questions my knowledge of the topic.
"I... uh..." I stall. "I don't know..."
"What is there not to know about?" Matt questions with a slight annoyance mingling with his tone.
"I really should go to band practice... I said I'd be there at seven" I offer weakly.
"Band practice?" Alex snickers. "How lame is that?" the rest of the table laughs, following his lead. I hang my head slightly in embarrassment.
"So, who's in this band of yours?" Christina, Alex's girlfriend, asks.
"Um... me, Benj, Aaron, Paul..." I begin quietly.
"Could you get a bigger bunch of losers for your band?" Jacob taunts.
"Yeah, seriously. Did you hold a contest or something? Like "now seeking the biggest losers in the state" and they showed up?" Matt guffaws. The table hoots in unison. I can feel my face turning red.
"Well, I uh..." I murmur. Pretending like I agree with them, I force a laugh.
"What's with your brother anyway?" Christina laughs.
"Yeah, he's like tres gothic" Candi, Matt's girlfriend, giggles.
"He's a loser. He thinks he's so tough and everything, yet he still wears makeup" Jack babbles, causing the whole table to erupt in hysterics, yet again, at my bandmates' expense. Except this time, it's more personal.
"Yeah" I say quietly. I hate listening to people make fun of my friends, but my brother... that is an entirely new level. No one makes fun of Benji. It's like a mutual code, something we keep to regarding each other. It's my main rule, so why am I breaking it? Why am I sitting here and letting them rip on him, even going along with it myself? Simple: because I want to fit in. My gut twists with uneasiness and shamed guilt.
"Dude, they are so lame," Donny laughs bluntly. "I say you ditch those guys, like permanently."
"Yeah, definitely" Tristen nods.
I nod in lethargic knowledge. I will ultimately have to choose, won't I? How am I supposed to do that? I'll have to choose between popularity and my band. I can't ditch my band. They have been there since day one; they need me. On the other hand, I have fun with these people too. I feel important around them, like I matter. Besides, Benji and the guys could never hate me... right?
LATER THAT NIGHT
I race home, panting and grasping for breath, any oxygen my lungs can grasp. As is, I'm already exhausted from practice. I glance at my watch. 8:23. I cringe. I tried, I truly did. I got out as soon as I could. Maybe they're still practicing, maybe they started late. I embrace the idea as I throw open the door. A voice drifts from the basement, blending in with the instruments... singing. Someone is singing, and it isn't me. It's not Benji either.
"What the-" I whisper, pondering who the voice belongs to as I twist the doorknob of the door leading to the basement, our practice room.
I shuffle my feet slowly from step to step, as not to cause noise. At last, I reach the landing and my eyes shift to the band behind me. They obviously don't see me; they don't notice me standing there as they continue with the song. My song. I wrote the song along with my brother. My band is playing my song without me. What sets me off is who is in the singing position. My position, my place... and it isn't me.
I recognize the kid immediately as A.J Madison, the new kid at school. He towers above me by a good four inches and his slightly wavy blonde hair falls just above his shoulders. Several strands of large shot beads hand from his neck and a single piercing protrudes from his left eyebrow. He wears a Black Flag t-shirt and the rest of his clothes lie in the same monotone: black. His face somewhat resembles that of Kurt Cobain... and so does his voice.
That's one more thing, the biggest one. He can sing. He can really sing... quite well at that. His voice is rich and velvety, yet still rough. It's like the perfect rock voice and the fact he is only a junior such as Benji and me only adds to his credibility. He is better than I am... much better. Oh shit, he's better than me. I clear my throat for lack of anything better. Everyone turns to me and the room plummets into silence. Completely silent.
"What's going on?" I demand.
"Practice" Benji responds bluntly. I pointedly give him a look.
"No, really?" I snap sarcastically. "What's he doing here?" I gesture rudely towards A.J.
"Singing. What does it look like he's doing?" Benji retorts.
"Why? Why is he singing? You promised you would keep my spot open!" I exclaim angrily.
"Promised? Well, you should know as well as anyone that promises get broken. We figured you didn't care... that you were too busy" he accentuates the word "busy" as if it is disgusting, foul and poisonous. "But if you want to get in discussions about promises..."
"No. You knew I wanted to keep with the band. I do want to" I clench my teeth. Why were they being like this? This isn't exactly easy on me. I have to go to school, go to baseball practice and try to fit the band and homework around all that.
"Really? You could have fooled me," my brother mutters.
"What's your problem?" I cry. "Why are you being like this?"
"Why am I being like this?" Benji reiterates. "What about you Joel? Why are you being like this?"
"What?" I feel anger building in my chest. What, he's going to try to pin all this on me? He can't. It isn't my fault. I glance to my bandmates with narrowed eyes. They stand in complete silence just looking at the floor. Yeah, thanks guys.
"You're the one who all of a sudden keeps ditching us for the jocks. You really think they're your friends Joel? Do you really think that? Isn't it a little weird that they have never so much as talked to you up to a couple days ago? That they tortured you right up until you made the team? Isn't that just a bit weird? They aren't your friends Joel. They're not and you will see that. They're going to dump you and you're going to come crawling back on your hands and knees," Benji jeers.
"You're lying," I whisper, covering up the wounds from my twin's words.
"You think so? You really think so?" he hisses.
"Yeah. Yeah I do. Do you want to know what I really think?" Benji raises his eyebrows and then lowers them as if to say, "Bring it on."
"I think you're just jealous because I was good enough to make the team and you weren't. You can't handle the fact that I am better than you are. You're just jealous because I'm popular and you aren't. You aren't Benj, people like me better and that kills you, I know it does. I think you feel guilty for driving Dad away and now you are taking it out on me. You just can't stand the fact that I am going to add up to something and you won't. You never will." The room is dead silent as Benji's fist connects with my jaw. Hard. No, let me correct myself: really hard.
I scream in pain as the force from his punch throws me into the wall with such momentum a picture on the wall crashes to the floor. I cannot fight the tears. It hurts too much. I clench my jaw, mind screaming from the intense pain. The full effect of what I said hurriedly sinks in, hitting me as hard as the fist. Oh God... tell me I did not just really say that. Tell me that did not just happen...
My eyes catch him coming towards me through clouded eyes. I huddle closer to the wall, raising the hand not cradling my jawbone in defense.
"Don't Benj, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said, I didn't. You know I didn't mean it. Don't hurt me, please... I'm sorry, don't kill me... please... please..." tears roll freely down my cheeks. This is the first time in my life I have ever been afraid of him. My whole life he has always been the one to comfort me and keep me safe. He always protected me from Dad. This is the first time he has ever genuinely hurt me. And I deserve every second of this pain.
I am a horrible person. I am such a bad person. Basically, I just told my twin, the person I care for the most, that I hate him and he is worthless. The pain is like individual daggers, piecing and pulsing throughout my jaw. I cough as a coppery substance fills my mouth; I bit my tongue. I cough harder and spit a mixture of saliva and blood onto the concrete floor. The mixture is crimson, a deep scarlet red.
I wince, waiting for another hit, another surge of pain, but none such thing comes. Instead, I feel hands on my shoulders, aggressive, yet somehow gentle, pulling me up and from the wall onto my feet. As soon as my feet, toes to heels, touch the floor I am shoved harshly towards the stairs.
"Go. Get out" my brother, my own twin, whispers hatefully. He hates me. I can't bear to look him in the eye. I nod, coughing back the carmine liquid. I stifle a scream as another string of pain shoots throughout my jaw. I push the image of my bandmates' faces as I hobble up the stairs.
I stumble into the bathroom, my movements ever bit as shaky as the breath I take in. By now, I am all out sobbing, quivering from the body-racking wails controlling my body. My intense tears are partly from the emotional pain, partly from the physical pain. It's impossible to explain, but as excruciating as the physical pain is, the emotional pain aches much deeper.
I have lost so much. I feel as if I have lost everything. I mean, it even feels as if I have lost myself. Everything I stand for seems to have disintegrated, leaving me an empty shell. It's as if I have lost my personality and my conscious... my life. It's like I am being forced to sit and watch as someone else lives my life, destroying everything meaning the most to me.
The thing is, I'm the one doing this. Though I don't want to, I nevertheless am responsible for my own downfall. I've lost my friends. I mean, sure, I can say the jocks are my friends, but they're just so superficial. It's like I know they don't really care if I live or die, but I can't exactly just leave them. I mean, what do I have to fall back on? Billy, Aaron and Paul hate me now. Not that I blame them, I hate myself too. I am just another sellout, another statistic of giving in.
I am losing myself and everything pertaining to meaning. I'm grieving, I am truly grieving the loss of myself, my friends, and most of all, the loss of my twin brother. My twin brother, my other half, the sole reason I allow myself to live my life- because he won't let me think of anything otherwise. And now he's gone. Even though he is in the basement below, he's gone... from me anyhow.
He hates me now, he has to hate me. There is now way he could forgive me for this. I just told him he was useless, basically anything I could possibly throw out there to make it seem as if I hated him I did. I will never be able to forget the look in his eyes or the tone in his voice... hatred. I have lost my identical twin and words cannot possibly describe how horrible I feel.
A wave of nausea rushes over me as I stabilize myself on the porcelain sink. Dare I look in the mirror? I glance up to my reflection, disgusted at what I see. My jaw is swollen, redness and bruises dotted about. Some blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. I sigh, wondering if it is really worth it to wash it off. I take a tissue and gingerly dab at my jaw. I grimace as even the light tough of a Kleenex forces pain through my jaw. Sucking in a deep breath, I wonder how long I can take this pain. Whatever the answer, I deserve it. I am a horrible person and I deserve every second of this.
My eyes are red and puffy as well, thoroughly bloodshot. I let out a frustrated groan, throwing the tissues down into the basin. I vomit, heaving my full stomach into the sink, not having the strength or energy to make the two-foot move to the toilet. I am shaking heavily, tremors of sobs pulsating through my weak body. I shakily perch myself on the edge of the bathtub. I cannot help the tears. I am so frustrated, so confused... in so much pain.
I scream as the dull pain morphs into constant pounding, my head begins to ache and I begin feeling woozy. Soon everything turns to red and then slowly fades to black as I repeat the thought of,
"EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES ME, I DESERVE THIS. EVERYONE HATES...."