The Click, Chapter Five
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?
"Hey Combs... we have an idea" Frankie whispers, amusement to his tone as he leans over his table to whisper closely to me. "It'll be so great" he chuckles as I glance to the teacher, Mr. Brinks, as he carries on with his photosynthesis lecture.
"What kind of idea?" I whisper suspiciously. I have a nagging suspicion whatever he has in mind cannot be good.
"Okay, you know those losers, your old group? The ones in the band?" he asks. I nod guiltily. "Yeah, well we have this idea, kind of a sign of you joining our group. You know, kind of like cutting old ties or whatever." He continues, seemingly conveniently skating around the exact plan. Cutting old ties? Do I really want to do that? I mean, sure these guys are my friends, but only as long as I fit to their standards.
My old group? I could wear a pink satin leisure suit for all they care. True, they'd be making fun of me until the end of time, but they'd hang out with me nonetheless. They accepted me no matter what. But after all I have done... would they really ever accept me back again. If I do whatever this plan is, it will kind of cement my position in this group... won't it?
"Frankie..." I hiss. "What is it?" I'm beginning to feel more than a little frustrated, but somewhat afraid too. He seems to be avoiding the topic... is that bad? Well, it can't be good, can it?
"Okay, alright, chill" he rolls his eyes. "You know those huge buckets in the back of the art room? The ones with, like, four gallons of paint? Well, Donny has access to the storage room and he says they have about six different shades of pink, purple, and pale yellow... real girly colors, you know?"
"And..." I encourage.
"And we can jack them up and pour it all over them!" he breaks into a wide grin. "I figure we can do it after lunch. That way, they'll have to walk through the halls during passing time, like completely drenched, in paint!"
Frankie beams, obviously proud of his plan. I force a tiny smile. I can't do this, no way that I can. No matter how angry I am with those guys, I can't do this to them. Especially Benj. I mean, I'm not actually mad. This whole thing has been my fault, not theirs. I accept complete responsibility.
"I don't..." I stall.
"Oh, c'mon Combs!" Frankie sneers. "If you skip out on this, you skip out of the group. You're out. If you don't do this you're showing us no loyalty." Actually, in not doing it I'd be showing loyalty... just not to these guys, but to my band. My real friends.
"I..." I protest weakly. "I... okay." My heart snaps in two.
"Alright, cool. You've got your brother" he grins. I stare at him blankly. No way... Yet I gulp with a nod, glancing to the back of my brother's head a couple of seats before me.
I'm sorry Benj, I really am, I will these words to reach him as I plead them within my head.
________________________________________________________________________________
"One of you needs to sit at this table" Mrs. Greesly, the old substitute teacher who practically lives at school between teaching gigs, instructs loudly. It's a new rule at out school: every single seat at every single table must be filled. And she's pointing at my group. And the table? Naturally, with my luck, it's my former band's table. Around me, every single one of my so-called friends denies sitting in the sole empty chair.
"One of you, snap, snap." I feel everyone looking to me. With a reluctant sigh, and an even more reluctant nod I slide down into the empty chair, feeling everyone's attention shift to me. I want to be invisible. I really, truly do.
"Alright" Benji clears his throat, continuing on as if I'm not here. Fine with me, the less attention I attract the better. "Okay, so, A.J, can you come tonight?"
"Yeah, your house, right?" A.J asks, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew. He has the type of voice you would attribute to a surfer; not necessarily the type of voice that would equal a good singer, which he obviously is.
"Yeah, six sharp. We have to get ready for that gig next week" Benji says. Gig? Since when does Good Charlotte get gigs? We'd been denied several just on the basis of our name and talked of changing it, but Benji insisted it would get us somewhere, which we have yet to see. Nevertheless, we have been searching for one unsuccessfully. I almost ask what the gig is, but I'm not welcome obviously. But, as they get into a deep conversation entailing every positive and negative, I can soon figure that the gig is located downtown at the coffee shop.
"So, Joel, what's it like being a sellout?" Aaron quips unexpectedly. Like I said before, Aaron doesn't truly like anyone, therefore if he's mad at you or doesn't like you, you're in for it sixty times worse. I glare at him, but say nothing.
"No, really, what's it like? We'd like to know. What's it like to sellout?" he persists with a smirk on his face.
"Why do you care? I snap.
"Oh, I don't, trust me" he smiles. "But you know those guys are going to ditch you the first time you do or wear something they don't consider cool. Then what are you left with? Oh, wait, let's see... maybe the nerd table?" He's good at talking, I'll give him that.
"I don't know Aaron, I don't sit at this table anymore" I sneer. Crap, I'm just getting myself in deeper and deeper.
"You know what, Joel? How about you just shut up? You're not welcomed her and you won't be welcome with your little jock friends for much longer either, I assure you that" Aaron jeers.
"If I want to shut up, I will. If I don't, I won't. Back off" I jab through clenched teeth.
"Ooh, I'm scared" Aaron he rolls his eyes. "What are you going to do? Sick your posse on me?"
"Posse?" I give him a dirty look, but it's a questioning one at the same time. Aaron has always despised that word.
"Yeah, posse" he jaunts. "That's what all losers have, isn't it?" He really is like that Energizer bunny; he just keeps going and going.
"Shut up man, you would know" I glare.
"Yeah, actually, I probably would, wouldn't I?" he pauses. "I did used to hang around with you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did. And I can't believe we were ever friends either, so..." I exhale, trying to even my breathing out.
"We weren't. We were never friends. The only reason any of us ever hung out with you was because we're friends with Benji and you always tagged along for everything, like a disease or something" his eyes narrow. I stare at him blankly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I mutter, angry gaze focused on him.
"What do you think it's supposed to mean?" he fires. "You were practically Benji's shadow. You invited yourself along to everything. You thought just because Benji was going somewhere you were automatically invited, like you were entitled to it or something. You did that with everyone, everything. I was sick of it, Billy was, Paul was... hell, even Benji was sick of it. Even he was sick of you."
"Aaron, just shut up" Benji murmurs. I look to him in surprise.
"What?" Aaron's eyes grow slightly at someone calling him out on this.
"Shut up. Alright, yeah, it's done, but you don't need to be like this. You guys were friends, and all you're doing now is making an ass out of yourself. And him tagging along... he was invited. We're twins, it goes with the deal." Did he just stick up for me? I was that big of an ass to him and he still stuck up to me?
"Whatever, Benj" Aaron mutters, slamming his fork to his tray.
"Ready to go, Combs?" Danny's voice enters my ears. "Sorry you got stuck with these losers." He and Benji exchange looks.
"Yeah" I nod, getting from my chair. "It's not like I'm actually going to eat this anyway." I look to the disgusting 'food' on my plate.
We start to walk from the table and Danny puts his lips close to my ear.
"This is going to be so awesome" he rubs his hands together deviously. Dread overtakes me as I think about the plan... the paint.
"Yeah" I swallow sharply. "Awesome."
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?
"Hey Combs... we have an idea" Frankie whispers, amusement to his tone as he leans over his table to whisper closely to me. "It'll be so great" he chuckles as I glance to the teacher, Mr. Brinks, as he carries on with his photosynthesis lecture.
"What kind of idea?" I whisper suspiciously. I have a nagging suspicion whatever he has in mind cannot be good.
"Okay, you know those losers, your old group? The ones in the band?" he asks. I nod guiltily. "Yeah, well we have this idea, kind of a sign of you joining our group. You know, kind of like cutting old ties or whatever." He continues, seemingly conveniently skating around the exact plan. Cutting old ties? Do I really want to do that? I mean, sure these guys are my friends, but only as long as I fit to their standards.
My old group? I could wear a pink satin leisure suit for all they care. True, they'd be making fun of me until the end of time, but they'd hang out with me nonetheless. They accepted me no matter what. But after all I have done... would they really ever accept me back again. If I do whatever this plan is, it will kind of cement my position in this group... won't it?
"Frankie..." I hiss. "What is it?" I'm beginning to feel more than a little frustrated, but somewhat afraid too. He seems to be avoiding the topic... is that bad? Well, it can't be good, can it?
"Okay, alright, chill" he rolls his eyes. "You know those huge buckets in the back of the art room? The ones with, like, four gallons of paint? Well, Donny has access to the storage room and he says they have about six different shades of pink, purple, and pale yellow... real girly colors, you know?"
"And..." I encourage.
"And we can jack them up and pour it all over them!" he breaks into a wide grin. "I figure we can do it after lunch. That way, they'll have to walk through the halls during passing time, like completely drenched, in paint!"
Frankie beams, obviously proud of his plan. I force a tiny smile. I can't do this, no way that I can. No matter how angry I am with those guys, I can't do this to them. Especially Benj. I mean, I'm not actually mad. This whole thing has been my fault, not theirs. I accept complete responsibility.
"I don't..." I stall.
"Oh, c'mon Combs!" Frankie sneers. "If you skip out on this, you skip out of the group. You're out. If you don't do this you're showing us no loyalty." Actually, in not doing it I'd be showing loyalty... just not to these guys, but to my band. My real friends.
"I..." I protest weakly. "I... okay." My heart snaps in two.
"Alright, cool. You've got your brother" he grins. I stare at him blankly. No way... Yet I gulp with a nod, glancing to the back of my brother's head a couple of seats before me.
I'm sorry Benj, I really am, I will these words to reach him as I plead them within my head.
________________________________________________________________________________
"One of you needs to sit at this table" Mrs. Greesly, the old substitute teacher who practically lives at school between teaching gigs, instructs loudly. It's a new rule at out school: every single seat at every single table must be filled. And she's pointing at my group. And the table? Naturally, with my luck, it's my former band's table. Around me, every single one of my so-called friends denies sitting in the sole empty chair.
"One of you, snap, snap." I feel everyone looking to me. With a reluctant sigh, and an even more reluctant nod I slide down into the empty chair, feeling everyone's attention shift to me. I want to be invisible. I really, truly do.
"Alright" Benji clears his throat, continuing on as if I'm not here. Fine with me, the less attention I attract the better. "Okay, so, A.J, can you come tonight?"
"Yeah, your house, right?" A.J asks, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew. He has the type of voice you would attribute to a surfer; not necessarily the type of voice that would equal a good singer, which he obviously is.
"Yeah, six sharp. We have to get ready for that gig next week" Benji says. Gig? Since when does Good Charlotte get gigs? We'd been denied several just on the basis of our name and talked of changing it, but Benji insisted it would get us somewhere, which we have yet to see. Nevertheless, we have been searching for one unsuccessfully. I almost ask what the gig is, but I'm not welcome obviously. But, as they get into a deep conversation entailing every positive and negative, I can soon figure that the gig is located downtown at the coffee shop.
"So, Joel, what's it like being a sellout?" Aaron quips unexpectedly. Like I said before, Aaron doesn't truly like anyone, therefore if he's mad at you or doesn't like you, you're in for it sixty times worse. I glare at him, but say nothing.
"No, really, what's it like? We'd like to know. What's it like to sellout?" he persists with a smirk on his face.
"Why do you care? I snap.
"Oh, I don't, trust me" he smiles. "But you know those guys are going to ditch you the first time you do or wear something they don't consider cool. Then what are you left with? Oh, wait, let's see... maybe the nerd table?" He's good at talking, I'll give him that.
"I don't know Aaron, I don't sit at this table anymore" I sneer. Crap, I'm just getting myself in deeper and deeper.
"You know what, Joel? How about you just shut up? You're not welcomed her and you won't be welcome with your little jock friends for much longer either, I assure you that" Aaron jeers.
"If I want to shut up, I will. If I don't, I won't. Back off" I jab through clenched teeth.
"Ooh, I'm scared" Aaron he rolls his eyes. "What are you going to do? Sick your posse on me?"
"Posse?" I give him a dirty look, but it's a questioning one at the same time. Aaron has always despised that word.
"Yeah, posse" he jaunts. "That's what all losers have, isn't it?" He really is like that Energizer bunny; he just keeps going and going.
"Shut up man, you would know" I glare.
"Yeah, actually, I probably would, wouldn't I?" he pauses. "I did used to hang around with you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did. And I can't believe we were ever friends either, so..." I exhale, trying to even my breathing out.
"We weren't. We were never friends. The only reason any of us ever hung out with you was because we're friends with Benji and you always tagged along for everything, like a disease or something" his eyes narrow. I stare at him blankly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I mutter, angry gaze focused on him.
"What do you think it's supposed to mean?" he fires. "You were practically Benji's shadow. You invited yourself along to everything. You thought just because Benji was going somewhere you were automatically invited, like you were entitled to it or something. You did that with everyone, everything. I was sick of it, Billy was, Paul was... hell, even Benji was sick of it. Even he was sick of you."
"Aaron, just shut up" Benji murmurs. I look to him in surprise.
"What?" Aaron's eyes grow slightly at someone calling him out on this.
"Shut up. Alright, yeah, it's done, but you don't need to be like this. You guys were friends, and all you're doing now is making an ass out of yourself. And him tagging along... he was invited. We're twins, it goes with the deal." Did he just stick up for me? I was that big of an ass to him and he still stuck up to me?
"Whatever, Benj" Aaron mutters, slamming his fork to his tray.
"Ready to go, Combs?" Danny's voice enters my ears. "Sorry you got stuck with these losers." He and Benji exchange looks.
"Yeah" I nod, getting from my chair. "It's not like I'm actually going to eat this anyway." I look to the disgusting 'food' on my plate.
We start to walk from the table and Danny puts his lips close to my ear.
"This is going to be so awesome" he rubs his hands together deviously. Dread overtakes me as I think about the plan... the paint.
"Yeah" I swallow sharply. "Awesome."