Chapter 1

Note: Some of the indents were taken out automatically on here, and I don't feel like fixing it. Just don't get confused.

The familiar neon sign above Club Frisco greeted me as I reached the building. It was hot today, almost too hot for the end of August. It should be getting slowly cooler by now, gearing up for the arrival of fall and eventually winter. Very soon the leaves would change from green to red and orange, and fly down to the earth. From there they would harden into a brown shell, just waiting for a person to step on them and make a satisfying crunch. But for now the green leaves of the summer stayed rooted to their branches, slowly swaying with the ongoing breezes of the day.
I never had enough time to appreciate nature for very long because I was always rushing somewhere. Today I was rushing to work, thinking about what I had to do when I got in. I was already in my uniform, standard black pants and white polo shirt. I needed to put my hair up in a quick ponytail and wipe down the counter before people started flooding in. Then when the band of the night got there, I was to ask if they needed any drinks or food or anything at all, because the Frisco stage was solely theirs tonight and everything was free for them.
Club Frisco was a small place set back in the lush trees of Davie, Florida. I worked at there mostly because of the music. It was fun seeing small bands play every Thursday, which was one of the only times I could work because I wasn’t permitted to serve alcohol. I worked most of the all-ages shows, but Thursday night was directed at teenagers, and every week a new band would be showcased. They were usually intimate shows where the common barrier between band and audience was annihilated.
I reached my counter inside the run-down theater that had been redecorated back in the early ninety’s. It wasn’t the biggest or most modern place, but it was popular among the youth of the county. Thursdays were a big night, at least when there wasn’t a rivalry game or another concert going on.
“Hey, Hazel,” my boss, Michael, walked up to me. He was in his late twenties, and an all around nice guy. “The band’s coming in just a second, so make sure they’re comfortable. They’ll set up everything themselves, and do a quick sound check.” His cell phone started to ring and he walked briskly out the door without looking at me.
I threw my light brown hair up in a ponytail and got to work wiping the counter. Very soon a group of four young guys walked in carrying equipment and instruments, and I assumed that this was the band. They took to assembling their things, playing small bits of music now and then to test out the sound.
I studied them, trying to decide exactly what music they were going to play. They seemed like a typical band, complete with an electric guitar, bass guitar, acoustic guitar, a drum set, and plenty of microphones.
One sat a little in front of the others cradling an acoustic guitar while sitting on a stool. I judged he was probably the lead singer. He had shaggy blond hair with dark roots and the beginnings of a five o’ clock shadow. He looked like the oldest, especially since the other’s faces were clean shaven.
Another was presumably the youngest, his face a little chubby and bumpy. He had spiky brown hair, average brown eyes, and an electric guitar was draped over his shoulder.
The drummer had a red handkerchief tied around his straight black hair, and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He was the perfect picture of a grungy rocker in a garage band, though he didn’t look intimidating.
The last I noticed was a boy I recognized from my high school, who played the bass. I was almost sure he didn’t know who I was, but I remembered him because he had been in a car accident last year. Though I should’ve, I couldn’t recall his name as I searched his face. He had dark brown hair that rained down on his forehead in V’s and swished over to his left ear effortlessly. He stood out a little because he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, contrasting the others who wore thin t-shirts. I didn’t know how someone could bear to wear something warm today of all days, but I swiftly remembered Michael’s instructions and stepped out from the counter.
“Hey guys, welcome to Frisco. Is there anything I can get you, like a soda or something?”
“I’m okay,” the blonde front man said quickly. He looked back at the others. “What about you guys?”
“I’ll take a Sprite,” the drummer called clearly. I was a little surprised at his voice. I’d expected more of a tough mumble to roll out of his mouth, instead of a voice clear as a bell.
“Okay. Anything to eat?” They all shook their heads slowly, except for the brown haired one with boyish cheeks, who looked down at his guitar shyly.
I nodded and walked off the raised portion of the room (Michael claimed this was the stage) where they’d set up. I felt a pair of eyes on me, maybe two, as I walked away to get the soda.
When I returned holding the drink, the drummer and bassist were perched on stools echoing the curve of the counter, and the other two were gone. I set the Sprite in front of the black haired one, quietly announcing “Here you go.”
“Uh, I kind of changed my mind,” the boy I recognized spoke up. “Could I have a Coke?”
I nodded and turned to get it. This time when I arrived, the blonde was up on the stage at the other end of the room. He strummed his acoustic guitar quietly. It was a pretty tune, a likeable one. I gave the Coke to the boy, and continued wiping the table. I was very aware of the boys sitting at the counter, feeling like they were watching me as I worked.
After a few moments, the brown haired boy spoke to me again. “Do you go to Nova High?”
I was closer now, inching my way around to where he was. “Yep. You’re the one who got in that car wreck last year, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me. My name’s Ellis.”
“I’m Hazel.” I smiled. “It’s cool you’re in a band.”
“Thanks.” Silence ensued. “You’re going into eleventh grade?” He piped up.
I nodded.
“Me too. I’ll probably see you in the halls or something, then.” He took a swig of his drink, and rose.
Since the band was almost completely assembled, I left them to do a sound check while I greeted the kids who were coming in the main door. I could usually predict what the band was like by the people who came to their shows. There was a mix of different stereotypes, like preps, punks, skaters, and jocks, but they all seemed like serious people. There weren’t any screaming girls, who came mostly to the shows where gorgeous boy bands played upbeat pop rock music. They weren’t talking in loud, excited voices, but their words mixed together in a swell of voices.
There weren’t many of them, and they didn’t seem to be the type of audience that would be rowdy, so I didn’t waste time watching. I slipped back in the room where the band was. They were practicing a song highlighted with simple guitar melodies and smooth tenor vocals. The blonde was still sitting on his stool with his guitar, now with a microphone bending towards his mouth. Very casually I started to clean the soda machine to pass the time, something I usually did when the conversation turned to an awkward silence to give the hint that I had to keep working. It had become a habit I supposed, and I was still wiping when the song finished.
“How was that?” the lead called out to me.
I turned, surprised. “I liked it.”
The whole band grinned at me. “Good,” he said. “That’s our favorite to play live.”
Suddenly Michael stumbled in the room, probably rushing to get everything just right. “Hazel, did you offer them anything?” He said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, thanks.” He turned to the stage. “Do you guys want the audience standing or do you want chairs and tables?”
Blondie sucked air through his teeth in thought. “How about half and half?”
“Sounds good. Hazel, can you get on that?” He didn’t look to see if I’d heard him again, and shuffled out.
I dropped the rag on the counter and headed for the closet at the back of the room. Stored there were black folding chairs, tables, and tablecloths. I proceeded to unload a table, and heard sounds of instruments being put down and footsteps heading my way. I swiveled to place the table, and sure enough the band was coming over to help.
“Thanks, guys. You really don’t have to help me, you know.”
The drummer shrugged. “It’s cool.”
I didn’t protest after that. The room was all ready in about five minutes. If I’d done it all myself, it could have dragged on for about fifteen. During this, I couldn’t help but stare at a scar on the back of Ellis’s neck. He must have gotten in the wreck. Instantly my mind was filled with a ghastly picture of Ellis with a piece of glass wedged in his skin. I shivered.
“Um, do you want anything else to drink?”
“Do you have water?” Blondie asked.
“Yeah.” I answered. Ellis came up behind him. I noticed a V of sweat beginning to form below his neck. He hadn’t even rolled up his sleeves yet. “How many?”
“Four, please.”
I got them their water, and then kids started pouring in. Quite a crowd had amounted since I’d seen them last. Kids started forming a mass in front of the stage, where the band was adjusting their amps. A drum beat rolled out from the stage, and the throng started to cheer and jump a little.
The lead singer had changed his acoustic guitar to electric. He cranked out the opening chords, accompanied by bass and another guitar. The light dimmed slowly. A few costumers appeared in front of counter, which kept me from fully listening to the music. It was annoying not being able to enjoy it, but that was the price I had paid to work here.
The line thinned for a moment, and I took the opportunity to rest my elbow on the counter. Absentmindedly I twirled my fingers around the now dirty rag I used to wipe everything. The upbeat song the band had been playing stopped, and the front man, Blondie, leaned in towards the microphone.
“This next one is about a girl who broke up me,” he smiled. “It’s our favorite to play live, and I think you’ll see why.”
He grabbed his acoustic and plucked out some notes while the other guitarist strummed his guitar. I recognized it as the one I’d heard earlier. Blondie caught my eye and started to sing the first line. He winked at me before he turned his head to look at another audience member. I didn’t know if that was considered flirting or not, but I hoped it wasn’t. I hoped it was just to remind me that this was the song I’d said I liked.
At the chorus I noticed Ellis had a microphone, too, and he was singing a beautiful, haunting harmony. The crowd was silent, but someone got the idea to sway their cell phone, and pretty soon the whole audience was swinging with the beat.
This was the longest by far, almost stretching to five minutes, but it never got boring. Blondie sang it perfectly, like a tortured madman in love. But it was really Ellis who caught my attention by singing that melancholy harmony part. It was so intricately woven with the happy melody that it weighed it down and made it sound sad, like it was supposed to. That was what made the song so intriguing, the happy mixed with the sad, opposites melding into one.
In a flash it was over, and the lights turned up. I was shocked at how fast it had gone by. People started flooding out, and the band sucked down their water. I hurriedly brought them four more bottles. Each boy tossed in a smile to me before downing the liquid.
They were all very sweaty, but Ellis was the exception. His shirt was soaked, along with his hair, but he never even rolled up his sleeves. I thought it was a little peculiar, but the thought was squeezed out of my mind when a line of customers were waiting for me when I returned to the counter.
Ten minutes later, everyone was out and the band was tearing down. Michael walked in, no longer a bundle of nerves, and started to help.
“Hey, Hazel,” he flicked his head towards the rest of the stuff waiting to be put away. “Can you help?”
I nodded and walked over. I looked over what was left, trying to decide what I would be most likely to do the least damage to.
“You wanna put away the mics?” I turned around. The tough drummer was standing there, holding a foam box with six holes punched through it. Two of the holes were filled up with microphones, but only their criss-crossed heads showed.
“You just take them from their stands and put them in here, just like the other two.”
“Okay.” I sounded a little unsure of myself. “I think I can do that without hurting anything.”
He chuckled. “Sure you can.” He handed me the foam box and watched me do the first one.
“There, just like that. You’ll be fine.” He flashed me another smile and walked to disassemble the drum set.
I cautiously stepped around the equipment still standing, grabbing microphones and gently slipping them into a hole. I did it slowly, afraid I’d mess something up one way or another. By the time I was finished, everything was put away. I handed the box back over to the drummer.
“Well, thanks for everything,” he said to me. He waved awkwardly and started out the door.
When I got out to my little silver car, it was raining. It was a typical humid Florida night, so the moisture cooled my skin as it fell on me. For once, I didn’t regret not having an umbrella with me. I looked up at the sky. Thick clouds looking like they were dipped in purple and navy blue paint were suspended high above my head. Just then a large raindrop hit my eye. I immediately lowered my head, my hand on my eyelid. I shook my head and unlocked my car.
When I walked in the door, my older brother of one year, was there drinking a glass of milk. I tossed my keys on the table and headed to get a granola bar.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Hey. How was work?”
“Fine. There was a guy from school in the band.”
“Oh. Who was that?”
“Um, he said his name was Ellis. He got in that car wreck last year, remember?”
“Ellis Lennon. Yeah, I know him. Nice guy.” He gulped down the rest of his milk. “Well, I’m gonna hit the sack.”
“Already? It’s like, almost the last week of summer. You’re supposed to enjoy staying up late.”
“I’m trying to get in the habit again. One last year.” He grinned.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
I followed him up the stairs, but as he turned in his room I went to mine. It was only ten o’ clock, and I wasn’t tired yet. I sighed. I’d miss summer, with its hot days filled with free time and leisure. I had no reason to stay up late tonight. I gave up quickly and went to sleep.