The Summer Of Our Lives, chapter 15
A shaft of golden five-thirty sunshine hit Kevin's light brown hair, turning it gold. I leaned my head on his shoulder. Eight of us (Pete stuck around) were sitting in my living room, hanging out and eating the chips and pretzels my mom had gotten. She was in the kitchen. Probably trying to pretend that Green Day wasn't in her house and failing miserably, thanks to all the noise we were making. "International Superhits" was still blasting away on the stereo, and everybody was having a great time as they sang along with the music and ate like crazy.
Liv's game of Truth or Dare must have evolved into a game of Would You Rather, because she was playing that with Rob and Mike. Peter was in the corner, listening wide-eyed as he picked up drumming tips from Tre Cool himself, and I leaned forward, listening intently as Billie told me about performing in front of thousands of people.
"Having a great show is like... nothing else matters. You could have had a terrible day, but when you have a great show you're just having so much fun that you don't give a damn."
I believed him. When I had been singing "Jesus of Suburbia," the tension and fear that had first gripped me when my mother walked in the room melted away completely. Nine minutes concentrated the best time I ever had (with maybe the exception of my first kiss with Kevin. And no, nothing happened, you sick minded people). The point is, I completely understood where Billie was coming from on that one.
"So..." He turned to Kevin. Then he shrugged. "Tell me about yourself," he said lamely.
"I play football," Kevin said. "I'm going out with Cassie." So true.
"Oh yeah? I played football in high school."
"Cool," Kevin said. I remembered back in my invisible days, going to the football field during the week with my brother (who had practice the same time as the team at my school), scouting for Kevin. "I'm the quarterback," he said, with some pride in his voice. "Number eight." This I remembered clearly. Nothing like trying to find someone wearing a football helmet and a heap of pads, not knowing which number was theirs.
"No way," Billie said. "That was my number!" Kevin high-fived him.
"I'm gonna go hang out with them," I said, getting off the couch and sitting down on the floor with Liv, Rob and Mike.
"What would you rather?" Liv asked me. "Never meet Kevin or never meet Green Day?"
I thought. This was a hard one. I loved Kevin, but in the ultimate coolness department nothing compared to meeting Green Day. "If I never met Green Day, would we still have gone to their concert?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Fine. Never met Green Day. The concert was amazing; I could do with just that."
"So you loved our show?" Mike asked.
"Hell yeah!" I shouted, so loud Peter and Tre looked up. I ignored them both. "I cried during 'Time of Your Life.'"
Liv blushed a little. "Me too," she said.
I got an idea. I ran to the stereo and pressed the "back" button until the number 15 flashed on the screen. The opening guitar part of the song started playing, and I turned the volume up.
I started singing, despite Billie's protests ("You only get one song!"), but soon he gave up and joined in. Liv followed, and soon the whole room was practically shaking as eight voices sang, "It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right, I hope you had the time of your life."
The song ended, and everybody kind of fell onto the couch, not really saying anything. Pretty soon those of us who were barely over five feet were getting crushed under the weight of the larger people.
"Air! I need air!" Peter gasped. He struggled to the top of the pile, putting his feet in several people's faces, including mine. When everybody had dragged themselves to a relatively comfortable position, I jumped up, changed the song to "Minority," and then ran upstairs, ignoring the cries of, "Where the hell is she going?" Seconds later, I returned with a tiny silver camera in my hand. I turned on the ten-second timer, set it on the coffee table, and pressed the shutter.
"Everybody say 'Green Day!'" I shouted, diving into the massive pile of people. "Green Day!" we all hollered just as the blinding flash went off. Tre gave my brother bunny ears and Kevin did the same to me.
I couldn't believe that this had all happened. We had actually convinced OUR parents to let us go to a Green Day concert with boys, sat in the front-row mosh pit for free, and met the band afterwards. Not only that, they came back, indicating they actually thought we were worth hanging out with. I sighed as Tre continued talking to Peter about drumming (and God knows what else), and the others went back to their game. We had met Green Day. WE had met GREEN DAY. I couldn't believe there was actually a time when I thought Green Day was weird. We really did have the time of our lives. More than that. We'd had the summer of our lives.
Back to School
The picture had been downloaded onto my computer, printed out, and pasted to the bottom of my report as photographic evidence that what I had said in it was true. As I finished my presentation, everybody in the class was captivated, just like when I sang "Jesus of Suburbia" with Green Day. I shook out the papers one last time and read, with a certain superiority in my voice, "And that is what I did on my summer vacation."
THE END
Liv's game of Truth or Dare must have evolved into a game of Would You Rather, because she was playing that with Rob and Mike. Peter was in the corner, listening wide-eyed as he picked up drumming tips from Tre Cool himself, and I leaned forward, listening intently as Billie told me about performing in front of thousands of people.
"Having a great show is like... nothing else matters. You could have had a terrible day, but when you have a great show you're just having so much fun that you don't give a damn."
I believed him. When I had been singing "Jesus of Suburbia," the tension and fear that had first gripped me when my mother walked in the room melted away completely. Nine minutes concentrated the best time I ever had (with maybe the exception of my first kiss with Kevin. And no, nothing happened, you sick minded people). The point is, I completely understood where Billie was coming from on that one.
"So..." He turned to Kevin. Then he shrugged. "Tell me about yourself," he said lamely.
"I play football," Kevin said. "I'm going out with Cassie." So true.
"Oh yeah? I played football in high school."
"Cool," Kevin said. I remembered back in my invisible days, going to the football field during the week with my brother (who had practice the same time as the team at my school), scouting for Kevin. "I'm the quarterback," he said, with some pride in his voice. "Number eight." This I remembered clearly. Nothing like trying to find someone wearing a football helmet and a heap of pads, not knowing which number was theirs.
"No way," Billie said. "That was my number!" Kevin high-fived him.
"I'm gonna go hang out with them," I said, getting off the couch and sitting down on the floor with Liv, Rob and Mike.
"What would you rather?" Liv asked me. "Never meet Kevin or never meet Green Day?"
I thought. This was a hard one. I loved Kevin, but in the ultimate coolness department nothing compared to meeting Green Day. "If I never met Green Day, would we still have gone to their concert?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Fine. Never met Green Day. The concert was amazing; I could do with just that."
"So you loved our show?" Mike asked.
"Hell yeah!" I shouted, so loud Peter and Tre looked up. I ignored them both. "I cried during 'Time of Your Life.'"
Liv blushed a little. "Me too," she said.
I got an idea. I ran to the stereo and pressed the "back" button until the number 15 flashed on the screen. The opening guitar part of the song started playing, and I turned the volume up.
I started singing, despite Billie's protests ("You only get one song!"), but soon he gave up and joined in. Liv followed, and soon the whole room was practically shaking as eight voices sang, "It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right, I hope you had the time of your life."
The song ended, and everybody kind of fell onto the couch, not really saying anything. Pretty soon those of us who were barely over five feet were getting crushed under the weight of the larger people.
"Air! I need air!" Peter gasped. He struggled to the top of the pile, putting his feet in several people's faces, including mine. When everybody had dragged themselves to a relatively comfortable position, I jumped up, changed the song to "Minority," and then ran upstairs, ignoring the cries of, "Where the hell is she going?" Seconds later, I returned with a tiny silver camera in my hand. I turned on the ten-second timer, set it on the coffee table, and pressed the shutter.
"Everybody say 'Green Day!'" I shouted, diving into the massive pile of people. "Green Day!" we all hollered just as the blinding flash went off. Tre gave my brother bunny ears and Kevin did the same to me.
I couldn't believe that this had all happened. We had actually convinced OUR parents to let us go to a Green Day concert with boys, sat in the front-row mosh pit for free, and met the band afterwards. Not only that, they came back, indicating they actually thought we were worth hanging out with. I sighed as Tre continued talking to Peter about drumming (and God knows what else), and the others went back to their game. We had met Green Day. WE had met GREEN DAY. I couldn't believe there was actually a time when I thought Green Day was weird. We really did have the time of our lives. More than that. We'd had the summer of our lives.
Back to School
The picture had been downloaded onto my computer, printed out, and pasted to the bottom of my report as photographic evidence that what I had said in it was true. As I finished my presentation, everybody in the class was captivated, just like when I sang "Jesus of Suburbia" with Green Day. I shook out the papers one last time and read, with a certain superiority in my voice, "And that is what I did on my summer vacation."
THE END
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