Decemberunderground, chapter 1

As soon as school was over, I ran to my bedroom, and I locked myself in. I threw my book bag on top of my desk, forgetting about the homework that was still yet to be done. I ran over to my end table, and I immediately turned on my boom box.
The sound of "Girl's Not Grey" by AFI flooded my room, and I finally started to calm down; I collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes.

If it was a couple of years earlier, had I been listening to this song, I'd be singing my heart out to the chorus of this song. But now, I just don't feel like talking anymore, I was never the kind of person who would share one's feelings, because no matter what I would say, I am almost positive that no one would feel the same. Some have called me crazy before, though I am quite used to the labels people have stuck me with.

My mother has been taking me to many physiatrists and doctors, and queer enough, they all ask me the same questions over and over again.
"Why did you stop talking? Did someone ask you to stop?"
I, of course, never answered; I would just shrug my shoulders, while staring at the ground at all times. That the thing I have learned while going to all of these shrinks and doctors, never ever stare at them directly in the eyes; they will burn a hole right into you.

Doctors are almost always looking for a huge physiological story to explain why some people have these issues that they can't control.
Just like this girl in my school, she has been fighting anorexia for three years now to this very day, and, as usual, everyone would ask her personal questions.
"Why did you stop eating? Did someone call you fat, and did you decide to change?" And her reply would always be, "No, I just wanted to be thinner..." They would all look at her like she had gone absolutely mad.

A perfectly healthy girl like herself stopped eating and put her life into grave danger just because she wanted to be thinner.

***

"Okay, Grace, how should we start this session this time?" my physiatrist asked me curiously.
I felt a huge urge to roll my eyes at her; this has to be the cheesiest way to get me to open my mouth and speak. I just started down at the floor and shrugged my shoulders. My physiatrist sighed and started jotting down notes about me on her note pad. She glanced up at me and smiled warmly.

"I see you like A.F.I, yes that's true; they are a very good band. I love listening to their music; I find that their music helps soothe me."
I looked up at her in shock, my physiatrist likes A.F.I? Oh my God. When I didn't say anything back to her, she asked me a question.

"Do you like Adam?"
I shook my head no.
"Hunter?"
I scrunched my nose up and shook my head.
"Jade?"
I smiled a little and made a 'so, so' signal with my hand.
"Davey?"
I couldn't help but grin like a mad fool, I nodded furiously.

My shrink started laughing, and she sat back in her chair and started scribbling notes on her note pad.
"Okay, listen to me closely, Grace," my shrink whispered to me. I furrowed my brow in confusion, but I still nodded my head, curious to what she was going to say.
"I have a ticket, to the A.F.I - Decemberunderground concert; they are coming to Berkeley in two weeks. I have absolutely no problem giving you that ticket, but in return, you have to promise me you will speak to me and tell me why you decided to stop talking for all these years."

My jaw literally dropped to the floor.

All these questions started racing through my head. A.F.I. was coming to Berkeley? In less than two weeks. This can't be happening; it's almost too good to be true. I started to open my mouth to speak, and I almost let out a sound when I saw how excited my physiatrist was; I froze. Why should I tell her my darkest secrets, just so she has more to jot down on her notepad?

I closed my mouth and sighed unhappily. Then I shook my head furiously. I would rather pass on the A.F.I. concert than talk.
My shrink sighed in disappointment, but a few minutes later she shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh well, you can't make someone talk if they don't truly desire it," she replied and pulled out my folder from her top drawer.
She started flipping through the note pad, and occasionally she would check off something in the folder.

"Well, I think this is it for today; I'll see you tomorrow at five o'clock sharp, be sure to tell your mother the exact time."
I rolled my eyes as I walked out the door; another cheesy attempt to make me speak. Can't anyone understand I have nothing to say?
But then my attention drew back to the A.F.I. concert. Was really coming to Berkeley in less than two weeks? Or was just some clever, thought out plan to get me to spill out my life story?

I walked down the hallway and turned a right to find myself standing in the waiting room door way...I walked up to my mother, and she looked at me from up the magazine she was reading; she sighed, then smiled weakly.
"Are you ready to go now?" she asked cheerfully. I just nodded my head in reply, then walked out the door of the doctor's office.

Maybe I would surprise my mother and ask her for some money to purchase an A.F.I. ticket for the concert.
I hadn't spoken since I was ten; now I am at the ripe old age of seventeen, but now I can't even tell if my voice-box works properly any more.

No, I am just going to skip the A.F.I. concert; that's much better than sacrificing seven years of silence and solitude.

***


I ran up to my room and started to look through my wallet and found seventy-five dollars in it. I started to smile madly; the concert tickets would cost somewhere between fifty and sixty dollars; I had just enough money to buy one ticket for myself.
I picked up the phone and started to dial the local concert ticket shop.

"Hello, welcome to the ticket shop. How may I help you?"
I froze, I couldn't speak, and I would have to make a sound to order the tickets.
I sighed then slammed the phone down. I felt like screaming; I could just start ripping all my hair out of their roots, it made me so angry. WHY did I have to stop speaking? WHY did I do it? Can I start speaking again; would it be a crime?

I grabbed my wallet and ran down the stairs and opened the front door.
"Where do you think you are going, my dear?" my mother asked with a shocked look on her face.
I opened my mouth to speak then closed it; I shook my head angrily and ran outside.

I started running all the way down my street until I reached the concert hall. I walked straight up to the box office and looked up at a very scary looking man. He was completely bald with tattoos on his head and a very scary looking grin that was planted on his face.
"How can I help you, my dear?" he asked gently. I stood there for a quick moment, wondering how I could buy a ticket without making a sound. I pointed to my A.F.I. shirt and motioned with my finger for one ticket.

The man smiled and nodded his head; he pulled out a drawer of tickets and pulled out one ticket, and then he reached for another drawer and pulled out one V.I.P. pass. I felt like fainting at the thought of being able to actually meet them in person. But then I mentally killed my self for thinking that; they are only people who sing music, they aren't anything special...they won't help me in my situation in anyway.

"Seventy dollars, please," the man replied. I handed him seventy-dollars and waved him goodbye and ran back to my house.