Beck's Perspective

A Story by Travis

This is the start of a book I've been wanting to write for a while now. I just had no idea how to put it into words. And I really hope you like it. I will be working on other character's perspectives.

Beck's Perspective

"… you'd think this girl you say you’re dating is a spy or something! I never get the chance to meet her B, always some excuse about her dancing or out of town," Damien said, as the guy in the ages old movie got chopped in half by the alien running loose on the ship. He was talking about Angela, and Damien was right, after 2 months he still hasn’t met her, and I was trying to keep it that way.

"Not true, if Ang was a spy then she'd have to keep up public appearances to lower suspicion. Now c'mon, eyes on the TV, this is the cheesiest part," I said, pointing to the alien which was obviously a man in a badly sewn suit "eating" his victim. Damien started to cry from laughing so hard, so at least I drew his suspicion away for now. We finally finished the movie, gasping for air at how bad the effects were.

"Hey, I just noticed, what happened to your Star Wars wristband man? Now I look weird being the only person with one of these," Damien said, showing his wristband with the cast from Star Wars on it. We bought matching ones at the last convention we went to. "You used to wear it all the time and I haven't seen it on you in a week," Damien continued.

"Oh I think I just took it off before a shower one night, I read the hot water may ruin it, and I guess I was too lazy to put it on," I replied.

"Oh, ok, just get that thing back on! I don’t wanna be that weird guy wearing the Star Wars wristband alone," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, you just wanna be the guy wearing matching bracelets with another guy in school, I'm on to you Damien," I said, as we broke into laughing, and then went back to watching the low budget "Sci-fi Horror".

When the movie finally ended, Damien got up and stretched. "Whelp, as great as the movie was, I've got to get going, B. See ya, man." Damien went in for a high five, and gripped my hand as they hit. "I'm gonna meet this girl one way or another," Damien said looking me in the eye and smiling. Being this close, I could smell the faint hint of popcorn butter. I smiled back and nodded, watching as he took some leftover candy from the Halloween bowl and ate it as he left. As soon as the door shut, I pushed myself off the candy littered couch and stretched. I walked towards the stairs, watching Damien drive off as I passed the window, and made my way to my room. I stopped at the door frame, looking around at my room. Paintings and movie posters were all I had on my green and blue walls. The walls were the weirdest thing about this room, two opposite walls were bright green, and the other two were light blue. My parent kept begging me to paint it, they'll even do the work for me; I think my dad even offered to pay me at some point. But I wanted to keep it that way; it looked even weirder when it was light outside. I kept looking around, books scattered on the floor, papers crumpled with memories turned to stories. I walked over to my bed where my feet hung off and fell into my pillow, and screamed.

I pried my head from my pillow and took out my phone, cautiously unlocking it and going to my texts like a person defusing a bomb. I read through last night's messages, blurry vision starting to build up. Throwing blame, accusations and even loosely based arguments, like a snowball fight with rocks, harsh words coming more from her side. She couldn't help it, I can't just abandon her like this. She was in a pit I was going to drag her out of myself, even if I got scratched by the rocks and bit by insects on the way back up, even if she was the one biting me. That was the worst part, passive aggressive remarks, slowly changing my style, even trying to get me to stop hanging with Damien. I compromised with the Star Wars wristband and a couple posters. It's almost like she didn't care if we together.

"Why do you still hang out with that kid Damien? He's just holding you back, you have to drop him hun,"

"I bet you don't even care about me, do you? You're probably off with some other floozy every other weekend, aren't you?"

"You don’t even care what happens to me! I could drive off a bridge and you'd shrug and keep watching outdated movies with that nerd Damien,"

"I don't need you, there's tons of other guys who are better than you just waiting for you to fail with me."

I flung myself up, threw my phone over to the bean bag laying in the opposite corner and got out my drum set. I decided on playing the hardest song I could play. And I did that, over and over and over, until my hands started to bleed, and even past that. I went until I could barely see the song notes about 2 feet in front of me. I focused all my confusion and anger into the one song repeated, like a jar someone screams into. I got up from the stool, which creaked a bit from years of this repetitive anger outlet. I didn’t pick up my phone on my way to make dinner for myself, just a grilled cheese with milk, like every night. I stared at the clock, 9:45, I still had a bit until my mom gets home.

I walked back to my room and sat down at my desk, doodles all over the wooden surface, crumpled and scribbled over paper making mountains. I'd been trying to write a script, a short film for the film festival coming up, but none of these worked. It was supposed to be like those movies that follow different characters, but also going against any cliché presented in those movies. I've tried explaining it to Angela, she just doesn't understand my hatred for cliches.

As if on cue, my ringtone for her beeped, a racing heart vibration. Funny, considering I didn't think it would mean me being scared of her when I first set it. I grab my phone off the bean bag and look at the message. My phone kept buzzing, so that meant it's probably something she's mad about again. Unlocking my phone, I was greeted to an array of emotions. It seemed like she was angry at herself for treating me like this. I consoled her until she calmed down a bit, I took a shower and came back to another novel of texts, apparently I was talking to some girl with a smile and a laugh on my face. And of course she saw Damien leaving my house, didn't even ask how she knew that.

I barely saw my phone again, but it wasn't sweat or tears, that time it was just me shaking. Shoulders, arms, and hands and expending energy. Some invisible force willing me to throw my phone not at the beanbag, but at the wall, out the window, even the TV, just somewhere that wouldn't leave a tiny crack, but shatter the phone and all the messages inside. I dropped it on my bed, and go to grab my drumsticks, flinching as they hit my still raw hands from before. I compromised on going on a run instead of having to get my hands amputated from drumming further.

I threw on worn running shoes and a sweatshirt and dashed through the open door. I grabbed my mp3 player to avoid using my phone. My mom pulled in just as I get on the driveway. "Going on a run, be back later," I said before having to explain myself. She just shrugs, having this happen before, and goes inside.

The neighborhood I live in was practically made for running, lots of benches, water fountains, and hilly areas. I kept my mind blank, focused mainly on running and the music. I had been doing this for a few months now; anger seemed to dissipate when you're gasping to breathe. A few cars passed by, lights in houses slowly turned off, and kids having end of the year parties. But, besides that, it's the moon and me. Wet grass kissed my ankles, bugs wizzed by, only a few hit me. Stuff crush beneath my feet, but I decided not to check and wipe my feet before going in the house.

It's past 11 when my mom gets to sleep when I got home. Glad she's not there to smell the drumming sweat combined with running, I went to take a shower. I cleaned all the byproducts from my anger and still spray on extra deodorant. I cautiously made my way back to my room, careful to not wake my mom. Falling onto my bed, I immediately passed out before the soreness creeps in.

Bright light came through my window and tried to burn through my retinas, and I almost would have let it after last night, but mom would kill me, plus I couldn't watch movies anymore. So I threw myself off my bed, my foot landing on my phone, sadly not hard enough to break it. I picked it up and turned it on, receiving a low battery warning upon doing so. I plugged it in and saw my notifications. If someone could make texts into bricks, you could make another great wall out of the texts Angela sent me.

"Oh, so you're ignoring me?? Then it must be true!"

"I know you're not drumming, even you couldn't listen to yourself play for that long,"

"It's not like you to wait this long, are you okay?"

"…"

"Oh well, you're probably off with that girl you smiled at, you take her to see a crappy movie?"

"Please answer, I'm worried Beck, honestly, I'm sorry for what I said before,"

It went on and on, I shut my phone off and went to make breakfast. I'll make her wait some more before I message again, I still needed to cool off. Taking out the frying pan, eggs, milk, pepper, and salt, I whipped up scrambled eggs to eat while I watched the newest movie trailers that had been released. Damien and I spent hours at least once a week debating whether these movies would be worth our time to actually go and see. We rated everything, from the special effects, to the cheesiness of it, and especially the cliches. Damien and I hated cliches as much as somebody could hate something. I spent the entire last half of the school year working on a script for a short film deliberately against the grain of cliches. We had been hoping to film it over the summer, and enter it into the summer film festival for our town, but I hadn't finished the script yet. Cara and Damien were both on board, but it looked like we were gonna have to wait until next summer. Who knows what it will be like with Angela in another year. my mind flashing to a phone shattered, broken friendships, and ripped scripts.

Finally, the moments passed and I was brought back to reality by the kitchen phone ringing. I got up from my stool and answered it. My mom's voice, oozing with exhaustion, greeted my ears. "Hey hun, I noticed you stayed up late last night from that run, so I let you sleep in. You have any plans today?" She asked, genuinely concerned if I was getting out of the house for the first time in the week of summer.

"Thanks mom, I'm just making some eggs now, and I hadn't really planned on anything, maybe watch some more movies," I said, feeling bad that I was letting her down by staying in.

"B, you really gotta get out at least once this summer, besides the moon tan you’ve been getting, you're missing out. Go on a road trip for all I care, you're going to be 18 in a month." She said, I could practically see her head in her hand.

"Okay, I'll try mom, maybe Ang wants to go out and do something today," I said, trying to make her feel a little better. Her voice perked up a little at the mention of Ang, she didn’t say it but I could tell she was surprised when I landed someone of her league.

"Ooo, sounds good hun, there's some money on my dresser if you need it for snacks or kale or whatever you kids eat these days. I'll be home late again tonight, sorry, but they really need me over here. Annnnd they're calling me back now, gotta go. Love you hun." She said, hanging up right after. I understood how much they needed her over there, and it gave me a lot of time to waste my days watching movies with Damien and Cara, when Cara had time between singing, which wasn’t much. I cleaned off my dishes and took a deep breath, getting ready to go back upstairs.

I took each step slowly, looking at all the pictures on our walls, as if I hadn't grown up with them. Pictures with my dad at Space Mountain before he passed, going to my first Star Wars movie with him, and then in the later years, my mom and Damien. There were also some pictures of Halloween, me as a movie, Damien as the director, and Cara as the movie critic. The pictures were few and farther between when mom went back to work, now having to support both of us by herself.

I got to the top of the steps and end of the pictures. I made my way into my room and grabbed up my phone, knuckles growing somehow whiter on my pale skin from my grip. I turned it on and greeted her to only one message.

We need to talk.

She messaged back immediately, even the Flash probably would have taken more time. And her ton was not happy.

Her: How can you say that after keeping me worried sick!

Me: Really? It seemed like you were content with assuming I was out with some "floozy", what is this, the 1910s?

Her: …

Her: Nevermind that, where were you.

Me: No, It's my turn to talk, you had your chance all of last night.

Her: Sure, what do you need to tell me, I'm listening.

I froze up, not expecting her to give in so easily. I hadn't exactly thought of anything to say, it was all kind of in the moment. I took my time and finally typed out what I didn't realize was in the back of my mind.

Me: I'm tired of not living my own life, only yours. I hang out with Damien, I wear nerdy crap, I am a nerd. And I'm tired that you're always assuming I'm doing something bad when you can't see me. I think we need to take a break.

Her: …

Me: Actually, I know we do. I'll leave you to decide how much I actually mean to you.

Her: Where is this coming from? Are you sure you want to do this?

Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure of it. I'll be back at the end of the summer, we can decide if this is a permanent break then.

Her: Where are you going?

Me: I'm going on a road trip with Damien and Cara.

I shut my phone off and shoved it into my pocket, full of lint and a piece of thin paper. I took it out and saw a phone number, Angela's, from when we first met at the party. I crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash can with the rest of my failed stories.

On my way out of the house I grabbed my keys, a string bag that I filled with food and money from after school jobs, my phone, script, and pencil. I sped to Damien's house and honked my horn 3 times, our code to get in ASAP. On the way out of the door, Damien was pulling on his shoes, almost tripping multiple times. He got in and jacked the AC up.

"Where are we going? And isn’t this the first time you've been out this summer?" He asked, tilting his head a bit with confusion like a dog.

"Road trip, and yes. Grab your camera and all your filming stuff." I answered, slight anger rising in my voice. Damien noticed that and didn't answer back, he just shrugged and dashed inside to grab his equipment. 10 minutes later we were on our way to Cara's house. After that, a call to our parents, and then...

Onto the road.