Chapter 1

Since it's so long, I'll just ask that you read a peice of it, get a feel for my writing, and give me criticisms on that. If you like it, though, I'd be delighted if you'd read it all.

Part one

 

Database of Interviews: Subject-YChrome

Keywords: First interviews

Excerpt from interview after Ychrome’s first tour across America. Interviewer is Sandra Follet of Star. At the time of this interview John is still band leader. The friend mentioned is Meg Stone, the person credited to breaking the band up. Jimmy Rascop was the bass player in the earliest years, before they signed their first contract. David Savidge was the original drummer before Tom. John, as leader, still talks and represents the band:

 

 Follet: So, let’s hear the story behind the band. How did Ychrome come to be?

 

John: Well, it was because of a mutual friend Paul and I had, really. I’d known this girl      from school for about a year, he’d known her for two years and she introduced us after I performed in a guitar competition in Epstein Park.

 

Paul: I was a year younger and I though he was really cool. (laughs)

 

John: We hit it off and we hung out all the time, just us three. Paul and I would mess around on my guitar and make up these stupid little songs. Then I joined a band, The Preying Men, and Paul got a guitar of his own and I invited him in. He was lead guitar at first, but switched to bass after Jimmy left.

 

Paul: Benny and I were friends from school and when one of the guys left the band, I thought he would be a good replacement. I got him to play for John.

 

John: I thought he was damn good. I was really impressed, so he joined up as replacement lead guitar. We were playing at a club in our town, then we went to LA to start playing big time. The drummer we had wasn’t too happy with Benny or Paul, so he stopped playing with us. We knew Tom and he said he’d play for us. By the time we started touring for Eve, he was pretty much our drummer. David split during the tour to be with this chick he met back in LA and Tom took over full time.

 

Tom: I’d heard about them quite a bit and I was really excited they wanted me to play for them. They were really cool guys. I barely even auditioned for them.

 

John: After the tour, we lost our manager, got Frizz, auditioned for Lee, and got a contract.

 

Follet: Just like that?

 

John: Well, it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

 

Follet: And you’re all friends? No fighting?

 

John: We fight sometimes, but we’re good enough of friends that it doesn’t matter. We’re close. Really close.

 

Benny: (joking) Best friends!

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One 

 

            “Awesome show,” I cried, hurrying behind the stage at Epstein Park where John waited with his guitar, breathlessly excited after the outdoor guitar competition he’d just competed in. A slightly shy Paul followed in my wake. John grinned.

            “Thanks Meg.” He glanced at Paul. “Who’re you?”

            “This is Paul,” I said. “He’s a friend of mine. Sorry for bringing a crasher, but he kind of can’t go home right now.”

            John shrugged. “No problem. Why can’t you go home?”

            “Because he geniusly decided to get wasted last night when he knew full well his parents were going to check,” I said. “They can’t stand alcohol. He’s a little hung over right now.”

            “Just waiting for it to get out of my system,” Paul said, leaning against the park fence and closing his eyes against the glare of the sun. “I should be good to go soon. What was this show all about?”

            “It was a competition for solo guitarists. Like a battle of the bands sort of thing, but without the band. You can win some money. Thought I’d try it out, see if I could score some free cash,” John said, a hint of pride in his voice.

            “And you invited a fourteen year old?” Paul asked, gazing sideways at me with those big, sleepy, innocent eyes. I made a face. He was always pointing out that he was older than me.

            “Well, she’s okay for freshman,” John said, smiling condescendingly. I didn’t have very nice friends.

            “What about me?” Jessica, my closest girl friend, asked, batting her eyelashes at him. She had a huge crush on John and had only come to the competition to stare at his a*s. As did every other girl from our school in the park at the time.

            “Nope, you’re just here for my entertainment,” John said, barely even acknowledging her. She didn’t seem to mind.

            Sometimes it bothered me that people, girls especially, let John treat them like crap all the time, just laughing and feeling flattered that he’d spoken to them at all. I couldn’t really say anything, though, because I acted the same way around Paul. Did I mention I have a huge, two year crush on him?

            “Nice guitar,” Paul said, admiring the shiny Epiphone electric guitar hanging from the strap around John’s shoulder.

            “Thanks. My mom sent it for my birthday. Do you play?”

            This question, I knew, would determine Paul’s worth in John’s eyes. A yes meant there was hope for him. A no meant he had no right talking to him.

            “A little. My dad’s friend taught me the basics when I was twelve. I haven’t really played since because my dad hates the noise.”

            I watched as a placated John stepped closer to Paul.

            “Want to try?”

            “Sure.”

            For the next hour, they played around with it, making up tunes and senseless lyrics, John guiding Paul whenever he got lost. I was only slightly jealous " Paul was my friend first " because I could tell they were taken with each other. John was impressed by Paul, not an easy feat, and I knew this would up my cool factor. Being only a freshman, I hadn’t known John long and was eager to prove my worth in his mind. If Paul and John got along well, I would be associated as the cause for the meeting in John’s mind, and therefore be more likely to climb in the status quo. I swear it was like working with dogs, sometimes.

            As I sat backstage " which just was a piece of lawn behind the sound proof backing to the cheap, raised platform passing for a stage " and enjoyed my work, I couldn’t help noticing how similar they were. They were both charming, with an easy charisma and sharp wit that verged on intelligent. Even their sex jokes were sophisticated. They were both popular, too, the kings of each of their schools, and girls were drawn helplessly to them " point in case: Jessica and me " and both commanded the center of attention. With most people, this would have made them lock horns, but John and Paul played off each other and shared the limelight evenly. I was glad. This seemed like a good thing for my social status.

            “You should get a guitar,” John advised (a huge compliment in his book).

            “I don’t know, I’m not really good enough to get anywhere,” Paul said, playing a little tune John had taught him. John acted as if he had just been personally insulted.

            “That’s not the point,” he said disgustedly. “Just because it doesn’t get you anywhere doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

            I could tell Paul was amused, if a little abashed, and he immediately tried to make up for his slip.

            “I guess. It’s worth it for you. You’re awesome. You should start a band.”

            “You think?” John seemed appeased and, relaxing, leaned over to adjust Paul’s grip on the fingerboard. Instructing him to strum, then rearranging his fingers again, Paul got the sound right. They grinned at each other and I was pleased they liked each other. John often felt threatened by people with his talents and charm, but Paul fit into the spaces left by John’s ego, and his flair for leadership even commanded John scoot over a little, which he did willingly. He seemed endeared to Paul already.

            To my satisfaction, the other people from Hayward backstage with us, particularly the younger kids, watched their friendship burgeoning, envy and longing shining equally in their eyes. I lifted my chin proudly, wanting everyone to know that it was my friend John wanted to talk to, that I had introduced them. It meant only good things for me.

            After the announcement of the winner " John didn’t win, or even reach third place, though he didn’t seem to care at all " John’s aunt Maya appeared and told John she had errands to do if he wanted to go with his friends. Maya had raised John since he was six and he’d been taken from his father by the state. Usually, she was immensely disapproving of John’s determination to be a musician, but his birthday had been the day before and, yet again, he had heard nothing from his father, who had disappeared for a job after his son was taken away and never returned. Having only become truly acquainted with his mother, Jalen, the year before, John’s birthdays were always a difficult time for Maya and she tended to be more lenient towards him. At that point, most people left. Only the special inner circle John invited could stay for the party that would follow.

            “We should go,” I said reluctantly to Paul, standing from my spot on the lawn.

            “You don’t want to come with us?” John asked, looking mainly at Paul, but including me in the comment, too.

            “Can we?” Paul asked.

            “Of course. We’re going to that club down on Quarter Street, you know, the Vault? You two can come.” Once again aimed mostly to Paul, but I latched onto that “you two” and refused to let go.

            “Okay,” Paul said, smiling his beautiful smile. John smiled back.

            And so began one of the most successful and disastrous friendships I’d ever been a part of. I’d known Paul since I was twelve and he was fourteen. We’d been inseparable for two years and I’d guarded him jealously from any of my other friendships, and he kept me, I hoped just as jealously as I did, from any of his friends. Accepting John into our exclusive group, while exciting for my social status at school, took some getting used to, especially since taking him in included electing him leader of our group. Paul obviously adapted to him much easier than I did, probably because he hero-worshipped the older, independent, mysterious seventeen year old. John commanded attention, yet knew how to hold back and be tame when he wanted to. Being younger, Paul idolized John and tried to copy him, following him around and agreeing with everything he said like some lovesick puppy. I rarely saw them apart.

            “He’s really cool, isn’t he?” Paul said in one of our limited afternoons without the god in Paul’s sky. “He said he’d help me buy a guitar.”

            “I thought you didn’t want one,” I protested, sitting up from where I was lying on my bedroom floor. “Besides, aren’t you rich enough to get one on your own?”

            “Yeah, like my parents’ll help me buy the instrument of the devil,” he said, smiling up at me. “And I changed my mind. He taught me a ton of songs and I think I’m pretty good.” No need to guess who “He” was.

            “So, what, you’re going to be a singer now?” I asked sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

            “Maybe,” he said, feigning a wounded look. “Why, don’t you think I’m good enough?”

            “I think John thinks you’re good enough and that’s all that matters to you.” He sat up, gazing at me, surprised.

            “Wait, are you jealous?” I didn’t respond. “Wow. The ‘I’m too cool for life’ Meg Stone is jealous of a guy? Never thought I’d see it. Should I be flattered or…”

            “I’m not jealous, I’m just…” I looked away, ashamed. “You were my friend first.” God that sounded dumb.

            He laughed, his slim body dropping back to the floor. “Oh Meg. You know I love you. Aren’t I allowed to have other friends?  Isn’t he your friend too?”

            “Yes,” I muttered.

            “Don’t worry. You’re my best friend. You’re my one and only, my Meg. Believe me, John could never be you.”

            I snorted, trying not to picture it. Looking at him, I smiled reluctantly, secretly pleased.

            “John’s joining a band, you know. Some guys from your school invited him in.”

            “He didn’t invite you to join?” I asked.

            “No,” he said, smiling. “I don’t have a guitar, remember?”

            “And if you did?”

            “I’d be gone in a flash. I’d be halfway to LA by now.”

            “Shut up.”

He grinned, but from that point on all he cared about was getting his very own guitar. Every day after school Paul, John, and I rode the bus " none of us could drive " downtown to the bus transit and rode the second bus " all the while lugging John’s Epiphone electric guitar " to John’s favorite music store and admired the expensive guitars. I, who cared nothing for instruments due to my lack of musical inclinations, found myself dragged around the store to look at different brands and was forced to hear their endless discussions of Fender versus Gibson and twelve string versus six string sounds and other such lame arguments. Paul always ended up agreeing with John anyway so who cared? Then they’d tug me over to one of the cheapest off-brands, smile prettily at the cashiers, and ask charmingly if they could play one. Usually they managed to get their hands on one, no matter what the answer was. I had to admit I was a little awed when John started playing. He could perform any song you wanted and had a few of his own, written during the school hours he deemed weren’t worth sticking around for. They weren’t half bad, even if they were a little hackneyed and unoriginal. Something about John made it hard to wish he wasn’t there. He could intimidate and scare you half to death, then turn right around and charm his way back into your heart, making you laugh the whole time. I loved and hated him all at once and was extremely glad I’d fallen for Paul and not him. He would be a dangerous crush to have.

            Nevertheless, the three of us became almost inseparable. We did everything together. The only moments I had alone with Paul were when John ran off to practice with his band, which happened more and more often as time went by. He and his band mates began skipping school and going to John’s mom’s house, where they were always welcomed with a snack, a joint, and a place to play as loudly as they wanted. His mom was so un-mom like; he called her by her first name, Jalen. Aunt Maya disapproved of her sister’s methods, but she was determined to give John a relationship with his mother, and so sometimes turned a blind eye to her indulgences with him. Many times after school, Paul and I would go there to listen to the band and hear Jalen’s hilarious stories about how she used to sneak out of the house and go to clubs looking for men. She knew how to play guitar too and helped Paul a lot. I think she became a second mother to him. Sometimes, when Paul could get up the nerve, he’d cut school and go to her house for private lessons. He tried to get me to go too, but Mom kept a sharp eye on my attendance, so I was stuck going to class.

As John disappeared more and more often, I had to find other people to hang out with and spent endless breaks, lunches, and class time with Jessica and her friend, Nelson. They weren’t bad people, and I got my girl time with Jessica " and Nelson, since he was very gay " but unlike Paul and John, they were much more perceptive and picked up on my sarcastic nuances and secret emotions. I didn’t always like being around them. Regardless of my feelings, however, they fastened onto me, probably because I was in John’s inner circle.

            “So you’ve got a crush on Paul, right?” Jessica asked, pretending to be writing essay questions for Night.

            “We’re friends,” I said, purposefully vague.

            “Duh,” Nelson said, drawing a heart around the initials “JP,” the guy he was crushing on, and gazing longingly at the back of Jake Parker’s head.

            “But you’ve got a thing for him too, right?” Jessica persisted.

            “No,” I lied, flipping through the book for topics.

            “I think you do,” she said. “I would. He’s super hot.”

            “Well I don’t,” I said.

            “Oh please, you can’t lie to me,” she said. “I see the way you look at him.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You, like, can’t stop smiling whenever he’s around, you stop the world turning when he calls or texts, you practically run to the bus stop after school, you get all huffy when he talks to another girl, you " “

            “Okay, okay, point taken, god. I’ve got a thing for him. Am I that obvious?” I flipped blindly through the pages, trying not to blush.

            “Only to us,” Nelson said, eyes still on Jake. “Because we’re around you all the time.”

            “Yeah, well, glad to know I’m that pathetic, thanks,” I said.

            “No you’re not,” Jessica protested. “You’re a normal, healthy teenaged girl with a crush. Happens all the time. I’ll have you know tons of girls are jealous of you. They’d kill to be the kind of friend you are to John and Paul.” Which made me feel just fantastic.

            “I’ll tell you what that means,” Nelson said, tearing his gaze away from Jake’s left ear. “There are a lot of desperate, sad little girls in this world.”

            “Oh gee thanks,” I said sarcastically.

            “You know what I mean,” he said unapologetically. “Besides, not just girls are after them. John’s sexy.”

            Jessica scoffed. “If they’re gay, I’m killing myself.”

            “What do you think Meg?” Nelson asked, smiling mischievously. “Are they of the fairy persuasion? Do they celebrate gay day? It’d be my dream come true.”

            I bit my lip, feigning being engrossed in writing down a question. I wished with all my heart that I could say with a definite, “Hell no” that Paul, at least, was not gay. Sadly, that was not the case.

 

 

 

…       …                                            …

 

 

“Look!” Paul yelled excitedly from downstairs (I could almost see Mom’s horrified face). He hadn’t met me after school, instead disappearing with John someplace secret with only an “Ill c u in an hour” text to placate me. I intended to be very mad with them for several days.

Now, slamming the front door and shouting up the stairs to me, I could hear the ecstatic delight in Paul’s voice. Two pairs of feet pounded up the steps to my bedroom.

“Behave!” Mom cried after them. “And leave the door open, Meg!”

“I know Mom!” I called back down.

Mom had never approved of my friendship with Paul, and even less of my friendship with John, whom she was certain would become a homeless, drug addicted, criminal someday. She never seemed to recall the fact that she had introduced Paul and me, back when I was twelve. Supposedly, she’d thought he was a good, wholesome rich boy on the track to Harvard or Yale " she’d never met him prior to our “play date.” He was her boss’s son and she wanted us to get close so she could move up in the business world; typical selfish Mom. To her, it seemed logical that he would emanate his father and be well-behaved and boring, making him the perfect companion for her not-so-well-behaved daughter. Unfortunately, this had happened to me a lot, mostly with kids who weren’t even my age and had all either bored me to tears or scared me off of drugs for life " or so I’d believed at the time. Only Paul, again not my age, had managed to stick, and he hadn’t exactly lived up to Mom’s expectations. Then John had come around. That was Paul’s, and indirectly Mom’s, fault too.

Paul and John flew up the stairs and into my room, leaving the door half open. Both were flushed with wide eager smiles on their faces. Paul brandished a beautiful, new, shining electric guitar.

“Isn’t it perfect?” he asked gleefully.

“Wow,” I said, staring in a reverence I hadn’t expected to feel. “Where’d that come from?”

“We saved up our money and bought it,” John said proudly.

“Oh yeah right, for how long? Ten years? Because if I recall, neither of you have jobs.”

John shrugged. “Well, okay, Jalen lent me fifty bucks and maybe Paul contacted an uncle or two, but who cares? It was so worth it.”

“Yeah, and we paid for half of it, at least,” Paul said, shrugging.

Shaking my head, I held out a hand. “Let me see it.” He handed it over, but I could see his reluctance, and after only a couple of seconds, he seemed ready to yank it back into his slender arms.

Ignoring him, I tried strumming, producing only a quiet humming, not very impressive, but it didn’t matter.

“The amp’s in Jalen’s car " Maya refused to take me there " so we can’t really play you anything,” John informed me. “We figured your mom would appreciate it.”

“More like we were afraid your Mom would kill us,” Paul said. “She’s scary.” He was still keeping a watchful eye on his precious instrument.

“Your dad is scarier,” I said absentmindedly, examining the fingerboard. He held out his hand impatiently and, rolling my eyes, I gave it back. He cradled it in his slim arms, running his fingertips over the strings and pulling the strap around his lean shoulders.

“You’ll have to come over to my house tomorrow and we’ll play for you,” John said. He smiled. “And just by chance, tomorrow we’ve got a gig at the Vault, which Paul already promised to help us set up for, so you’ll just have to wait till it’s over to hear him.” He shrugged and smiled sweetly.

“And by then it’ll be, like, what? Midnight? One o’clock?”

“Oh more like two,” John said.

‘Yeah, so you should just sleep over, which, it just so happens, is what I’m doing.” Paul grinned innocently.

“Oh yeah, just by chance,” I said sardonically, but I was pleased with the plan.

“Not our fault we had some happy consequences,” John said. I laughed.

“Alright, let me ask Mom,” I said getting up and heading for the door. They jumped up and followed at my heels.

“Be sure to stress that we’ll have adult supervision,” John said.

“And don’t tell her about the gig,” Paul reminded me.

“Duh, guys, I know,” I said, turning into the kitchen. Something about Mom always made them nervous, especially Paul, who hated not being liked, and they always tried to be polite and on their best behavior. It was hard for them, particularly John, who had to keep his biting wit in check. I don’t know how Mom did it. Not even the mafia could’ve done that to John.

As I stepped forward, the guys hung back at the doorway, careful to keep their shoes off her clean floor and their eyes away from her gaze. She really knew how to scare them.

“Mom, can I spend the night at John’s house tomorrow?” I asked. Mom looked over my shoulder and gave the guys a warning glare.

“Will Jonathan’s aunt be there?”

“Yes ma’am, she will,” John spoke up politely. I nodded, biting back a derisive laugh at his use of ma’am.

“Is there alcohol in the house?” Though Mom held her suspicious gaze on me, the question was directed at John.

“Only the best,” he replied cheekily. I cringed.

“I beg your pardon?” Mom asked sharply.

“It was a-a joke. I-I was just kid " “He paused. “No ma’am, there isn’t.”

“Does your aunt still smoke?”

“Never around me, ma’am.”

“And you,” she barked, turning to Paul, who started and gazed up at her uneasily.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Will you be staying over too?”

“Uh, y-yeah. If that’s okay with you, of course.” I could have slapped him.

“I’m not sure it is. I don’t think I’m all that comfortable allowing my young, impressionable daughter to sleep in the same room as two obviously unruly teenaged boys.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Why did she have to be so conservative? I was sure she did it just to be difficult. She knew very well that sex with John would be sex with a walking STD and no way was I into that, and sex with Paul just wouldn’t happen…or, at any rate, she thought she knew.

“If it’d make you feel better, she can sleep on the couch, where Maya " uh, my aunt can keep an eye on her. Paul and I will sleep in my room, far away from Meg.” John looked at her innocently. I smiled to myself. He was always a very good liar.

Mom gazed at the three of us skeptically. I met her eyes, praying she would let me go.

“Alright, you may go " “

“Yes!”

“" as long as you sleep in the living room and the boys sleep in Jonathan’s bedroom. And I’ll want to get in contact with your aunt. What’s the best way to reach her? Is she home now?”

I could see John’s longing to make a biting remark. Unlike my mom, who worked for a law office three days a week and stayed at home for the most part while my dad worked, John and his aunt were on the verge of needing financial assistance from the government.  The only reason he could afford to go to our private school was because Jalen guilt tripped his dad to help her get him a scholarship to our private school so he could get a good education. Maya worked two jobs to support John’s endless artistic and material needs, and I knew John felt pressured to get out and start earning money, even though Maya made it clear she expected him to finish school and attend college. It always made me feel guilty. Paul and I weren’t rich " well, okay, Paul sort of was " but compared to John, we had money coming out of our asses. And I could hardly say we appreciated what we had.

“She, uh, won’t be home till ten,” John said, straining to keep the polite tone in his voice.

“Ten?” Mom said, raising her eyebrows. “Well, does she have an email address?”

“Oh yeah, of course. She checks it every day.”

Mom must have heard the eagerness in his response because she suddenly examined him suspiciously. He just smiled pleasantly.

“She never checks it,” he explained later as we walked to the bus stop. “She’s barely even aware she has one. I set it up forever ago so I could answer the emails from the school. I’ll do the same with your mom and no one will be any the wiser. I’m great at writing that s**t.” He glanced at Paul, reddening slightly. “Or, dictating, at least.” He tried to smile, but I got the sense that he was embarrassed.

I stared at him. I’d never seen him embarrassed before. And what had that comment meant? I turned quizzically to Paul, but he gave a slight shake of the head. I was confused, but didn’t push it. I could always call and drill him later.

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow,” John said to me, climbing the stairs of the bus.

“You’re not going to school, are you?” I guessed.

“And miss the chance to spend some time with my dreams? Never.”

“I hate you!” I called after him as he disappeared down the aisle. I shook my head at Paul. Grinning, he leaned over and kissed me swiftly on the cheek.

“But you love me, right?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, grinning idiotically, heart hammering in my chest. He laughed, then bounded up the steps, doors shutting behind him.

For the rest of the night, my skin tingled and burned where his lips had touched.

 

 

…                        …                 …

 

 

“He’s dyslexic,” Paul said.

“He is?”

“And he has minor ADD.”

“He does? How come I never knew this?” I pushed my geometry book aside. This was too important to even pretend to work on homework.

“Well he doesn’t exactly go around shouting it to the world,” he pointed out. “It gets him in trouble all the time, though.”

“I knew he was a troublemaker. He’s always being sent to the office. That is, whenever he deigns to show up. But I never knew he had a legitimate reason to be that way.” I thought about it for a moment. “What does that mean, him having all that s**t?’

“He can’t sit still. Or concentrate. For some reason, reading is hard when it’s not his writing. Like, his brain just can’t see it right. So he doesn’t even try. He’ll just head off to the bathroom and never come back. He says the teachers just expect it from him now.”

“Yeah, I heard that. They’ll, like, make bets on how long he’ll sit it out each day.” I paused, smiling. “Almost all of them adore him, though.”

“Yeah, I know. And he sort of keen on them, excluding Mr. Delaney.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “He just hates the actual class. I think it frustrates him, because he can’t fight it.”

“Fight it?” I asked.

“You know, people he can shoot down with his barbed wit, but how are you going to do that to books? So, instead of dealing with it, he just dips out and does something he’s good at.”

“He told you all this?”

“No. In fact, he doesn’t like to talk about it. But it’s not hard to figure it out.”

“That’s sad,” I said, feeling a sudden rush of sympathy for John.

“Yeah, but he’s f*****g amazing on guitar,” Paul said, slipping back into his idol worship voice. At least I hoped that was all it was.

“Have you heard his band yet?” I asked, pulling my textbook back into my lap.

“No. I’m so excited. You have fake id, right?”

“Where the hell would I get fake id?”

“Um, a friend?”

“What, like you? Am I going to be able to get in?”

“Sure. We’ll slip you in as a groupie. You can help us set up.”

“Joy of joys. As long as I get to hear you play.” Too much?

“Want to hear now?” he asked, childishly eager.

“Can I?”

“Of course. Hang on.” I heard him moving around and playing a few chords. His phone was apparently on speaker.

“Can you hear?” he asked.

“Yeah, play something already,” I said, smiling.

He started with a song I didn’t recognize.

“John taught me this,” he said over the guitar. Then he started singing about some girl in a club he couldn’t take his eyes off of. I listened, caught up in the sound of his voice more than in the words or tune. I couldn’t help grinning, heart hammering, shamelessly in love. Well, okay, there may have been a tiny bit of shame.

The song lasted a few minutes and when it ended, I realized I was holding my breath. Exhaling, I wished I could see his expression.

“Wow,” I said, forcing calmness into my voice. “You’re really good.” I had no idea if that was true, having no clue what qualified someone as playing guitar well, but it was all I could think of to say that didn’t come off as ridiculous, corny, or downright creepy.         

“Thanks. Maybe I should join a band.”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding crushed, but I sensed he was just teasing.

“Because you have to be good-looking to be in a band,” I said sweetly.

“Oooh, didn’t know you had a thing for John.”

“Oh hardly. I’d have sex with a rock before I’d ever consider John a candidate for my heart.”

“A rock?” he asked, laughing. “How do you propose having sex with a rock?”

“I have a vagina, remember? Figure it out.”

He snorted. “With the right shape, maybe.”

“Yeah, well, you’d need a completely different shape,” I said.

He was quiet a moment, then said, “I don’t want to have sex with a rock.”

I giggled. “What do you want to have sex with?”

“A person,” he said. I heard the grin in his voice.

“What person?” I asked, quietly curious.

“Don’t you know?” he asked in a low voice.

My heart sped up, and I started to wonder. “No.”

“Really? You really can’t guess?”

“Who?” I fought to keep my voice steady.

“I’ll tell you,” he said in a secretive murmur, “if you promise not to tell.”

He sounded so sexy and I was starting to get turned on. Damn it.

“I won’t tell,” I said, smiling and hoping I wasn’t making an idiot out of myself.

“Promise?” I heard the flirty coquettishness in his tone.

“I promise.” I felt breathless with excitement. Was he about to admit he liked me?

“John!” he shouted, deafening me in one ear. I jumped, letting out a cry of shock. He burst out in laughter and, after a stunned moment, I did too.

“John? You want to do John?” I asked, laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

“Who’d you think?” he asked, sounding immensely pleased with himself.

I forced my mind away from the dirty images I’d been seeing in my mind and, burning with embarrassment, said, “I don’t know. I " I thought I was about to hear some big secret of yours.” I paused, working up my courage. “So…do you like someone?

“Haven’t you been listening?” Paul asked seriously. “John and I have been banging for years.”

“Paul, be real for a second,” I complained. “Do you like anyone?”

He sighed. “I hate these questions.”

“Well do you?”

“Uh, let’s think. Does my art teacher count?”

“Paul!”

“Okay, okay.” He sighed again. “No, not really. I mean, high school girls aren’t really up to my standards. If Hayley Williams went to my school, then that’d be different.”

“I’m never going to get a straight answer out of you, am I?”

“No.” But beneath his jokes, I sensed he was distinctly uncomfortable. Why would he be so uneasy about something he normally would have been so charming about?

---

 

 

Author's Note

It's pretty long. Sorry about that. But this is the first chapter in it's entirety. Also, I'm not sure why, but all of my dashes have been changed to quotation marks. Kind of weird and completely unintentional.

Reviews

[Weaver]

The dashes-to-quote thing happens to a lot of my stuff, too. I think is has something to do with copying from Word. You just need to edit here on WC and change them back, and then the dashes will be right.
"after Ychrome’s first tour" - Names of bands are not italicized, just the titles of their albums.
comma after "time of this interview"
comma after "known her for two years"
comma after "a year younger"
comma after "We hit it off"
comma after "friends from school"
comma after "We knew Tom"
comma after "met back in L.A."
comma after "heard about them quite a bit"
"good enough of friends" - delete "of" unless it is appropriate for the character
"Thanks Meg" - comma after "Thanks"
"invited a fourteen year old" - "fourteen-year-old"
"two year crush" - "two-year"
"to climb in the status quo" - "status quo" isn't what you mean here (it means "the existing state of affairs") - try "climb in status" instead
"sound proof backing" - "soundproof"
"a huge compliment in his book" - set this off with a dash rather than inside parentheses
period, not comma, after "I don't know"
"Instructing him to strum, then rearranging his fingers again, Paul got the sound right" - "Instructing him to strum" is action that belongs to John, not Paul. Try "After John instructed him to strum, then rearranged his fingers again, Paul got the sound right."
comma after "grinned at each other"
"at each other... liked each other" - The sentence sort of clunks because of the repeated phrase, but I'm not sure how to reword it. - comma after first "each other" if you keep it
"commanded John scoot over" - either "commanded that John scoot over" or "commanded John to scoot over"
comma after "difficult time for Maya"
comma after "inseparable for two years"
"seventeen year old" - hyphenate all
comma after "a ton of songs"
comma after "thinks you're good enough"
"Should I be flattered or…" - question mark after ellipses
"God that sounded dumb" - comma after "God"
"Oh Meg" - comma after "Oh"
comma after "agreeing with John anyway"
no comma after "Jessica and her friend"
"Well I don't" - comma after "Well"
"No you’re not" - comma after "No"
"Oh gee thanks" - comma after "gee"
"What do you think Meg" - comma after "think"
"I could almost see Mom’s horrified face" - dash instead of parentheses?
"Ill c u in an hour" - Under the circumstances, should this be "ill c u"? (I thought one of the rules of texting was to capitalize nothing)
"Now, slamming the front door and shouting up the stairs to me, I could hear the ecstatic delight in Paul’s voice" - "Now, as he slammed the front door and shouted up the stairs to me, I could hear..."
"I know Mom" - comma after "know" (always use a comma to separate a direct address from the rest of the dialogue)
"whom she was certain would become" - "who"
"homeless, drug addicted, criminal" - "homeless, drug-addicted criminal"
comma after "her boss's son"
"he would emanate his father" - Do you mean "emulate"?
"Oh yeah right" - comma after "yeah'
comma after "lent me fifty bucks"
"afraid your Mom" - "mom"
comma after "my house tomorrow"
"Alright" - "All right"
"I said getting up" - comma after "said"
"Yes ma’am" - comma after "Yes"
"No ma’am" - comma after "No"
comma after "Will you be staying over"
comma after "walking STD"
"Alright, you may go" - "All right" ("alright" isn't a word - the confusion comes form both "already" and all ready" being correct, depending on usage)
"guilt tripped" - "guilt-tripped"
comma after "same with your mom"
"Well he doesn’t exactly" - comma after "Well"
"And he sort of keen on them" - dropped word?
"his idol worship voice" - "his idol-worship voice"
"fake id" - "fake i.d."
"Oh hardly" - comma after "Oh"
comma after "He sounded so sexy"
Considering the length of this chapter, there are very few errors.
VERY good writing. Excellent sentence structure - plenty of variation and complex-yet-clear sentences - interesting narrative voice, good characterization both of the narrator and the people described by the narrator... NEVER let anyone say to you that you've done wrong by telling rather than showing, by the way. This chapter is an example of how to "tell, don't show" and make it work.
I don't normally like mainstream fiction, but I liked this. That's how good the writing is.

(for READ, WRITE, REVIEW Group)

[Safe&sound<3 ♫]

very, very nice! i liked the back story at the beginning.

READ, WRITE, REVIEW!

[Miss Sally Sunshine]

I liked it. I didn't really understand why you wrote the first part, but I do like your writing style, and I do like this chapter. Read, Write, Review.

[Calypso]

I think the chapter would be better if you made the chapter shorter. but that's just me.
I didn't see any mistake and the flow was good.

[FallenHeroXx]

I didn't read the whole thing. But i read it in bits. So i really like it. And i really think your style is good. Now i'm not the oldest writer in the world so i'm definetly not gonna say do that better or do this better. I didn't understand the start of the chapter. It was an interview i would guess. But it was a great start of a really good chapter. I like your style keep it up. Great Job. By the way. I like the text message things where you write like total teen style :) that's all from me.
READ WRITE REVIEW

A Fallen Hero

[Matthew Ian Herrawood W]

Im not sure why you wrote the beggining in script format ill have to read more to figure it out. it is VERY long and could easily be broken up into 2 (if not more) chapters. the quotation marks you say were origonaly dashes so even if they had stayed that way i would say that you need to change them to brackets. you suggest that paul is gay and then you have him joking about it and it seems he is not. one of these things in my opinion needs to be changed finnaly i would like you to describe things better what people look like what there surrounding looks like what can be heard smelt and felt? apart from that there is nothing wrong with this and i enjoyed it despite it not really being my normal reading material great job!
READ WRITE REVEIW

[J.M. Walsh]

I read the majority of that and am duly impressed. I think its the strongest piece of writing by you. I've spent a couple of years now reading amateur books and commenting on them and this really is a cut above the rest out there. Your technique is very developed, which is best seen in your dialogue - a major shortfall in most amateur novels.

I do hope you're still writing this novel as the story is a great idea and you have executed it well. It is definitely something that could be published. If you haven't done so already bring it over to authonomy (google it) and create a profile there. You'll recieve better feedback on it there.