by JL Bryan
“No, none of that new stuff!” Mitch flicked through the MP3 player mounted in Jason's dashboard.
“Sorry, there's nothing hardcore like Claudia Lafayette on there,” Jason told him.
“Very funny,” Mitch said. “I don't listen to her music. I just like the t-shirts and stuff. They're funny.”
“Sure,” Jason said.
“You're just too young to have a properly developed sense of irony.”
“Yeah, you're a whole year older than me,” Jason said as he backed out of the driveway. “Spill your vast wisdom. So what's it going to be—The Rolling Stones?”
“I'm tempted. But a moment like this deserves something extra special. How about...” The Velvet Underground blasted over Jason's speakers.
“Acceptable,” Jason said, then punched the accelerator. They roared out of Mitch's neighborhood at eighty miles an hour. He was grinning. One thing he and Mitch both agreed on was that classic, guitar-driven rock was superior to anything on the local radio, where half the time it was just digital beats and Auto-Tuned voices.
They drove to Jason's house, where a few carloads of Jason’s relatives had already arrived. The band was flying to Ireland the next day, so this was their big send-off party with friends and family.
They walked into the front door. Jason's parents stood at the kitchen table, where the appetizers were—a pitcher of lemonade, corn chips and salsa, vegetables with ranch dressing. His parents were talking with his Aunt Polly and Uncle Ned, who'd come all the way from Sheboygan. His cousin Tori sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, ignoring everyone, absorbed in texting with her phone.
“There's our big rock and roller!” Ned walked over to Jason, his gut bulging out between his suspenders. He clapped Jason a little too hard on the shoulder. “I hear things are happening for you.”
“We'll see,” Jason said. “I hope so.”
“Just think,” Aunt Polly said, grabbing him up in a hug that reeked of gardenia perfume. Aunt Polly was almost as big as Uncle Ned. “We'll be able to say we know him when he's on the cover of the National Enquirer.”
“The tabloid?” Jason asked, trying to breathe as his aunt squeezed him.
“Well, sure, that's where all the famous people are,” Aunt Polly said.
“Maybe he'll even be on 60 Minutes,” Uncle Ned said.
“Yeah, maybe.” Jason looked around for Mitch, but Mitch had wandered off somewhere. “How are you doing, Tori?”
His cousin scowled at him, then turned her eyes back down to her phone.
“What's wrong?” Jason asked.
“Oh, she's a little disappointed you won't be playing at her birthday,” Aunt Polly said.
“I don't care!” Tori snapped.
“It does seem a shame to have a celebrity in the family who can't even make time for his own cousin's birthday,” Aunt Polly said.
“I can't help it,” Jason said. “We're going to be in Ireland for the next six weeks. I'm sorry, Tori. Maybe next—”
“I said I don't care!” Tori snapped. She stood up and stalked out of the room, staring at her iPhone. “Don't want to hear any more about your stupid band, anyway.”
“Tori, that's no way for a guest to behave!” Aunt Polly shouted after her.
“It's okay,” Jason said.
“Let me just give you one piece of advice before you go out in the world.” Uncle Ned placed a meaty hand on Jason's shoulder. “Wake up early every day, and always get plenty to eat. Do those two things, and the rest'll just take care of itself.”
“Um, thanks, Uncle Ned.”
“Aren't you so proud of him?” Aunt Polly asked Jason's mom. “I would be so proud.”
“We just hope he stays safe over there,” Jason's mom said.
“Ireland, is it?” Uncle Ned said. “Say hi to Tom Jones if you see him.”
“Who?” Jason asked.
“He's Welsh, Ned,” Aunt Polly said.
“Well, and so?” Uncle Ned asked. “Who's Irish?”
“U2 is Irish,” Jason said.
“That's right,” Uncle Ned said. “Say hi to Boney if you see him.”
“Bono?” Jason asked.
“Hi, Jason!” Dred said, walking into the room with Mitch. She did something unprecedented and gave Jason a hug. She was smiling, too—also unprecedented.
“You're in a good mood,” Jason said.
“I just can't wait to go!” Dred said. “I've never been so excited. Are you all packed? I'm packed.”
“Packed and ready,” Jason said.
“Locked and loaded,” Mitch said. Dred rolled her eyes.
More people arrived—Dred's parents, a couple of big, outgoing people who drove a rattling farm truck. Mitch's mom, who'd scheduled the night off from the hospital. Neighbors, relatives, kids from school.
“You guys have to call me when you make a video,” said Tadd, who had filmed their earlier videos that had gone viral. He'd trapped Jason in one corner of the kitchen. “I'm experienced directing around your special instruments.” Tadd added an exaggerated wink.
“That sounds good!” Jason said. “It's up to the record company, though.”
“Pull some strings, man.” Tadd waggled his fingers. “Make it happen.”
Jason nodded, and Tadd strolled off to grab Mitch's shoulder and repeat his request.
Then Jason watched Erin walk into the living room, Zach's arm around her.
“What's up, bro?” Zach offered Jason one of his fist bumps, which Jason very reluctantly returned.
“Hi, Erin,” Jason said. She smiled.
“Big day for all of us, huh?” Zach asked.
“What do you mean, all of us?” Jason asked.
“The band, you know. This is going to be huge. I just know it.” Zach beamed at Erin. “Just like I've always said. Erin's more talented than any of these pop stars you see on TV.”
“You never cared about the band until we got a record contract,” Jason said.
“Jason!” Erin said. “That's not true.”
“I've always been the number one fan of the Assorted Zebras,” Zach said.
“How? You never came to any rehearsals. Or our gigs.”
“We've only had two,” Erin said.
“See? Just two gigs and you're signed with a major label,” Zach said. “That's how good you are. There's only one problem, though.”
“What's that?” Jason asked.
“I'm going to miss my little lamb-head.” Zach kissed Erin's cheek.
“Aw, I'll miss you, too.” Erin leaned against him. “But it's only six weeks. Make a record, make a couple videos, then we're back home.”
“That's too long for me to wait,” Zach said. “But don't worry, I'll come visit as much as I can.”
“Come visit?” Jason asked. “In Ireland?”
“You got it. Wherever my girl goes, I'll be there,” Zach said, with a wink at Erin.
Jason felt his heart sink a little. He'd been looking forward to spending time with Erin, thousands of miles from the irritatingly perfect Zach. Maybe she would have started to feel differently about Jason. But it sounded like there wouldn't be much time for that.
“Isn't that great?” Erin asked, beaming at Zach. “He's coming all the way to Ireland just to see me.”
“Whoa, Zach's coming to Ireland with us?” Mitch asked as he escaped Tadd, who was approaching Dred, probably to again mention how he ought to direct the band's video.
“Mick! What's up, bro?” Zach slapped Mitch's shoulder. “I'm not coming right away. Got a shoot next week. ‘Buddy McSlawburger's – Our Secret is Our Slaw.’” Zach posed with an imaginary hamburger and big grin. “Hey, don't you work there, Jason? Making fries or something?”
“I did,” Jason said. He resisted an urge to jab a thumb in Zach's eye. “I'm kind of focused on the record contract thing now.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Zach said. He hugged Erin a little closer against him. “We're all going to be rock stars
now.”
“You're not in the band, Zach,” Dred said as she walked by. Tadd tagged along beside her, talking up some vision he had for a new music video, which she was ignoring.
“She's right,” Jason said.
“No biggie,” Mitch said. “Zach can be an honorary band member.”
“Thanks, Mick!” Zach said. “I could be your hype man. 'Assorted Zebras in the house!'”
“We don't need a hype man,” Jason said.
“He's just kidding, Jason,” Erin said.
“Sure. I knew that. I have to go and...refill the ranch dip...or something.” Jason wandered away from them and out onto the front porch. He was surprised to find Katie on the steps, frowning. He sat down next to her.
“What's wrong, Katie?” he asked.
“You're leaving,” Katie said.
“Just for a while.”
“Just for all summer!” Katie said. “Then what?”
“Hopefully we're going on tour,” Jason said. “But I'll be back before that.”
“Can't I go with you?” Katie asked.
“I don't think Mom and Dad would let you do that.”
“Can you ask them?”
“I know they won't,” Jason said. “You're only six, Katie.”
“I know how old I am!” she said. “I'm not a little kid.”
“Well, technically—”
“Just go without me. You don't like me anyway.”
“I do! Katie...” Jason tried to think of something to say, but Katie was already on her feet, stomping her way back into the house and pouting.
Jason sat by himself, listening to the party inside. He noticed Erin's mom and stepdad hadn't showed up for the send-off party, which was fine with him. They probably loved Zach, too.
More cars pulled up, but they weren’t anybody’s parents. The doors opened and a bunch of kids from school poured out, mostly sophomores and juniors.
Jason stood up as the dozen or so kids approached.
“Hi, Jason!” one girl yelled. It took Jason a moment to recognize her—a sophomore named Wendy. She and her friends had stalked him at work the same week that the first Assorted Zebras video became hugely popular on YouTube, despite the fact that it had been made by a middle-school kid with an iPhone.
“Hi,” Jason said.
“It's true!” Wendy shouted into her phone. “Huge Assorted Zebras bash at Jason Becker's house!”
“Oh, it's not a really a bash,” Jason said, while the kids clomped past him up the stairs. They all seemed to be calling their friends. “Seriously. It's a get-together. A snack-and-chat. You don't need to invite more people—”
Wendy caught him in a tight hug.
“Is is true?” Wendy asked. “You're going to New York to make a record?”
“No, I heard it was London,” said Wendy's friend who was always with her. That girl's name was Presley.
“Actually, Dublin,” Jason said. “We signed with Malarkay Records—”
“That's awesome!” Wendy said. “Let's get a picture!” She and Presley put their arms around Jason, while one of their boyfriends snapped pics with his phone. Jason made himself smile, feeling weird.
More cars arrived out on the street, while another gang of kids arrived on bicycles and dropped them in Jason's yard on the way to his house. These were rough-looking middle-schoolers wearing black shirts and chain wallets.
“Party!” one of them yelled, making devil horns with his fingers.
“Hey, it's not like a public party!” Jason said. “It's just for people who were invited—”
“You rock, Jason!” One of the middle-schoolers played air guitar in Jason's direction while they all ran into his house.
A flood of people approached his house, kids from both high schools and the middle schools. They all converged towards his front door like a mob of zombies. Jason had an urge to run inside, lock the doors, and board up the windows—but it was already too late.
The wave of kids pushed him back into his house, closing in around him as girls hugged him and guys slapped his hands. Before he stumbled back through his front door, the last thing he saw was a second, bigger wave of kids arriving. Apparently nobody had anything better to do tonight, anywhere in town.
“Jason, who are all these people?” Jason's mom shouted to him through the dense crowd in the foyer, which was pressing into the kitchen, the dining room, and even up the stairs.
“Um, just people from school!” Jason said.
“This is too many!” his mom shouted back. “You'll have to ask them to leave—”
Then his mom was drowned out by the stereo cranking up in the living room, Jay-Z thumping loud enough to rattle the windows. In the dining room, the uninvited guests fell onto the refreshments like a swarm of locusts. The bowl of ranch dressing toppled over onto the carpet. Something shattered in the kitchen. Kids mobbed in close around Jason and the other band members, grabbing at them.
“Hey, everybody!” Jason waved his arms over his head. “You have to go!”
Nobody could hear him over the music, and now most of the crowd started dancing, ignoring Jason's pleas.
The crowd was soon out of control, toppling over furniture, knocking pictures from the wall, dancing on the tables. Jason's parents watched in horror as the mob of teenagers wrecked their house.
Jason found Mitch in the crowd.
“What do we do?” Jason shouted. Mitch shook his head and said something Jason couldn't hear. “What?” Jason asked.
“Your guitar!” Mitch shouted. “Go grab your guitar. Get control of them.”
Jason looked at the stairs, jammed with dancing kids. He tried to squeeze past them, but there was no room, and they either didn't notice or didn't care that he was trying to get by them.
“I can't!” Jason told Mitch. “It's out of control!”
“Welcome to the life of a rock star!” Mitch shouted over the music and crowd. “I bet this happens to Mick Jagger all the time!”
“We need to get them out of here!” Jason said. “Help me tell everybody to leave!”
“I'll try,” Mitch said.
They started approaching people individually and asking them to leave, but nobody listened, even if they could hear.
“Great party!” Jason's fan Wendy grabbed him by the arm. “Dance with me!”
“You need to go,” Jason said. “Everybody needs to go! My parents are going to kill me!”
“Not until after we dance!” Wendy shouted.
Then the music stopped, and everybody booed. Jason tried to look into the living room to see if somebody had broken the stereo, but he couldn't see anything.
A long, haunting note played through the house. Then another. The crowd quieted, looking at each other. Even Jason found himself less agitated, and fascinated by the music.
The crowd parted slightly as Erin walked through, playing her wooden harmonica decorated with fairy runes. Everyone was watching her, and her boyfriend Zach was right behind her, gaping at her with big, dopey eyes. She lowered the instrument for a moment and sang:
Everybody come with me,
There's a better party down the street,
If you weren't invited here
Move your feet, move your feet...
She resumed playing as she walked slowly toward the door. Kids fell in line behind her. Jason propped open the storm door and smiled at Erin as she passed. She winked at him as she kept playing the deep, hypnotic tones. He had to fight the urge to follow her, to stay as close to that soul-touching music as he could.
Erin walked down the front steps and out to the street, kids filing after her in a long, tight line, like ants on the march. They followed her music away from Jason's house and down the street. Jason watched, amazed, as all the uninvited guests poured out the front door.
When the last one had left, he walked back inside to see his wrecked and dirty house, as well as his angry parents standing in the foyer.
“I didn't invite them!” Jason said.
“Party's over,” Jason's dad said. “We better get started cleaning up this mess.”
“I hope your friends had a good time wrecking our house,” his mom said. Jason didn't think he'd done anything wrong—he hadn't invited all those people—but he still felt guilty.
He grabbed a broom.