“Rian, what are you doing up?” I asked harshly.
“I heard someone in the shower, and it made me need to pee.”
He got out of his bunk shirtless and clad in boxers. He slid right past me, our bare skin brushing against one another’s for just a brief moment. Rian had the tendency to cross many lines and break every rule; sometimes, I often thought that if I wasn’t his bandmate’s little sister, he would treat me as a groupie. He treated every pretty girl he saw like a groupie.
After I pulled my shirt over my head and put my hair up in a bun, I slid on a pair of pants. Buttoned and zipped up, I was in the clear; no one else was going to see my pink polka dot bra and matching undies. When Rian was done with the bathroom, I managed to squeeze back in to do my makeup, and when I was done, everyone was waking up and wanting their bathroom privileges.
One of the times Everett and I were left on the bus alone, I had come out of the bathroom right as he was passing by, and we had collided into one another and collapsed onto the floor on top of each other. We laughed and stared into each other’s eyes the way lovers do, and I wished I had known then what I know now. It wasn’t love; it was affection. A really strong form of affection. I wish I knew what love was and that maybe he could have stuck around long enough to show me. I’m eighteen, though; I have plenty of time to fall in and out of love with people. I didn’t know if it was worth the risk.
When everyone was ready, we all decided to get breakfast at a drivethru. Unfortunately, our bus didn’t make the clearance mark for the drivethru canopy, so we had to pile ourselves inside and order from the front counter. It wasn’t normally such a big deal, but with all the cameras following us around and our now easily recognizable faces, people were pouring their hearts out to us about Everett and their love for the band. They asked for pictures and if it was okay for them to ask in the first place. Ben didn’t mind, and he took pictures with everyone who asked. So did the rest of the band, including Splinter. For someone who was so bad at social interaction in high school, he acted like a pro when they asked him a million and one questions. I got our food and headed back to the bus, waiting for the boys to join me.
“Frances! Wait up!”
Splinter had just escaped from the crowd that was forming inside.
“Since when did you start calling me ‘Frances?’” I asked him, holding the bus door open for him.
“Since it catches your attention more than when I call you ‘Bea.’”
We sat in the lounge area and decided against waiting for the others to return so we could eat our food.
“How are you doing?” he asked around a bite of his McMuffin.
“I’m fine, I suppose. How are you?”
“No,” he said, “I mean, how are you…how are you with your mourning?”
Ah. He wanted to know about my ever-sinking depression.
“I’m doing better,” I lied, and he either couldn’t tell or refused to call me out on it.
“Good, I’m glad.”
We ate in silence until the boys came back. Then, things got loud. We were all singing and shouting and laughing. It was all about appearances. If I laughed enough, smiled widely enough, and talked happily enough, maybe no one would notice.
***
The show was pretty amazing, and the stakes for the pranks were high. After Ben found a creepy baby doll left on the street, we all took turns and drew on its face to make it even creepier then created it its own Twitter and Instagram account. It was a harmless thing at first, at least until it had more followers than any of us combined. Tour Bus Baby was a hit.
Before we found Tour Bus Baby, I had joined forces with Rian and spiked Ben’s shampoo with blue hair dye. Only, Grayson ended up using it instead, and his normally light brown hair came out of the shower in a turquoise shade that made us all roar with laughter.
It seemed like everyone was having a good time, and I was glad. I hadn’t had an anonymous text, I hadn’t had any nightmares—things were really getting better. When we went back to the bus after cleaning up the confetti, whipped cream, and silly string in the green room, I climbed into my bunk and skillfully changed into my pajamas without doing much moving around. It was something I had mastered during the second leg of the tour.
Usually after shows, the boys wanted to shower, and that could take all night with as much as they sweated during their performances. I eventually got fed up with all the rushing from the bunks to the bathroom and to the lounge, and figured out a way to change without being seen or getting in anyone’s way. It was truly an art form.
When I was done and the boys had finished all their bathroom business, I went to brush my teeth for the night. When I was done and I came back, I checked my phone. It was mainly Twitter feed updates and trending hashtags about Eden Sank and Tour Bus Baby. And this message:
Anonymous: Tick, tock. It’s like a clock. Pay your dues, or your head will meet with my Glock.
Wide-eyed and terrified, I deleted the message. I tried to hide my trembling by getting under the covers in my bunk and pretending to sleep. I needed to tell someone, but who could I even tell? I knew Splinter knew something was going on even though he hadn’t mentioned it.
I found it hard to sleep that night. The last time I had such trouble sleeping on the bus was the first few nights. Everett had told me a trick: “Put in some headphones and listen to a playlist. It’ll block out the noise of the bus, and it’ll help you asleep.”
I put on the 8tracks app and found a playlist. The first song that came on was, “Saturday Smile” by Gin Wigmore.
I fell asleep shortly, and I knew wherever we were headed next, I would be okay for the night. This person, whoever was sending me these texts, was only trying to scare me. I didn’t want to admit that it was working, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little frightened. However, I had to believe they couldn’t hurt me when I was with my brother and his band. I had to believe I was untouchable when I was with them—otherwise, I’d never feel safe. I didn’t know how I’d ever feel safe when I was on my own, except I wouldn’t be on my own for a while. It could wait. At least that’s what I wanted to believe.
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. It was enough to get me to crawl out of bed and track down the source. The boys were all sitting around the table, eating, and when I sat down to join them, I noticed how quiet they were being.
“What’s going on, guys?” I asked, piling food onto my plate.
“Nothing, Frances,” Rian said sharply.
Though curious about what might be happening, I didn’t prod any further. I would have to find out like everyone else in the world: through social media. I checked my phone underneath the table, and what I found left me in disbelief. They had found the person who’d shot Everett—and he was dead. Apparently, the guy came forward with some information about another planned shooting, and he couldn’t even get through the door of the police station because someone had shot him on the front steps, execution style.
“What does this mean?” I asked quietly.
“We don’t know, Frances,” Ben said gently. “They’re going to investigate, but this isn’t our business. It’s the business of—”
“Everett’s family, I know. But he’s our family too!” I cried out.
They had to tell us something. If Ryker could tell Ben that his shooting was intentional, then maybe he could tell us what was going on with the shooter. I wanted to know—no—I needed to know. Whoever this guy was, he was going to come after me next. He held the answers to the reason I was being harassed so relentlessly, what my “dues” were, and who I needed to pay them to. Now, he was dead, and someone else held the answers I desperately sought.
Violently shoving my plate away from me, I rushed back to the bunks and curled up into a ball. I didn’t know what to do about this. I was only eighteen, and I had the world on my shoulders. That’s what it felt like every damned day. The weight of the world was breaking my back, and I had no one to help me
take a load off. Everything was falling to pieces when it should have been falling into place, and I didn’t know how to ask for help. I was helpless, and I was filled with remorse all over again. I didn’t realize I had been crying until Ben squeezed himself into my bunk and held me.
“We were going to wait to tell you,” he said, and it only made me cry more.
“You could have at least tried to act normally,” I replied through the tears.
“We couldn’t. We couldn’t be loud and obnoxious with this on our minds. We knew how it would hurt you, and it hurt us. We couldn’t bear to do that to you. Sissa, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I cried even more. Whenever he called me Sissa, the nickname wrapped a secure layer of love and protection around me. Right then, I felt frayed at the edges and like a piece of junk. But once he called me Sissa, it was as if none of that mattered. It used to annoy the crap out of me, and now that he called me that stupid little name, I was a heaping mess of tears.
“Today is a break day. Why don’t we go look around town?” he suggested.
“Where are we?”
“We’re in Springfield, Missouri. We can look around if you want. We don’t have to do anything drastic. We can wear wigs and costumes to hide from everyone so no one will know that it’s us.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
We got dressed in clothes that would easily blend with the crowd, and Ben wore sunglasses and a beanie, as well as a jacket to cover his arms full of tattoos. I dressed in my usual attire of a tank top with an open flannel shirt, denim shorts, and Converse. Today, I had my hair up in a bun, and my eyes were covered by a pair of aviators. When we went out to go sightseeing, it was wonderful. We spent the day eating and doing everything we could within a few hours. When the sun was setting, we went over to a park and looked at the horizon while eating convenience store burritos, something I told Ben we would be paying for later that night.
He wrapped an arm around me. “You know, you’re young and wild. At least you can be. Frances, the world is yours for the taking. You can literally do anything you want. I’m not saying that because I’m your big brother and I believe in you more than any college or manager ever will. I say that because it’s true.
“You’re my little sister, and you’ve been through so much in such a short time. It’s sad, but let me tell you something I learned a long time ago: the people who have seen the most tragedy end up having the most success in life. You know why?”
I shook my head, and he smiled.
“They never give up—that’s why. They’ve been to Hell and back, and they survived. You’re a warrior, Frances Beatrice Morrison. You fight to get what you want and what you deserve. You’ll do whatever it takes to get on top. I know this since I’ve done the same thing. We’re bred to be fighters, Frances. We weren’t born to be quitters. We were born to fight. And fight we will, until our last breath.”
I laid my head against his shoulder. It was nice to hear all that from him, and it gave me a bit of hope. Hope for a future I had trouble envisioning at the moment. I knew everything would be all right. As long as I had Ben by my side, I would make it out alive. He was right; we weren’t born to quit—we were born to fight. I was being a quitter when I needed to suit up and take back what was mine. I needed to find the warrior within me and let her take over. Everything that was happening to me was for a reason, and I wasn’t going to let it take me down now. Not when I had so much to live for.
The world was mine, and I was going to take it.
CHAPTER TEN
Our last day in Missouri went really well. We had another show, and once that was wrapped up, we were on the road again. I kept remembering little things again, things that we had done together during the summer up until Everett had died.
One particular day, Splinter and I were alone on the bus. He was playing Taylor Swift’s album 1989, and I was reading a book. I asked him to turn down the music, and he refused.
“Don’t you like T. Swift, Bea? C’mon, she’s like a queen,” he said, which made me laugh.
“Sounds like you love her.”
The song “Shake It Off” came on, and I saw him switch on the repeat button on the sound system.
“I’m gonna play this song until you admit that you like her even just a little bit.”
He was dancing to the song, and I was trying to ignore him by shielding my eyes with the book. It was no use. He was being so obnoxious.
“Splinter, cut that out. You’re being annoying.”
“Am I? Good! Come dance with me, Bea.” He was doing the Carlton, and all I could do was shake my head.
“I’m not dancing with you.” The song played another three times until I finally gave in. I was dancing with Splinter and lip-syncing to the song. It was ridiculous, but I kind of did like Taylor Swift. It was more of a guilty pleasure, though. I remember how freeing it was.
“Bea?” Splinter called out to me.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as we drove through the sunset.
“Sure, I’m okay.”
I looked at him closely, and I thought how I really had misunderstood him in high school.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
He looked at me curiously and asked, “Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry for being such a bitch in high school. You didn’t deserve it.”
He laughed.
“That wasn’t meant to be funny, Splinter!” I said, slamming him with a pillow.
“I know it isn’t. It’s just…I never thought you’d be the one to apologize. I guess I was wrong.” He shrugged. “I guess you are doing better.”
“I guess I am,” I answered.
“Okay, kids, time for bed,” Ben yelled, and I groaned. I may have been in my pajamas, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go to bed right then and there.
“Fine, five more minutes. No more!” He was acting more like the mother we never had as the days passed. It made me want to laugh and cry.
“So, we’ve got five minutes. What do you want to do?” Splinter asked.
“Relax, I suppose.”
He faked a snore, and I glared at him.
“You might as well go to sleep with that attitude, Bea. We need to take advantage of these last five waking minutes!”
“Yeah, you do what you want to do. I’m just going to relax.”
He let out a sigh and made his way out of the lounge and back into the bunk area.
While I was relaxing, I tried to think of Everett and Mackynsie. At all I could do was see their deaths: Mackynsie and her car accident and Everett getting shot. That’s all I had left of them. I didn’t have any pictures of Everett, and all the ones I had of Mackynsie were back at home, packed away in boxes. I wanted a part of them that no one could take away from me, that not even time could take away from me.
Time takes everything away eventually, and someone can always steal your happiness if you let them. I had memories of them stored in a drawer in the back of my brain, but was it really enough to remember them forever? When I first met Mackynsie, we were in kindergarten, and we had been in the middle of a fight with two girls over some crayons. It was ridiculous, but we were ready to tag team those girls together.
After spending time in the corner together, we had promised we would always have each other’s back.
“Promise?” I had asked her.
“I promise,” she’d replied as we were told not to talk.
From there, it was pure chaos. We always managed to get into some form of trouble, and we moved from corners to detention desks, to afterschool punishments. It was always worth it. She always did have my back, and I always had hers. That didn’t change until we went to Rosewood.
Things were different between us there, and quickly noticed how different she was. A lot had changed for me too. I wasn’t a virgin, and she was, I didn’t have a boyfriend and she did. Even though it was petty stuff, we still had plenty of differences t
hat were piled up against us. Despite it all, it was hard to not keep up with one another. She was in charge, and she was the star of the school. I was a nobody.
“Bea, it’s time for bed,” Splinter called.
“Fine, let’s catch some ‘z’s.”
While I was walking back into the bunk area, I wondered idly why Ben wanted us to go to bed so early.
***
The first time I saw Eden Sank play live was in the living room in an old apartment Ben and I lived in with our mother. I was eight years old, and Ben had just turned sixteen. He thought he was all that because he had gotten his driver’s license and a beat-up old car that he had been saving up for since he was twelve. It was a rust bucket and a gas-guzzler, but he loved it. This was also the first time I met the boys. Rian, Grayson, and Everett. They played some song they had been working real hard on, and it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t that great either. I had set out all my stuffed animals like they were watching along with me, and when they were done, the boys bowed to us and said, “Goodnight, New York!” as if we were an actual audience. Humble beginnings for these guys and they never let the fame get to their heads. Even the high school popularity crap hadn’t affected them. They didn’t get big headed over any of it. I appreciated that. It showed me that being humble was the best way to be.
“Wakey, wakey, shake and bakey!”
I heard this being shouted from what must have been a megaphone, and it was almost like my last memory at Rosewood when that asshole of a guy used a megaphone against Splinter.
I jumped out of my bunk and snatched the megaphone from Rian.
“Who made you God and allowed you to use a megaphone this early in the morning? Stop it. Just stop!”
I threw the megaphone off to the side, and went to the bathroom to laughter coming from the bunks of the other band members.
When I was done getting ready, I went into the lounge, where breakfast was waiting. I piled food onto my plate and ate silently until everyone came in from the bunks. Most of the guys were still in their PJs, all except for Ben. Ben was dressed to the nines, and I was wondering what on Earth had made him dress in a fancy shirt and tie.
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