Boring Girls

by Sara Taylor

  And the whole thing with Jamie still bothered me. No, there hadn’t been anything between us and I had probably imagined anything I had felt, but I had liked him. I guess. Sort of. As much as you can like a person for having known them for ten minutes. The only other person I’d ever liked was Craig, and that had been a complete waste of time, and so long ago now that it made no sense at all. And he’d asked me out, but I’d said no. Was there something wrong with me for not having a boyfriend? Was this something I should be worrying about as well? Entering my last year of high school without ever having kissed a guy, or even really having wanted to kiss a guy?

  xXx

  Good news came the night before school started. Fern called me, freaking out. “Guess who is playing in St. Charles in October? Oh, you won’t ever guess.”

  “Heathenistic Bile?” I shrieked in excitement.

  “No, you idiot,” she laughed. “Oh god. It’s awesome!”

  “Who?”

  “DED. They’re coming. They’re finally coming! I’m going to pick up tickets tomorrow after school if you want to come.”

  And so, with all the giddy, blind enthusiasm of a little child chasing something shiny across the street and running into the path of a speeding truck, I set my course towards the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person.

  It’s the type of thing where you look back on all the choices you made that led you to the horrible moment and wish that you could go back. Just change it. The kind of thing where your stomach gets queasy when you remember how stupid you were, and you want to pull out clumps of your own hair and slap yourself in the face to somehow get rid of the regret you feel at your own past ignorance.

  And there were so many omens too, now that I look at them. Socks and Edgar couldn’t make it that weekend. So it would just be me and Fern. Craig, who was still pals with everyone, had moved to college and couldn’t afford the tickets. Even Yvonne bailed. It was just me and Fern, picking out our outfits for weeks, giggling on the phone. Sitting in my bedroom, listening to Punish and Kill on repeat, staring up at my poster of Balthazar Seizure, saturating myself in it, inviting it.

  It was going to be the biggest concert, the most exciting event in the last few years for us, and no one else we knew was going. Yeah — Fern and me, standing together in idiot silhouettes against the fucking mushroom cloud.

  THIRTY-ONE

  That fall, our band got offers to play a few more shows. I guess word had spread about our show, and not only did a few places in Port Claim offer us gigs, but a few bands from other cities wanted us to open for them. All the offers were pretty lousy. Yeah, we’d had a good show, but no one was offering us money. The places in Port Claim couldn’t pay us enough to compensate for the gas money it would cost to get there. There was no way to gauge how many people would come. And besides, with school being in and me trying to keep the band quiet from my parents, it wasn’t likely at all that I’d be able to go away for a possible weekend show. The others were understanding about it; it wasn’t like we were giving up some great opportunities.

  And besides, Fern and I had enough to look forward to with DED coming.

  As the day of the concert drew nearer, we laid out our plans. Of course we were going to try to meet the band. Fern had already packed up a few of our CDs to give them, even though Edgar worried that we shouldn’t be giving them away. He was right, we needed every cent of the money, but this was a good opportunity.

  “Maybe they’ve heard of us already after the whole puking thing,” Fern said.

  Maybe. I didn’t want to get ahead of ourselves, but the night before the show as I gazed at my outfit in the mirror, I definitely felt like Fern and I were going into this as more than fans. It was the same vibe I’d tried to inspire when we’d met Marie-Lise, but this time with more experience. We’d toured! Kind of. Surely that put us up on the same level as DED. I shook my head, laughing at my own stupidity.

  I thought my outfit looked great, black and blue striped knee socks and a black skirt and top. I’d match the light blue in the socks with the same shade of eyeshadow, which I thought would look very striking. My eyes moved from my reflection in the mirror up to my poster of Balthazar Seizure.

  “Tomorrow,” I said.

  xXx

  Our plan was pretty lame. We were going to take the same early bus to St. Charles, exactly the way we had done for Gurgol. The difference was that last time, Socks and Edgar had met us at the show and we’d all driven back in the van. This time, we’d purchased return tickets in hopes that the show would end in time for us to catch the last bus back to Keeleford. If we missed that bus, well, we’d just have to figure something out. Nice, right? See? Another damn sign. I don’t know what the hell we were thinking.

  But at the time, it just seemed like details. We’d work it all out later. The important thing was getting to St. Charles and trying to meet DED.

  I sat in the window seat with Fern beside me. “Fern, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. Last year. That guy Steve, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” I remembered Fern talking to me on the phone about him. At the time I had been disinterested in the whole thing and had barely paid attention when she’d talked about him. “That was for a few months, right?”

  “Yeah, like three months.” She rolled her eyes. “He was a jerk.”

  “Right.” I’d never met the guy, but I recalled something about him dumping her for some other girl. “He was a jerk.”

  “Guys are a waste of time,” she said firmly, settling back in her seat. “I don’t want to think about that stuff.”

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend,” I said.

  “You’re just saving yourself a lot of grief.” She smiled. “What about that Jamie guy, from Torn Bowel? He liked you, didn’t he?”

  I was surprised. I guess I hadn’t imagined that. “Not really. I think he did for a few minutes for, like, one day. But then after that first show, I think it went away.”

  “Maybe he was grossed out after you puked.”

  “I don’t even care. I don’t want a boyfriend,” I said, lifting my chin. “I have other things to think about.”

  “I feel the same way. But you know what, after you meet Balthazar Seizure, and he falls madly in love with you . . . you might change your mind.” She reached over and dug her finger into my ribs, grinning.

  “Oh, right!”

  xXx

  Fern and I got off at the station in St. Charles. The DED show was at a place called Terminal 66. As we had last time, we got into a taxi and had the driver take us there. It was across town from the bus station, and traffic in the city was annoying, so the cab ended up costing us more than we’d planned. But finally we pulled up in front of the big building — much bigger than Gurgol’s gig — and climbed out of the cab.

  “Oh, no,” Fern said. We were beside the driveway that would lead us to the back parking lot, but it was closed up with a big chain-link fence, and the gate was padlocked. Part of me was relieved. If we had been able to get back to the buses, what would we have done? Knocked on the door?

  “Do you think they’re in there?” I asked.

  “I’m sure they are,” she said. “But we aren’t getting in.”

  “What do you think the chances are that they’ll be hanging out in some coffee shop nearby?”

  “We can go look.”

  Fern and I walked around the area. We had time to kill. Any patio we saw had no one resembling anyone in a band sitting on it. It seemed like we were out of luck. I was sort of feeling like a stalker anyway.

  We chose one of the coffee shops and ordered ourselves some drinks and sandwiches. It would be too bad if we didn’t get to meet DED today, but at the same time, I mean, how many people get to meet bands anyway? We were lucky that we’d managed to run into Marie-Lise.

  Fern and I spent the afterno
on walking around. We went to a department store where we tried on some expensive makeup samples, a bookstore where we spent a few hours browsing and reading, and finally a small restaurant where we had dinner and got changed into our outfits for the show. Fern and I had always managed to have fun even back home walking around the downtown for hours, so wasting a full afternoon together in St. Charles was no problem.

  It was early evening when we wandered back to Terminal 66, and there was a giant lineup out front. The sun was going down and it was getting chilly. I was glad I’d brought my sweater, pulling it on as we joined the end of the line.

  When the line finally started moving and we got up to the doors, the security guy hollered at us, “No backpacks inside. You have to check them,” grabbing our tickets and ushering us inside. The lobby of the place was packed with people, some filing into the main room and some crowding around the coat-check area. Fern and I took our purses out of our bags and eventually managed to get up to the counter, where we had to pay five bucks each to check our backpacks.

  “The CDs are in there,” Fern lamented.

  “Yeah, so are our clothes.” But we had no choice, so we checked them, and then entered the main room.

  The place was packed. Fern and I tried to find a place along the side of the room where we would be able to see the stage without getting pushed around. We finally found a decent spot, and as I surveyed the crowd, I thought I saw a few of the Torn Bowel guys on the floor. Before I could point them out to Fern, they were swallowed up into the mass of people. At least people-watching, and trying to see if I could find them again, was a way to pass the time before the show began.

  There were two opening bands, both well received by the crowd but completely mediocre as far as I was concerned. I wished that we’d gotten this gig, but Fern explained that the two bands were on the same record label as DED and so they were probably on the tour with them to try to get them famous as well. It was more money for the record label that way. Well, I didn’t see them getting famous. They weren’t very good.

  When the second band had finished, the room started to buzz. DED was next, and we watched some crew guys bring off the second band’s gear. DED’s stuff was set up behind it. The guys worked quickly, carrying the giant rack of weapons I’d seen on the internet videos. They pulled away a sheet to reveal the giant skull. The best part happened when the last band’s banner was pulled down, and DED’s giant banner was revealed beneath it. DIE EVERY DEATH was scrawled in giant letters, and the crowd cheered.

  The room went completely dark. The cheer was deafening. There must’ve been a thousand people there, maybe more. Fern and I yelled too, adding our voices to the roar. Giant flames shot into the air from either side of the stage, revealing the five band members standing stock-still, each at their instruments, Balthazar centre stage.

  When the flames went down, everything launched into blackness again.

  “Die every death. Die every death.” The low voice came through the dark, whispering into the microphone, and we all screamed. The crowd began to chant along with him. Die every death. Die every death.

  The flames shot high again as the band launched into “I Ignore Your Screams.” Fern and I started freaking out, along with every other person in the room.

  The band played incredibly, with Balthazar looming tall and angry above the crowd. He swung around his battle-axe, he growled and paced, he stalked across the stage. The skull began bubbling the dark red blood from its eyes, and Balthazar filled his hands with it and threw it at the crowd. They played every single song I could possibly have wanted to hear. Sometimes people would climb up onto the stage to dive and crowd-surf, and Balthazar would go up behind them and shove them roughly back into the crowd, glowering and snarling.

  It was absolutely amazing.

  THIRTY-TWO

  We should have left after the show, along with everyone else who started filing out. We should have gotten in a taxi and gone back to the bus station to wait for the late bus home.

  “Let’s try to meet them,” I said instead. The house lights had come on, and the crowd pressed towards the back of the room and the exit doors. The room stank of sweat and smoke, and the crew guys were beginning to leisurely tear down DED’s equipment.

  “How?” Fern asked.

  “We’ll ask them.” I gestured at the guys onstage.

  “What about the CDs?”

  “Forget them. If we meet them we can tell them about the band. They probably won’t care anyway. But we can ask them how to get a record deal and stuff like that. Get some advice.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Fern and I walked up to the stage.

  “Hey,” I called up to one of the guys. He looked down at me. “We want to meet the band.”

  The guy grinned at me. “You want to talk to that dude over there,” he said, pointing. There was a door beside the stage. In front of it stood a large, fat guy with long hair. In front of him stood a group of girls, all in short skirts and dresses.

  “Great,” I muttered. “There’s a bunch of skanks and they’ll think we’re no better than they are.”

  “We can try,” Fern said. She took my arm and we went to the back of the group of girls.

  “C’mon, Jerry. Pleeeeease?” One of the girls was flirting with the fat guy. “Last time I came through I hung with the band. Sid will want to see me again.”

  The big guy grinned at her, obviously enjoying this whole thing. I was disgusted to see his teeth were brown and rotten. “Sid won’t remember you, sweetheart,” he said, moving his eyes across each of the girls.

  “Sure he will.”

  The girls started to talk all at once, each of them insisting they knew someone in the band, and all of them were being so flirtatious with this toad. I was completely confused by it.

  “Jerry, if you get us backstage, we’ll make it worth your while,” purred one of the girls, sliding her arm around her friend. Both of them smiled at him seductively.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Jerry laughed. “C’mon back.”

  The other girls wailed in disappointment as he allowed the two girls past him and through the door. The group began to disperse.

  “I’m not going to blow that disgusting guy just to meet a bunch of assholes,” I heard one of them say to her friend in disgust as they walked past us.

  “I don’t like this,” Fern said.

  I really didn’t either, but I felt a familiar feeling come over me, and it was almost comforting. My eyes locked to Jerry as he paused in the doorway, obviously to see if there were any more takers. He made eye contact with me, and I immediately smiled at him. His eyes narrowed lasciviously. He figured he could take advantage of us. I imagined my fist pounding into the soft folds of his fat face, his snotty nose exploding into blood. He would pay for misjudging us.

  “Nobody’s going to blow anybody, and we’re going to meet the band,” I said to Fern through my smile, never taking my eyes away from Jerry’s, linking my arm through hers and stepping towards him.

  I felt her hesitation, but she fell into step beside me and we approached the door.

  “Can I help you?” Jerry asked us, grinning.

  “We’d like to meet the band,” I said, continuing to smile.

  “Oh, would you?” he teased. “Well, there’s a toll.”

  “We aren’t going to pay any toll,” I said. “See, we’re in a band ourselves.”

  “Are you?” he replied, widening his eyes in mock surprise.

  “Yes. We’d like to ask the guys some questions.”

  Jerry’s eyes moved past me, losing interest, obviously seeing if there were any other girls behind us that he could hit up. Apparently there weren’t. “Well, you may as well come on back,” he said, settling his gaze on us once again. “I need a few more back here anyway.”

  He stepped back, and Fern followed me through the
door. It closed behind us, swallowing us inside. We were directly next to the two girls who Jerry had allowed in before us. They still had their arms around each other and were giggling frantically. They sounded like a damn aviary, so fluttery, light, and brainless. Thankfully the two of them still had the presence of mind to give Fern and I dirty looks. Of course.

  “Follow me,” Jerry said and headed up a flight of stairs. The four of us proceeded up behind him. It was dark, and Fern took my hand as we climbed. “This is pretty weird,” she whispered.

  I squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Once we meet the band it’ll be okay. Fuck this Jerry guy.”

  At the top of the stairs, we turned down a hallway and Jerry knocked on a closed door. He paused, and then opened it. Then he stepped backwards and swept into a low bow, obnoxiously motioning for us to walk past him.

  Fern and I followed the two twittering girls into the room.

  “Guys, I’ve brought some ladies to hang out,” Jerry said.

  “This ain’t no place for a lady!” came the reply, followed by a chorus of laughter.

  The room was small, with two leather couches. Between them was a table covered with wine and beer bottles, as well as a half eaten vegetable tray and a messy ashtray. Sitting on the couches were the members of DED. I scanned all their faces, seeing Ed, Sid, Victor, and Chaos, but there was no sign of Balthazar. Chaos and Sid had their shirts off and towels around their necks. The room stank of cigarette smoke and sweat, with the constant club reek of old booze, and a touch of urine. I wrinkled my nose.

  The guys all grinned at us, raising their hands in greeting, which set the two girls off into more gales of laughter.

  “Hi,” I said assertively, stepping around them. “I’m Rachel, this is Fern.”