Mixtape for the End of the World

by Andrew J Brandt

  “For our fourth act tonight, I would like to introduce a rock band called Stealth, made up of Derrick Townsend and AJ Tooley, both sophomores and Dustin Duncan, a junior.” He paused for an introductory applause, and then turned to the band. “Ready when you are, boys.”

  Mr. Greene left the stage, and as the lights dimmed, Derrick looked out to the audience, catching friends and family. He caught a glimpse of Haley, who waved at him with a bright grin on her face, and his parents near the front. His mother had the camcorder in hand, the device strapped to her wrist. Even from the stage, he could see the red LED power light on the front. This performance, no matter how it went, would be forever saved to home video.

  He scanned the room for Rebecca, hoping to see her in the sea of people, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart dropped. Even if things hadn’t worked out between them, he still wanted her to be here.

  Pulling him back from his thoughts, Dustin called out, “Alright, here we go. One, two, three, four.” He beat his drumsticks together to the count, the tempo set for Derrick.

  As he played the opening riff of the Collective Soul song, his guitar echoing through the auditorium, he had never heard anything so loud, so full. The people in the first few rows began cheering immediately, and Derrick stepped on the wah pedal as they hit the verse.

  AJ’s voice rang out in the mix, singing the lyrics in a near spot-on Ed Roland impression, breathy and raspy. The monitors placed in front of them that allowed them to hear their mix helped keep them in time, though they’d played the song so many times in rehearsals that Derrick thought they could do it completely isolated from each other and still hit their cues on mark.

  It was when he hit the guitar solo in the song that his heart swelled, because when he hit the sweeping arpeggios, the crowd went wild with cheers and shouts. The energy felt like an actual rock concert, which made Derrick play more ferociously.

  In that moment, with the auditorium full of people bobbing their heads and moving to the music, with his best friends on stage with him, Derrick knew. No matter what—whether it was in Mount Vernon or far away in the Pacific Northwest, or at some college campus—he wanted to do this for the rest of his life. He wanted to play music, to perform, to write songs and play them in front of huge crowds for as long as he could.

  They finished the song to a raucous round of applause. AJ spoke into the microphone, “Thank you, Mount Vernon! We are Stealth. On drums is Dustin Duncan.” Dustin played a quick round on the toms. “To my left, the best guitarist in the entire world—Derrick Townsend!” To that, more cheers from the crowd.

  Derrick looked out at the audience, finding Haley. She stood on her feet, next to her friends, beaming.

  “And I’m AJ Tooley,” he continued. Looking down to the table of six judges—various members of the school faculty as well as an honorary judge, a local celebrity who had come back to town for this talent show—he said, “We hope to get your first-place votes. This next song is our last, but one we wrote. My best friend Derrick is going to take it from here.”

  AJ nodded at Derrick, and he switched his foot pedals connected between his amplifier and guitar to the new tone. The Telecaster in his hands felt like an extension of his body, like an extra appendage and not something separate.

  The song was a mid-tempo rocker with a chunky riff that Derrick had written after listening to the Achtung Baby tape that AJ had given him at the beginning of the semester. When they hit the bridge of the song, AJ gave Derrick a look. Once they locked eyes, they knew what to do, unspoken yet apparent. When the bridge shifted back to the chorus, with an eight-beat run down the scale, Dustin hit the cymbals while Derrick and AJ jumped into the air simultaneously, both hitting the same note on the down-beat when their feet hit the ground.

  They had played these songs before, in front of other students even, but now they weren’t simply jamming. They were performing.

  The audience’s response to the synchronous jump was absolutely deafening. They concluded the second song to cheers and chants of “Encore! Encore!”

  Derrick’s cheeks hurt from smiling and AJ put his arm around his shoulders. Dustin came up to the other side and they bowed in unison.

  Pulling their equipment off the stage, they went outside to cool off and congratulate each other.

  “Dude, that was amazing,” AJ said, sweat pouring from his brow despite the cold air. “Did you hear that crowd?”

  “Dustin, you hit those beats right on cue. That was the best drumming I’ve ever heard,” Derrick said.

  “When did you guys come up with that jump thing?” Dustin asked. “That was the coolest thing I think I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. That was actual rockstar shit.”

  “We just came up with it. He looked at me and I knew,” Derrick said.

  “Okay, where did you get that badass guitar?” AJ asked.

  “Ben gave it to me,” he said. He told them the entire story of getting jumped by the football team, about Ty smashing his guitar. They stared at him, stunned.

  “That’s it, then,” AJ said. “That’s Ty’s third strike. He’s done for.”

  Derrick leaned against the cold brick of the auditorium building, the sweat on his forehead now cool. He didn’t want to think about Ty or his goons. He was still riding the high from their performance. “I want to do that for the rest of my life,” he said. “I want to be a band forever, making music with you guys. This is a dream come true.”

  His bandmates agreed. He couldn’t imagine things ever getting any better.

  ♪ ♪ ♪

  “And the winner of the 1999 Mount Vernon High School Annual Talent Show is…” Mr. Greene held the sheet of paper in his hand, the winner written on it and then folded before he got on stage.

  The six acts all sat together in those first few rows of the auditorium, each holding their collective breath. Someone leaned into Derrick’s ear and whispered, “It’s totally going to be you guys. You tore the roof off this place, bro.”

  Derrick grinned and whispered a thank you over his shoulder. Mr. Greene let the anticipation hang over the audience for as long as he could and he slowly unfolded the paper.

  He grinned, and leaned into the microphone. “With four first-place votes, Lindsay Gunther, Georgia Reed, Gabriella Cohn and Sarah Swan with their performance of NSync’s ‘Bye Bye Bye’.”

  There was a loud, high pitched squeal of cheers. Derrick sunk into the wooden seat. He felt his heart ripped out in front of the entire school. He sat and watched as the four girls, jumping up and down with excitement, went on stage to accept their award.

  “That should have been us,” AJ said to him, under his breath, his chin resting on his forearms on the chair in front of him.

  Derrick didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

  The dream was over.

  26

  ♪U2 – Until the End of the World♪

  CHRISTMAS CAME AND went, and his bedroom was filled with new guitar equipment. Though initially excited to have a new amplifier, a Vox AC30, and some new effects pedals, Derrick had hardly touched any of it since Christmas morning. It all sat in the corner of his bedroom, mocking him for what could have been. The guitar that Ben gave him resided in its black case, the latches locked.

  He spent nearly the entire break lounging around, playing Goldeneye on the Nintendo and watching MTV. Cassandra had received a car—a blue beater of a Saturn, but a car nonetheless—and it seemed that the only time she was home during the break was to sleep. On New Year’s Eve, he put on his headphones and tried listening to some of the old mixtapes he’d made, but it all sounded stale. Old. Uninspired.

  Or, uninspiring.

  Outside, winter had hit with full force, keeping them inside most days.

  “Why are you so mopey?” Cassandra asked, standing in the doorway to his room. She was applying lipstick and had on a black skirt, looking as if she were getting ready to leave for a party.

  He could have told her any number of things. The fac
t that his band had been robbed of the talent show winnings. That his band hadn’t practiced or played since that night. That their plans of recording a demo tape hadn’t come to fruition. That school was about to start again, and he had maybe played his guitar five times all break.

  That, if he had to be completely honest to himself, he’d never be a rockstar. Just a guy who played guitar.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” she pried. “It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m having a party. The new millennium is happening. You can’t go into 2000 being all sad.”

  “I’m not sad,” he said, his hands behind his head on the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades of his fan spin lazily. “I just don’t feel like partying.”

  “Well, all my friends will be here. It might do you some good to hang out with them. They’ll all be seniors next year. You’d be way cooler hanging out with them than your lame friends,” she said. She smacked her lips together. “Speaking of,” she said, “where are your friends?”

  “Dustin is in Oklahoma, visiting his dad’s family. I haven’t heard from AJ,” he answered.

  “Well, Casey and Tara are coming over at nine. You should come hang out. Watch the ball drop with us.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

  Cassandra shut his bedroom door and he stared at the ceiling in silence. This was the lamest New Year’s Eve ever, and he had no desire to hang out with his sister and her friends.

  Pulling himself from his bed, he went into the hallway and found the cordless phone on its base. He dialed AJ’s number. It rang a few times. Finally, the line clicked and he heard AJ’s mom’s cigarette-frayed voice. “Hello?” she said.

  “Hey Mrs. Tooley. Is AJ home?”

  “He is, but he’s grounded. He failed Spanish for the semester, so he’s not allowed to talk on the phone until school starts.”

  “So, he can’t come to my house for a New Years’ party?” he asked, deflated.

  “I’m afraid not,” she said.

  “Okay. Thanks anyways.” Derrick hung up the phone and placed it back on the base. He felt somewhat relieved that AJ hadn’t been avoiding him or blowing him off altogether. Though any shot he had at having fun tonight was decimated. He wished he had a television in his room so he could watch the ball drop in New York by himself. Something to drown out the silence of his boredom.

  Back in his bedroom, he grabbed his acoustic guitar and played a few chords, humming along with it. It was a melancholy sound, minor chords picked note by note. He leaned against the headboard of his bed and strummed along lazily. It didn’t sound inspired, but it was something.

  From the living room, he could hear girl’s voices, shrill and loud, echoing down the hall. Their parents were at a party with the police department, leaving the house to them tonight. He thought about going into the living room to hang out, grab a slice of pizza and watch the celebration on television with them, but he didn’t want to make it awkward.

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming down the hall and Cassandra knocked on the door before opening it a moment later.

  “Hey, the girls want you to come and play a song for them,” she said.

  “I don’t want to play a song for them,” Derrick said.

  “Please,” she begged. “They think you’re really good, and every party needs a guy with a guitar.”

  “Ugh,” he groaned. “Okay. One song.”

  He felt lame by himself, so he grabbed his guitar and followed Cassandra to the living room. Her friends saw him and perked up, clapping.

  “You were so good at the talent show,” Tara said. She was sitting on the couch, her feet curled up beneath her and she cradled a Pepsi in her hands. Her dark hair was kinked tightly and spilled out over her shoulders.

  “Seriously,” Casey said from the recliner. “You guys got robbed. Lindsey and her friends do the same thing every year, that whole lip sync dance routine. They just do a different song. You guys had actual talent.”

  “Thanks,” Derrick said. He rested his forearm on the body of the guitar. “I only play for tips now, so get your dollar bills ready.”

  Both girls laughed and Cassandra rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, for real, what do you want to hear?” he asked, fiddling with the tuning keys on the headstock.

  “Anything,” Casey said. “Something upbeat.”

  Derrick began strumming a few chords and sang along. “It’s the end of the world as we know it,” he started, and the girls burst out laughing.

  “That’s not really going to happen though, is it?” Tara asked, her mood quickly serious.

  “No,” Cassandra said, her response irritated. “It’s just a ploy to get people to buy more stuff. Of course the computers aren’t going to crash.”

  But, the idea still held in Derrick’s mind. What if this is the end?

  Derrick told the girls to have a good time, and that he was going up on the roof.

  “Oooh,” Tara said, “let us know if you can see the fireworks from up there, and we’ll come with you.”

  “Alright,” Derrick said, standing from the couch, though he had no intentions of doing so. If this was it, the last night before the world went to hell, he’d spend those last moments alone.

  In his bedroom, he deposited his guitar, threw on a jacket and stuffed his Walkman in one of the pockets. A few seconds later, he was outside in the cold winter night, scaling the side of the house from the storage shed and climbing up onto the spot on the roof where he normally sat to listen to music.

  As he pulled himself up to the shingles, he froze. Haley was already there.

  “Hey,” she said, turning to him. “I was hoping you’d come up here soon.”

  “How long have you been up here?” Derrick asked, still frozen in place.

  “Not long. My mom and dad are fighting, and this is the only place I could think of that I could find some solace,” she said. She had a blanket pulled across her shoulders, and she motioned for Derrick to join her. “Why aren’t you at some party or something?”

  “My sister has some friends over, downstairs. I don’t know. I don’t feel like partying,” he answered. He sat next to her as she opened the blanket, letting it envelop him with her. It was already warm.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “About the talent show. You guys are really good.”

  “Were.”

  “What?”

  “Were good. I don’t think we’re a band anymore,” he said.

  “Why not?” Haley asked.

  “Just,” he paused. “Burned out.”

  “Well, don’t stop playing music. I could see the joy on your face when you were on that stage. It made me jealous,” she said.

  “Jealous?” Derrick gave her a puzzled look.

  “Yeah. I don’t know anything that gives me that kind of happiness. I have lived my entire life trying to make my parents happy, doing the things they want me to do. Follow the rules, be involved, do extracurricular stuff. And where has that got me?” Haley sighed. “Now, my parents are divorcing and I’m going to a new school and I just wish I had something like that. I wish I had something that made me that happy.”

  “Music does that for me. It helps me forget all the bad things around me. I can put on a Pearl Jam or a U2 album and everything just dissolves.”

  “I never told you, but do you remember that one time we were up here? You gave me that tape. I was being a jerk to you that night, but I listen to that tape all the time,” she said.

  “Really?” He had assumed that she just shoved it in some errant desk drawer, out of sight. Especially after she and Ty had gotten back together.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I have it in my stereo in my room. Whenever my parents start going at it and yelling at each other, I turn it on. It’s comforting, you know? It helps drown out all the bad stuff.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said.

  “I heard what Ty did to you. To your guitar.”

  “It’s okay,” he said
.

  “No it’s not. And I should have listened to you a long time ago. I should have seen what a jerk he is. I have just held hope that he was still the good guy I knew back in middle school. But he’s changed. He’s awful. Not like you.” Her eyes were sad, yet glinting with something that Derrick couldn’t quite comprehend. “You’re perfect,” she said.

  She looked at him, and he turned his face toward hers, their eyes and lips dangerously close. A stream of light off in the distance, a few blocks away, shot into the night sky. It was then followed by an explosion of color and a boom.

  Haley turned her face away from his and whispered a silent wow.

  Derrick slid his hand and felt Haley’s fingers interlace with his. It filled him with the same kind of explosion, a bloom of light and color in his whole body.

  “It’s almost midnight,” she said.

  “Y2K,” he nodded.

  “Do you think?” she started.

  “I don’t know,” he said. He knew what she meant though. If this was the end of the world. If, in a few moments, life as they knew it would be over. “But if it is, this is exactly where I want to be.”

  “Me too.”

  With his free hand, he produced his Walkman and headphones. He pushed play on the device and sound flowed from the earpieces. Leaning close to each other, they held the speakers between them, listening to Bono’s voice from the tape as the fireworks shot off in the distance, each one illuminating the dark sky in different colors.

  From the houses below, they could hear a collective countdown.

  “Five!”

  Another firework erupted above them, blossoming in red and purple.

  “Four!”

  Derrick turned his face to Haley’s. Her eyes were bright, the fireworks above them reflecting in her green irises, creating sparkles in the reflection.

  “Three!”

  She leaned in to him, her hand on the nape of his neck, the sensation sending a tingle down his spine.

  “Two!”

  He tilted his head and inched his face closer to hers.