Lucas must be around six feet tall, judging by how high he left the stand. “Hello, my name is Johnny Cash.” I give my best Johnny Cash impression. That makes a few people stifle a giggle. “Wow, tough crowd.” I scratch my temple. “I know what song I said I would play, and I will. After this...”
I strum the first chord heavily and then back off a bit. My voice is faint when I begin to play “Rusty Cage” in Johnny Cash’s rendition, but by the second verse, I’ve found my confidence, and my tone rises. Once I begin to sing, the shock is apparent on the crowds’ faces. That is, except Dar. She’s known me long enough to expect the unexpected. My voice is in the middle soprano range, similar to Joan Jett. The shock written all over Lucas’ face makes this moment perfect and is almost worth him stealing my phone. At the end of the song, I let the music run its course in my veins. Letting all my pain emit through every last sound the guitar strings offer, I close my eyes and strum the last few bars of the song forcefully. I silently sit with my eyes closed for a moment, pulling back all the pain I released. When I open my eyes, the crowd has gotten bigger and is practically standing on top of one another, their faces unreadable. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. Just as I prepare to start the song I originally promised them, they explode into a mixture of squeals and whistles. The sound level they reach actually surprises me; they are even louder than they were after Lucas performed.
“Well, not so tough after all. Thank you all. For those of you who have no idea what song that was, you should be ashamed of yourselves.” I suppress a laugh, and my voice sounds like I’m scolding a child. I allow myself a quick glance at Dar, but I avoid Lucas. I finally feel calm, and I’m not going to chance it by looking at him. “Not really, that was my version of ‘Rusty Cage’ by Johnny Cash.”
A smile creeps across my face, and I start to play “Snuff”. I can sing this song with ease. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and I have every note memorized. Playing comes as my own personal anti-depressant. When things would go wrong as a child, I would lock myself in my room for hours and play. Many times, I played through the tears, letting my torment flow away with the resonance of the sounds.
Just as I finish the song, my right eye betrays me. A trickle of wet slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, hoping no one noticed. I hate to cry in front of people. It shows weakness, something I don’t want people to think of me as. Even if Mom wasn’t the best in the world and is nonexistent at the moment, she’s still my mother. I grasp the neck of the guitar and remove the strap. After shaking a few hands and meeting the crowd, I reach the booth where I’d left Dar and Lucas, but Dar is gone. “Where is she?” I swear that girl could get into trouble with a saint.
“Relax, Cricket. She went out to the car to get her cell phone. I don’t know what it is about you two always losing your phones. Before you even say it, I really didn’t steal her phone. I promise,” he says with so much sincerity I believe him. “You were amazing. Absolutely fucking incredible! I’m glad I didn’t have to follow you. Never mind, I’d follow you anytime. You have a nice ass.” He stretches out his neck, pretending to check out my ass.
By the way I’m standing, he can’t see my backside, but blood pools in my cheeks, thinking of him checking out anything of mine. “You know, most women would prefer to be asked out on a date. Most would prefer you not to be so overbearing. That being said, I held up my end of the deal. Now, give me my phone,” I nervously rant, and I hold my hand directly in front of Lucas’ face and tap my foot.
He removes my phone from his pocket and holds it out to me. I reach for it, and he yanks me toward him. I’m so close I can feel his breath on my mouth. “You know,
I strum the first chord heavily and then back off a bit. My voice is faint when I begin to play “Rusty Cage” in Johnny Cash’s rendition, but by the second verse, I’ve found my confidence, and my tone rises. Once I begin to sing, the shock is apparent on the crowds’ faces. That is, except Dar. She’s known me long enough to expect the unexpected. My voice is in the middle soprano range, similar to Joan Jett. The shock written all over Lucas’ face makes this moment perfect and is almost worth him stealing my phone. At the end of the song, I let the music run its course in my veins. Letting all my pain emit through every last sound the guitar strings offer, I close my eyes and strum the last few bars of the song forcefully. I silently sit with my eyes closed for a moment, pulling back all the pain I released. When I open my eyes, the crowd has gotten bigger and is practically standing on top of one another, their faces unreadable. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. Just as I prepare to start the song I originally promised them, they explode into a mixture of squeals and whistles. The sound level they reach actually surprises me; they are even louder than they were after Lucas performed.
“Well, not so tough after all. Thank you all. For those of you who have no idea what song that was, you should be ashamed of yourselves.” I suppress a laugh, and my voice sounds like I’m scolding a child. I allow myself a quick glance at Dar, but I avoid Lucas. I finally feel calm, and I’m not going to chance it by looking at him. “Not really, that was my version of ‘Rusty Cage’ by Johnny Cash.”
A smile creeps across my face, and I start to play “Snuff”. I can sing this song with ease. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and I have every note memorized. Playing comes as my own personal anti-depressant. When things would go wrong as a child, I would lock myself in my room for hours and play. Many times, I played through the tears, letting my torment flow away with the resonance of the sounds.
Just as I finish the song, my right eye betrays me. A trickle of wet slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, hoping no one noticed. I hate to cry in front of people. It shows weakness, something I don’t want people to think of me as. Even if Mom wasn’t the best in the world and is nonexistent at the moment, she’s still my mother. I grasp the neck of the guitar and remove the strap. After shaking a few hands and meeting the crowd, I reach the booth where I’d left Dar and Lucas, but Dar is gone. “Where is she?” I swear that girl could get into trouble with a saint.
“Relax, Cricket. She went out to the car to get her cell phone. I don’t know what it is about you two always losing your phones. Before you even say it, I really didn’t steal her phone. I promise,” he says with so much sincerity I believe him. “You were amazing. Absolutely fucking incredible! I’m glad I didn’t have to follow you. Never mind, I’d follow you anytime. You have a nice ass.” He stretches out his neck, pretending to check out my ass.
By the way I’m standing, he can’t see my backside, but blood pools in my cheeks, thinking of him checking out anything of mine. “You know, most women would prefer to be asked out on a date. Most would prefer you not to be so overbearing. That being said, I held up my end of the deal. Now, give me my phone,” I nervously rant, and I hold my hand directly in front of Lucas’ face and tap my foot.
He removes my phone from his pocket and holds it out to me. I reach for it, and he yanks me toward him. I’m so close I can feel his breath on my mouth. “You know,
Similar Books
