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2
-Avery
Angel completely ignored me for the millionth time.
It's killing me. And it doesn't matter.
I waited for her to show up in that corridor. For hours and hours. You know, it takes a lot of fucking effort to ignore someone who's in front of your face.
But Angel did it.
Once I reach the end of the hallway, instead of turning like I planned, I flip back around and head for the door that's now closing. There's a small window in the top-center of the door. I use it to steal a peek inside. There are four people around a table. Angel and three suits: the idiot lawyer, a lady with really bad hair, and a tall skinny guy.
Angel turns toward the door and I shrink under the window. I've been hoping to grab her at just the right moment; a second when she isn't expecting me. Maybe she'll falter and let herself notice me, since she's hell-bent on acting like I don't exist. Right now, though she's expecting me to be hovering.
It doesn't matter. Maybe if I keep saying it, I'll start to believe it.
I don't know why everyone is so hell-bent on getting Angels' side of the story. She never knew anything. If she'd had a damned clue we wouldn't have ended up in prison. Then again, I was the reason she didn't know anything. I went out of my way to ensure that she didn't.
From time to time, when I had to give her the bald-faced lie she needed to cope, I'd wonder if she suspected. But after everything came down and she completely withdrew from the world, then I knew for sure: she never had a clue.
Which made me really fucking sad. Angry too, because I knew everything without anybody having to lay it out for me.
Angel never was one to pick up on subtlety, though. Matter of fact, she's gifted in the art of ignoring anything she doesn't like. Like me.
No, she always had to have shit spelled out to her; unless the shits name was Jake. He was her everything-greatest strength and biggest weakness. There were never any walls where Jake was concerned.
I think he was our biggest problem. If she'd never met Jake, none of it would have happened.
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3
-Angel
Carlisle was situated near the Arizona/New Mexico border-a stone's throw from Zuni Indian territory. In and of itself, the town was no more than a speck. Nothing special, except that it was also home to the greatest progressive rock band the world has never heard of. It was the womb that grew and gave birth to Analog Controller.
My all-time favorite band. They began as three high school kids who all had more musical experience than most people twice their age. They were Jake Haddon, Maxwell Sims, and Andrew Greene: the weirdo's who stayed at home to practice instead of playing outside, who read comics and poetry instead of playing video games. But when they got into high school, suddenly they were cool because other kids found out what they could do.
Before Jake was mine, he was their singer and he had magic. Being around him was like having my own, personal Houdini for those first two years; he was always disappearing and resurfacing months later. His gifts as a leading man spoke a simple truth that changed inanimate objects. His voice brought things to life. He was a living, breathing splendor. Beauty incarnate, from the inside out. And Jake was smart. He was a poet and a song bird. He could make you feel things. He was much more than my boyfriend; a gregarious rock star, an undiscovered genius by the age of eighteen.
Analog Controller had played at a house party I attended over the summer before I started high school and I would like to say that I loved the band from that moment, but I didn't. Their instruments took up most of the living room-that's what I remember, because I tripped on a power strip, and hit my hip on a speaker. I don't remember whose house it was, but someone told me that they couldn't play in the garage because there was one shitty neighbor who would call the cops. I remember that I liked the music, though I wasn't really capable of following, what with all the fuzzy naval wine coolers pumping through me.
When we first started talking, it was about two years before we got together. I was barely fifteen. Jake was nearly four years older than me, so he had already graduated by that time. The day me and Jake officially met was at Joes Pizza Pub.
Avery was my best friend at that time. We were there hanging out after school. She was treating me to a slice of my favorite cheese pizza because I'd had a really bad day. In high school, nearly every day was like that.
The bad started with necessity. Me, rushing to the bathroom, intending to pee and make my bus before it left without me. But when I clambered through the heavy swinging door, Samantha Marris was there. She'd made it seem like running into me was the highlight of her day. It probably was. Long story short: I ended up doubled-over in the furthest stall, trying to figure out how the waist of my pants was able to sustain my weight without tearing. Suddenly she dropped me. I turned back to find Avery with her fists in Samantha's hair. It was a blur of shoving and scratching for a few seconds, until Avery got a good hook into Samantha's gut.
We both missed the bus that day and on the long walk home, we decided to stop at Joes for a slice. In the middle of splitting a second wedge of greasy triple cheese, we saw this really cute guy; tall, baby-faced and a little dirty-looking but in a good way. He was hauling in pieces of a drum set. We watched as he stacked them in a far corner at the back of the restaurant. And kept staring, sipping rootbeer, and asking Joe Junior-the owner's son-what was going on.
Joe didn't answer. He had his eyes turned up at a television set mounted on a high bracket behind the counter. He was saying, "Come on. Come on, come on, baby," ending with a disappointed sigh. His answer came by way of a piece of paper. A flyer he slapped down onto the ring stained counter in front of us. The plain white sheet decked in black marker spelled out, Joes Pizza Pub- live music every Friday night!
"Every Friday?" I squealed. Music was always a big part of my life. It was like therapy-the notes always helped clear my head.
"So cool." Avery's green eyes sparkled.
Joe just nodded at our enthusiasm, as if it was old news. And, since Avery and I had nothing better to do, we stayed to watch. The foster family I was with at the time didn't care what I did, as long as I kept my room clean and never asked for anything.
