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“Alright rockers, who is ready for the speed round?” He throws both hands in the air and the crowd goes wild. Trip shifts nervously beside me, her hand still in mine. I look at our other teammates and see Cody fighting a smile while Stella attempts to intimidate the opponents with her miniature stature. Shoulders boxed out, head held high, the girl barely hits 5’2 in those heels yet stares down our opponents as if she’s LeBron James going in for a dunk.
“I am going to read out three questions. The team that answers two correct wins. Everyone understand?” Everyone nods except Stella, who beats her fists against her chest warrior style. I bite back a laugh as the guy opposite her flinches. Guess he wasn’t expecting to go up against a mini-King Kong.
“Alright the first question is an easy one… Where was punk rock invented?”
“NEW YORK CITY!” The girl wearing fishnet stockings yells out the answer before I have time to process the question being asked.
“And a point goes to the Punk Ponies! Lavishing Leather Ladies, you better be careful. This next one could keep you in the game or knock you out.” Leaning forward, I put all my focus on the MC’s next words.
“Who is the father of punk rock?” Silence falls upon both teams as brain power kicks into overdrive. Flipping through my storage of useless information, I search for anything relating to rock. Hold on, back in high school we had to watch a documentary about…
“I got it! Joey Ramone.” The Axl impersonator nods in approval and Stella runs over to give me a high five. A grin the size of Mount Everest lights up my face, and Trip gives my hand a squeeze. There’s nothing like the rush of competition.
“And a point for the Lavishing Leather Ladies! Well done, young man.” Choosing to overlook the fact this guy can’t be more than two years older than me; I take the compliment. “Both teams are at one point with one question left. Are we ready to find a champion?” The bar erupts into cheers, drunk rockers wholly invested in our performance.
“Alright, last question…” I hold my breath and feel Trip do the same. “What defines punk rock?” My mind goes blank. Are angry teenagers a definition?
“Punk rock is often described as offensive expressions of alienation and social discomfort.” The crowd goes nuts, taking me a moment to register who the response came from. The question is answered when Stella runs over and wraps her roommate in a ginormous hug.
I look over at the duo in astonishment, partly for the mauling Trip is currently undertaking, but mostly for her feat of public speaking. Just a few weeks ago I was ushering Trip away from the chaos of rush week to comfort her, and now she’s bringing our team to victory in front of hundreds of people.
Meeting my eyes over Stella’s bouncing shoulders, Trip gives me a heart-stopping smile and mouths,any version I want to be.
Chapter 13
Lou
If someone told me I would be describing the definition of punk rock in a packed bar, standing in front of a stage while holding hands with a smoldering Billie Joe Armstrong; I would have laughed until I died. That is something social butterflies do, not social outcasts. Yet, here I am, using my personal connection with alienation and social discomfort to successfully conquer punk trivia.
“Folks, we have a winner! Let’s hear it for the Lavishing Leather Ladies!” The bar breaks into applause once more and we head back to our table. The entire walk back, I find myself congratulated by eyeliner-wearing strangers. Feeling my cheeks heat from all the attention, I duck my head until we get back to the confines of our table. My actions may be a far cry from the invisible girl back in high school, but my internal discomfort appears to be the same.
“You did really well back there, Trip.” Cody’s comforting voice washes over me as we return to our seats.
“Well? She was fucking amazing.” The outburst comes from Stella, who hasn’t stopped vibrating since we were announced the winners.
Her comment makes me laugh, “Whoever scored the winning point was bound to be ranked amazing in Stella’s books.” Cody nods his head in agreement while Stella gasps in mock outrage.
“Winning isn’teverything. It just makes everythingbetter.” Shaking my head in amusement, I watch as Stella and Cody fall into a debate over who is the worse loser.
“She’s right, you know,” The whisper breathes into my ear, sending chills down my spine.
“Winning makes everything better?” I playfully whisper back, our proximity close enough that I can smell the minty scent of Wes’ breath.
Wes laughs, the husky sound resonating through my skin. “I can’t argue with that, but I meant the other one. You were fucking amazing back there.” The words send a rush of pleasure through me, bringing a deeper flush to my cheeks. Between the hand holding, the compliments, and the getup Wes is wearing tonight; I am at a complete disadvantage.
“You weren’t so bad yourself.” When Wes pulled out the answer for the second question, I was unbelievably shocked. He didn’t strike me as a head banger type of guy, but maybe I misjudged him. That certainly seems to be the case for most things involving Wes.
He leans back in his seat, throwing me a wink. “Anything to impress the prettiest girl in the room.” I feel my grin grow wider.
“It was a complete guess, wasn’t it?” Narrowing his beautiful eyes, Wes responds.
“I don’t appreciate the assumption. We have already secured my nerd status, what reason do you have to doubt me?” I continue to smirk, waiting for the inevitable. About thirty seconds goes by until he gives in.
“Fine. I only remembered someone’s name being close to Ramen. The fact Ramone ended up being punk rock may or may not have been luck on my part.” I raise my fist in triumph. “Hey, it wasn’t acompleteguess. My memory simply stored the important part.”
“Like someone being named after cheap noodles.”
“Exactly.” We smile at each other, the buzzing bar fading into the background. Suddenly all I can see are sparkling emeralds, midnight-coloured spikes, and a loose red tie that looks like an invitation to grad a hold of.
