Music. It’s the one thing keeping me grounded. I know. A lot of people wonder how you can possibly think when you are listening to songs with lyrics. Songs that make you think and feel. I don’t know. But I can. Plus, I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember.

School isn’t that big of a deal for me. I can do assignments in my sleep, not because I’m smart. No. That’d be the easiest of answers. No. There’s a reason I can finish them lightning quick, and no. Before you ask, let me answer you: I’m not cheating. Well. But in this case, cheating is a relative answer. But is it cheating if I have figured out how the questions are designed to be answered? Textbooks make it easy, especially when they practically give you the answer. And if you think I’m telling you how I figured that out, you are sadly mistaken.

“Hello?”

“Megan, are you listening to 105? It’s so good!” Music blaring through my phone was a pretty good indicator that Megan’s parents weren’t home. Her Dad was a lawyer, something about real estate law. But her Mom sold houses. No. Not houses. She sold ‘homes’ and told me as often as possible before Megan and I wandered off to the basement to watch MTV or up to her room to listen to the radio. And if both her parents were home? Then, the radio had to be kept at a ‘reasonable’ volume. Her Dad hated her music. I think he hated me more because my Daddy was an automotive mechanic. Daddy wasn’t just an automotive mechanic; Mack was the best private shop mechanic in the area. Daddy had more customers than he knew what to do with, with a waiting list backing him up for at least a month. Friends of our family told me that Mack, Daddy, could listen to any car and know exactly what it needed. 9 times out of 10, he was right. He was totally with my car, that’s for sure.

“No. I’m not. I’m playing a mix tape Danny made me.” My finger was turning purple after winding the cord around it. Daddy bought me a twenty-foot telephone cord so he didn’t have to keep replacing it. Thankfully, Kim didn’t live that far from me, so the call was local and not long-distance.

“Gag me, Megs. That’s not music. It’s noise.” Kim hated Danny’s music, especially the heavy guitar sounds of Guns-N-Roses, Poison, AC/DC, or Mötley Crüe. In Kim’s opinion, scratching your nails down a chalkboard was preferable to any of his music. Kim also didn’t like his long hair, but in Kim’s opinion, any guy that didn’t look like Billy Idol, short, spikey blonde hair, wasn’t a real dude. She liked guys with short hair, stylish clothes, and well-chosen footwear and could dance. She learned that most guys dressing like that weren’t into her – just her stylish clothing. Many of her ‘guy’ friends frequently ‘borrowed’ her clothes. Then she’d blame her missing outfits on me instead of Kyle, Matthew, and Jonathan.  

“Actually, Kim, it’s not all that bad. Like, some of the lyrics are killer.” Guns-N-Roses had a great song, ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’ And Axle Rose had a killer voice. But that’s not how Kim saw it. In her mind, anyone not actually singing was screaming. Like AC/DC and Mötley Crüe, even though Vince Neil was quite a vocalist.

“I don’t know what you see in him, anyways. Like, he’s always working. When do you ever see each other?”

“He’s not always working,” I said, popping my gum. Lying on the floor, I stared up at the posters around my room, three of which were your atypical hot guy models, shirts off, standing in a brooding pose. I also had the assorted music posters, which included Prince, Michael Jackson, George Michael, David Bowie, and Queen. I had a Bengals poster, one of those from a music magazine, folded over six times. And what teen girl wouldn’t have Paula Abdul. She was the hot, new thing. Daddy never questioned my choice in posters, not with several Snap On Tools calendars showing off hot, scantly clad women. The way I hear Daddy’s family talk about her? Heather, Mom, was a wonderful woman, a supportive wife, and the best Mom. I remember very little about her. Like I can feel bits and pieces of her. Like feelings. Not true memories. My Daddy’s brothers, Jay and Miguel, said she wasn’t one to suffer fools – their words, not mine. She didn’t like the calendar on the wall. Daddy and her had words. He lost the argument. That’s what Miguel says, but he was allowed to keep the calendars up. Daddy never looked at the calendar other than to see his next job. He kept them up ever since. Jay says it’s so Mack can remember her. Miguel says he’s too stubborn to take them down. “I’m going to see him tomorrow. He’s taking me to see Lethal Weapon.”

“Ohmygod! Mel Gibson is SO HOT!” I laughed an awkward laugh, and Kim noticed. “You LIKE Mel Gibson? Ha! That’s so hilarious!”

I could feel the blood rushing to my face. “Why? What’s so funny about that?”

“Mel Gibson, Megs? You have a boyfriend, and you’re geeking out over a dude in his thirties?” She laughed.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, Kimberly!” I shouted.

“Well, you SUCK!” Click! The line went dead, and I threw my phone across the room. Then, just to make sure Kim got the point, I unplugged the line. I was way mad at her. Well. I thought I was. Then I remembered Danny would call me before work at 5 p.m. I plugged it in, and I heard Kim screaming. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“Kim? Hey there, Kimmy? You okay?” I repeated three times. Kim stopped crying long enough to sort of grunt yes. “Mom? Or Dad this time?”

Kim sniffled. “Dad. He told me it was too loud and I needed to turn it down before it melted the last of my brain cells. He basically told me I was stupid!” Kim burst into tears again.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, Kimmy. Okay?”

“Mhmm,” Kim answered.