BabyGirl69: *cry laughing emoji*
SkyIsFalling: I wont
AllThatDiaz: u 2 lil freshman
BabyGirl69: I kno wut tribbing is lmfao
FightFuckFinnegan: yeah u do *eggplant emoji*
SkyIsFalling: gg ill dm l8r
DLine32: bye
[SkyIsFalling has left the chat]
Even though I’m off grounding, I’m not sure my mom would allow me to go out two nights in a row, so I tell her I’m working and let her drop me off at the mall. Once we’re sure she’s gone, I text Lindsey, and she swings by to pick me up on her way to the show.
“Sorry about the screen name thing,” I say as soon as I slide into her Corvette. “I wasn’t thinking about you being in mourning.”
“It’s okay,” she says magnanimously. “I know you had it before everything happened. It’s just, people will probably think you’re sad because of what’s going on with my family. And how would it look if you’re Sad Sky and I’m not Sad Lindsey?”
“I didn’t even think of that,” I say. “I would never try to make you look bad.”
“Thanks for changing it,” she says with her sweetest smile. “You’re a good friend, Sky.”
I glow all the way to the show.
On the way, Lindsey tells me about the place we’re going—a local dive called Vinyl Destination. A record store occupies the front of the building, and the back houses the only venuearound that caters to the under-age crowd. No drinking, no smoking, and plenty of unsigned, underground, and local bands, along with a few washed-up one hit wonders from the nineties. It sounds like a place Dad would have loved, straight edge meets cutting edge.
The thought makes me realize how long it’s been since I missed him. Lindsey’s grief is new, but mine is fading. Maybe it was past time for a new screen name. She certainly has more reason to be blue than I do.
As soon as we walk into the dimly lit, high-ceilinged place that resembles an empty shop or warehouse more than a bar, Lindsey says she’s going to find Chase and hurries off, leaving me standing there with the creepy lurkers who go to underage shows to scope the crowd for minors.
Thankfully, after only a minute, Daria rushes over. She looks like a flower in a summery, poppy-red dress that shows off her warm complexion. She strikes a pose and bounces her big curls with her hands, making a kissy face at me. “How do I look?”
“So amazing it’s not fair to the rest of humanity,” I assure her.
“You’re so silly, I love you!” She throws her arms around me with an abandonment I recognize as intoxication.
I laugh and untangle her arms. “And you’re so drunk.”
“I had to take matters into my own hands,” she says. “What kind of club doesn’t sell alcohol, anyway?”
“The kind that lets people our age in?”
“Whatevs. I can totally score drinks at any bar. I’m very convincing. And if I fail, the twins never do,” she says, squeezing her breasts together to maximize cleavage. One more reason to die of jealousy.
“You are dangerous.”
“And you…” She scrutinizes my jeans andLess Than Jaketee, and it’s all I can do not to squirm under her inspection. Inormally dress up to match the girls in our group, but I figured for a concert, my old style was more fitting. Guess not.
“Red lipstick,” she announces, rummaging through her clutch. She produces a tube and hands it to me, then holds up a tiny compact mirror while I self-consciously apply it.
“Sohot,” she gushes. “Todd will weep when he sees your fine ass. Chase too.”
She drops a wink, and I feel myself turning red. Thankfully it’s dim inside the place, and no one would notice me with Daria beside me anyway. There are only a few dozen people milling around, most of them familiar faces from FHS.
“They’re almost done with sound check,” Daria squeals, grabbing my arm. “I’m going to go find Colin. Maybe give him a good luck kiss.” She makes a kissy face at me again, then turns and skips away, seemingly oblivious to the heads turning her way as she goes.
