Love to Hate You

Chapter Fourteen

Getting ready for my last gig today feels just like I’m getting ready for my first. I pull on faded, distressed shorts, throw on a loose-fitting white and black tank top, and lace up my faded black converse.  I smudge eyeliner around my eyes and then apply a heavy amount of lip-gloss. Lastly, I tie my hair out of my face. I’ve been noticing that my hair is starting to lose the cherry red color I’d dyed it to and has been slowly returning to it’s original auburn state. I’ve been letting it. In the past it represented my rebellion, but now it represents someone who isn’t me, a person I never wanted to become.

With one final look in the bathroom mirror, I leave to begin the short walk to the Lunch Box. My guitar pick necklace, now on backwards to show the bolded words KARMA, bounces off my chest as I jog down the stairs. The lyrics of all of the songs I will be singing play in a loop in my head and my heart seems to beat in rhythm to them. My pulse beats in my ears, drowning out all sound. It’s sort of like tunnel vision. I can only see my destination, the thing that I want and ignore everything else as I walk down the sidewalk, counting the blocks it takes to get to the Lunch Box.

Kris called me a couple of minutes before I left to tell me that Justin is there for lunch, that so far things are going as planned. This is it. This is the end. After this I can say goodbye to Justin Knight, goodbye to the Lunch Box, and goodbye to the Heartbreakers. Well, I can sort of say goodbye to Justin Knight. Senior year is going to be rough, it’s going to be painful, but I’m confident that with Sean at my side I will be okay. After all, once high school is over I will never see him again.

Finally, the Lunch Box appears around the corner and a nervous flutter fills my stomach and sends shivers up my spine.

Let’s finish this.

With determined steps, I walk with my head held high and my chest out, proudly displaying the bolded letters that spell out the end of all of this. Karma.

I pull the door open, barely hearing the jingling of the bells over the blood rushing in my ears. My eyes sweep over the café quickly, not seeing Justin at all. My lips tighten into a thin line and my teeth grind. No matter. The show must go on. The café is rather full with lunch hour anyway, so Karma’s gig won’t be wasted. I let my eyes scan the room one final time and then stride right up to the empty stage, seeing the other boys stand up from their places at the tables and follow me up out of the corner of my eyes.

When I’m up in front of the microphone and the boys are settling themselves I get a chance to look out at the people here. The energy at this time of day is different. It’s casual. People sit at tables with food in front of them, looking interestedly up at the stage, waiting. It’s a lot of young people, some I recognize from Heartbreaker gigs. They look especially curious, leaning forward to look around the room, presumably looking for Justin and Alex. I reach forward and flick the mic on, my eyes still trained on the café spectators. There’s movement in the back corner and someone stands up. When I move my eyes to see who it is I recognize Justin. His brows are furrowed, his face pinched, and he’s staring up at us—up at me, challenging.

I take a deep breath and avert my eyes, smiling at the people in the café.

“Good afternoon everyone,” I say shakily. I’ve never opened a gig up before and for some reason this first time feels more nerve-wracking than it should.  “I know some of you recognize us from the Heartbreakers, and yes, we used to be a part of the band—but not today, not anymore. I know that Justin posted a note to all of you about me getting kicked out and yes, it’s true. I was kicked out. But, I have a story that I’d like to tell you. So, here’s to the heartbreakers. Here’s to you, Justin.”

I rock the mic back and then begin singing into it, my voice ringing in the silent room. My eyes travel back over to Justin, watching him as he stands in disbelief at the back of the room.