Tell Me What You Hate About Me

8: The Fellowship

With Jack, Dominic, and Sierra and I gathered around the kitchen table for one, Dr. Reed put the coin in the middle of the surface and looked up at the rest of us.

I had already gotten a few too many people involved, so all the information she knew had to stay between the five of us. Any more was too risky, and I still didn't entirely trust everyone at the table.

"So how was Trailfest?" Sierra asked.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Was that really her focus right now?

"It was so overrated. It was just a bunch of old rich people eating caviar or whatever and complaining that we were too loud. We just gave up after a couple of hours. Who the hell wouldn't like our acoustic version of Fat Bottomed Girls?" Jack said.

"You guys do Queen covers? That's cool," Sierra said.

Dr. Reed laughed. "That's Trailfest for you. They just leave me off the guest list at this point."

Jack shook his head. "I don't blame you at all. That was a very different crowd than what I'm used to."

Enough small talk. "Can we talk about the coin now?" I asked.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "So you don't even care about how my gig went?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I don't right now. Maybe later."

"Fine," Jack said and turned to Dr. Reed. "Can we please make this conversation all about Lindsay now? It's been a full three minutes since someone mentioned her coin."

Dominic laughed.

"Lindsay, relax a little. This isn't the classroom," Dr. Reed said.

So she clearly didn't know what the hell was the deal with the coin, then. And she was also blissfully unaware of the fact that classes really didn't put any stress on me. Only this coin had that power.

I laughed along anyway. Jack was already mad at me, and I couldn't afford to lose my one friend.

With all the uncertainty in the room, I picked up the main source of it all as Jack continued with how rude the people were at Trailfest. Was the gold worth something at least? There really wasn't much weight to the coin.

"They didn't even care that we were there for the most part until we played a song they didn't like," he said.

Wasn't that the point of the gig, though? To be background music for the rich people celebrating the Oregon Trail with food the settlers never would have dreamed of?

"We should have just stuck with the original gig we had scheduled. Rich people suck," he continued.

No argument from me there.

"From what Lindsay has told me, they just don't understand your style," Sierra said.

Jack looked down at the floor. "Thanks, but we weren't even really ourselves on that stage. We dialed everything down for them, and they still didn't like us."

How would he ever survive without the approval of a very small section of society?

I looked over at Dominic, and he was on his phone. At least I wasn't the only one who remembered why we were all in Dr. Reed's House of Bronze Age Artifacts.

"Can I ask a question that is somewhat related to the coin?" I asked.

"Seriously, Lindsay?" Jack said. "I wasn't done talking about Trailfest yet."

"We all agree that your band deserves a lot more recognition than you get. You know I've been saying that since I met you. That hasn't changed, but I have another concern right now. What's so difficult to understand about that?"