(NOT fan fiction!) Kurt Cobain and Tally Fisk

Chapter Three

By the time school finally lets out for the day, for the year, I've convinced myself I do not, under any circumstances, want my yearbook back

My distinguished male peers are shouting playful jeers and punching each other. Half the girls are crying and half of those are only pretending to cry as they promise to keep in touch like they're going to be on different continents for the rest of their lives.

With one last glance at the inside of my empty locker I turn and make a break for the parking lot and I'm one of the first ones out since I have no reason to linger and say goodbye to anyone.

I shove the key into the ignition of my beat-up Honda Civic and swallow the nerves that, for some reason, always precede the action of starting the car. Because I'm messed up in the head, I always have this tiny flash of fear that I'm about to be in some sort of fiery car crash. The feeling always vanishes as soon as I start driving.

I stop at the grocery store for a twelve-pack of cream soda because I'm a real man and that's what I drink. As I'm walking out, I notice the sign that says NOW HIRING SUMMER HELP.

I want to apply. I want to have my own money, not just my allowance like a twelve-year-old. But I've never been called back after turning in an application. Last summer alone I applied to ten places that were known to hire teenagers. During the first half of this school year I applied to half a dozen more. I guess my invisibility extends to job applications.

Fortunately, my parents told me to stop worrying about it. They told me school was my job and I should focus on my grades. Unfortunately, I know they were just trying to make me feel like less of a loser.

More than money, I just want to talk to people. Even if it's just to say, "Did you find everything you needed today?" Even if it's just to say, "Thank you; have a nice day." I'm so tired of being alone when I'm not at school.

When I get home, my mom's still at work. I shove my cream soda into the mini fridge in my room and flop down on my bed. School's out for the summer and I don't feel happiness or relief or whatever I'm supposed to feel.

It's like when the power goes out in the middle of the day and you just freeze for a couple of seconds, not quite sure what you're supposed to do next. It's not dark so you don't need to find a flashlight. You could read a book or play an instrument. Most people, not me, but most people could still call friends or surf the web until their phone died and even then, they could just charge it in their car.

Yet, when the power goes out, you just freeze. Because even though you don't need it at the moment, you know you're missing something.

I don't know what I'm missing. Maybe it's just being around people, even if they don't notice me. Maybe it's John constantly listing everything he thinks is ridiculous every day at lunch.

Whatever it is, I don't have it during the summer. In the alternate universe that is summer, my power's always out.

I grab my guitar and a not-even-close-to-being-cold-yet cream soda and head out to the front porch.

It was originally a strategy, playing my guitar outside. It was a gimmick I tried to get Tally to notice me. I thought I could be the mysterious musical stranger across the street. I even learned some songs I thought would bring her to me like a moth to a flame. A Whole New World from Aladdin, Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith and a bunch of various Beatles songs.

I probably don't need to tell you this but it didn't work. Tally Fisk did not come running across the street with heart eyes. But it was an exercise in branching out from a) songs I wrote myself and b) Nirvana songs which don't tend to evoke sweet, gentle love emotions from girls.