Psyche

4

They hardly talk to each other. They see each other in the halls and in class, and only a hint of acknowledgement will pass between them before they go their separate ways

Jean thinks it’s his fault even though he can’t figure out how and he’s tempted to blame it (whatever “it” is) on Jamie and his overemotional, weirdo self . . . And Jean’s probably being unfairly mean right now,  but it’s not his fault Jamie is so confusing.

Whatever went wrong, it’ll get better. It always does.

******

“People from Aquaria Records want to talk to us after the show on Friday,” Ellisha shrieks to the group, his voice going one note higher with each word. His laptop sits on his lap, blaring the message back at his face. He, Jean, and Lewis are lounging around Ellisha’s livingroom with cans of half drunken rootbeer, candy wrappers, and chip bags around them.

“It’s legit,” Ellisha adds, giving a thumbs up. “You guys.”

“If you have to say ‘it’s legit’ then it’s probably not,” Lewis says, flicking Ellisha’s forehead. The boy sneers at him, throwing up his middle finger.

“Yeah yeah, but it is. You know how many big bands are signed to Aquaria? They asked us to call them, but I was waiting till you guys got here before I did anything,” he says, typing something before closing his laptop. With the sudden silence comes the noticeable excitement that’s beginning to boil over. Ellisha looks each guy in the eye with a serious gleam that’s unnatural and somewhat wrong for the quirky boy.

“Guys,” he starts sternly, “think about it. We’ve been a band for like two and a half years now. We’ve worked our asses off like shit. Say it’s about to all pay off. We’re so close to – I don’t wanna say ‘making it big,’ because that sounds like we’re sell-outs. But we’ll have a chance at –everything! We can do more.”

“Wow, that was so inspiring. I loved it,” Lewis snickers, pulling the can tab off a pop and tossing it into Ellisha’s hair.

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah yeah, we know.” Lewis scratches his face, the beginnings of a beard starting to show. He glances at Jean and punches his shoulder.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “What’s up?”

Jean’s been staring across the room the whole time, barely hearing anything except the possibility of the band getting signed soon. As lame as it sounds, his dreams are coming together and actually coming true.  “It’s just . . .” he starts, sitting up straighter and motioning with his hands, “we’ll have to prove to them we’re serious about this.”

“And if they decide maybe we’re not all that?” Lewis asks.

“We’ll cry about it over cheap porn and then start a metal band because we’re just that upset,” Ellisha answers, chugging down a can of rootbeer and letting out a loud, wet belch in Lewis’s face. “Chyah.”

Lewis scrunches his face and makes a sound of disgust that causes Jean to laugh. He won’t ever tell them directly, but he loves how Lewis is so high-maintenance and a gentleman, while Ellisha is probably the Israeli version of a stereotypical country boy who likes hunting and girls. Lewis is tall with no muscles and has Joan Jett-styled hair, whereas Ellisha is short, has a shaved head and skin sketched with scratches from God only knowswhat.

Then there’s Jean, who is also completely different from the both of them. It’s probably why they mesh so well. Besides over their love of music, foreign candy, and making fun of people for whatever reason.

The guys talk for a bit, eventually taking a breather when Ellisha’s parents and siblings come back from a school play. They grab more food and then retreat to Ellisha’s room for privacy.

Ellisha lets Jean borrow his guitar to play a new song; while he and Lewis look over the other new songs Jean’s written and add their spins to it.

“Your lyrics are changing,” Lewis says when Jean finishes a melody.

“How?”

Lewis rubs the back of his neck. “They’re better. More retrospective. More imagery. More mature –“

“There’s a female, isn’t there?” Ellisha pipes. “Are you and that chick finally going out?”

Jean doesn’t know whether to laugh out loud or groan in mild disgust. The thought of him and Alexandria dating seems too . . . strange now. He only has a distant feeling of ever being attracted to her in that way, and it wasn’t quite that long ago.

How odd.

“No, it’s not any girl,” Jean says after awhile.

“Something’s brought on these sudden revelations.” Lewis smirks, a dirty look on his face Jean wants to punch as Lewis reads. “They don’t need to know all the things I’ll do to you . . . the marks I’ll leave won’t burn tears but leave love.”

“Chyeah, I guess there’s a person, but it’s just whatever --“ Jean’s sentence dies on his tongue, and his face burns hotly from the guys’ sly grins.

“If you say so, Jean Paul,” but they don’t notice his mistake, the almost confession.

“I think it is someone because you hardly ever get embarrassed,” Ellisha utters. Jean’s back hits the frame of Ellisha’s bed. He really should leave before something happens. He tells them his mom needs him home and all but runs from the room with a hefty bye.

He ends up taking the long way home, a mistake that causes his mind to drift every which way. He thinks of past girlfriends, almost or secret boyfriends, failed crushes, Alexandria, Jamie . . .

Jean bashes on the brake, almost running a red light.

He can barely admit anything to himself anymore.

Jean doesn’t have a problem with liking girls. He doesn’t have a problem with liking boys. He doesn’t exactly “hide” it, but it’s also something he doesn’t want everyone to know. He doesn’t need anyone knowing. Not his family or his friends.

But all in all, it’s not exactly those things.

It’s just Jamie.

Jean was caught feeling something he wasn’t supposed to, and he doesn’t know where to go with it or even if he wants to go there.