ZOE
Killer Queen // Queen
I lay on the floor of my room, once again gripping my Beats close to my head as the music flows through them. I've got my Requiem playlist pulsing into my ears, anticipating that song. I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable heartache to follow. This is part of my daily torture. But why do I torture myself like this? This constant mourning over losing Dylan is bullshit. Deep down I know he doesn't want me anymore. Shit, during our break up he screamed the words, I don't love you anymore and every time I see him, he's sucking face with his new girlfriend. He's made it clear, he has moved on. Why can't I? What the fuck is wrong with me that I keep clinging to these memories of the two of us together.
The song begins to play, the one that has destroyed me daily for the last few weeks. I take in each opening note, building up towards the first verse. I hold my breath as the words begin and...nothing. Not a single flutter in my heart or roll in my stomach. I don't feel sick or on the verge of certain death. Nothing. What does that mean? I'm suddenly freaked out and not sure how to feel about not feeling.
I open my eyes and roll over, not crushing a single pizza box or fast food wrapper. My room is clean. A feat I blame entirely on Chelsea. I found myself pacing the room after walking away from Chelsea, stomping on the trash and inhaling the stench as I muttered furiously. Then I was pissed at the mess, at the remnants of my sorrow scattered all over the room. In a blind rage, I marched to the utility room and gathered a garbage bag along with some cleaning supplies and commenced ridding my sanctuary from the filth I'd collected. Each box and wrapper was shoved into the trash with a few words of condemnation, some for Dylan, some for Chelsea, and some for new guy who had succeeded to get under my skin in less than twenty-four hours after we met. That's got to be some kind of record.
There had been no blow up with Chelsea after band practice. For all of my talk about killing her the moment I had her alone in the car, I never even laid a finger on my so-called best friend. Instead, as soon as that new guy, Emerson, sauntered out of her car, waving and smiling at me like an idiot, I initiated my newest grand plan: The silent treatment.
If Chelsea is going to ignore my requests to leave me the hell alone and stay out of my love life, then I'm going to ignore her. Period. I was so fuming mad by the time she dropped me off that I slammed her car door and stomped into the house.
Dragon lady didn't even get a chance to question my newest mood before I'd made it into my room with an equally loud slamming of my own door. It was a good thing dad isn't home yet because that kind of attitude wouldn't fly in his presence. A teenage tantrum would have meant facing another solid month without my car for sure.
So now I lay on my stomach, in my clean room, smelling the lemony scent of carpet cleaner and polish. I am not happy, I am not sad, I am numb. Have I burned out all of the anger in my psyche? I know Hozier inspired the fire to burn hotter, pushing me forward in my quest to appear stronger than I actually feel. But what is this sudden feeling of emptiness? Where has the gut-wrenching longing for Dylan gone? Does this mean that I am finally over the bastard? Or am I so emotionally exhausted that I've run out of feelings, just for the moment. Will the heart ache and darkness come rushing back?
I hit shuffle on my playlist, trying to shake things up. It's not that I'm upset to have a moment of reprieve from the wretched heartbreak, but not feeling anything at all is kind of alarming considering the shit show that Dylan put on yesterday during school, and after it. The hell on earth he put me through when he decided he was going to kick me out of the band. And then on top of all that I was subjected to every bit of humiliation he could think up with his little trollop. Yes, it's gotten so bad I've now lost my mind and I've started using some of the Dragon Lady's favorite words. Trollop--a word thrown at any flirty, good-looking female under thirty in the neighborhood. Trollop, an early twentieth century reference for a hooker. Yep, I looked it up. Trollop, the perfect word for my ex's newest fling. Dylan is such an ass.
"Zoe?" I hear Dragon lady call my name as she simultaneously knocks on the door. I must not have the music up loud enough to drown out her nagging. The crazy lady doesn't even wait ten seconds for me to answer before she's got the door wide open and barges into my room. Myroom. Dragon lady doesn't believe in privacy. Something we have fought about often.
My wonderfully understanding father changed the knobs before he left so that I couldn't lock myself in my room and wallow. The insults just keep rolling in.
"What in the world happened in here?" Dragon lady's voice raises about three octaves as she scans my room.
"What do you mean?" I scan the apparently offensive room and notice the gleam bursting from every surface. "It's clean!" Is she seriously complaining that I cleaned my room?
"Are you feeling alright? You have to stop hiding yourself away in here with those headphones. It's not healthy."
I stare at her with my mouth open. Is she for real? What does she expect me to do? Come down stairs and socialize with her?
"I cleaned my room. Deal with it." I get up from the floor and start tossing my books into my bag, hoping that Chels is almost at the house. As much as I'm not looking forward to driving to school with Chelsea, it's better than standing here arguing with Dragon Lady. I'm acting like Dragon lady is crazy for being upset about a clean room, but the truth is that she's kind of right. I'm not feeling okay. I'm not feeling like myself. Hell, I'm not feeling anything at all. Even I'm a little worried about this nothingness that's taken over.
Without another word I squeeze past my dad's wife, standing in my doorway with her hands on her hips. I expect her to say something or try and physically stop me, but surprisingly, she stays silent as she lets me pass by. I quickly move down the hallway and then through the kitchen. There's a glaring absence of pancakes and bacon today. My stomach growls loudly. I'm hungry today, but of course the second I get my appetite back, there's nothing to eat. Sometimes I really think the universe hates me.
Dragon lady follows me to the door.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
I'm surprised she is asking and not demanding.
"Um, school? You know that place that teenagers are sentenced to for the duration of their adolescence," I snap back.
I stand waiting for her temper to kick in. But instead of shouting at me as usual she says quite calmly, "Your father and brother are due back this Friday. I've taken a few hours off so we can all go out to dinner to celebrate their return and I expect you to attend. Don't go making any plans with those friends of yours."
She might not have shouted the words, but there is a firmness in her voice. We both know she has just issued an order.
And before she issues more, I spot Chelsea pulling up to the house. But I know if I don't answer Dragon lady there will be hell to pay later. I turn and say, "Fine. I don't have band practice on Friday, anyway." Too bad because if there's anything I can't stand it's eating in a restaurant with my brother.He's a freaking eight-year-old pig.
"Chelsea's here I gotta go." I plaster a smile on my face and head through the door. And the minute I'm through the door the smile is replaced with a glare. Glaring and silence is what Chelsea's going to get from now on, but Dragon Lady doesn't need to know that my so-called friends are all traitors.
I'm relieved to see that Chelsea doesn't have any other passengers. It better stay that way because I'm not in the mood to deal with new guy's annoying personality. Or his need to put his arm around my shoulders.
I rush to the car and jump in as fast as I can. "Drive," I order before I even get the door closed all the way.
"Oh are you speaking to me again? How pleasant." Chelsea dead-pans then throws her car into drive and takes off.
But I say nothing more. Now that Dragon lady is a speck in the rearview mirror, I'm done talking. I can feel Chelsea grinding her teeth and shifting her jaw in frustration, but I don't give a rat's ass. She started this by dragging new guy to that joke of an audition. No one else ever showed up and if she hadn't brought Richie McRicherson I would still have been the solo lead singer. Dylan's little plan would have blown up in his face. Victory would have been mine without even trying.
But no. Chelsea had to get involved in her usual way and now I'm stuck with this guy for however long he can put up with Dylan.
Unless Dylan refuses to put up with him. That's got to be my game plan: get new guy fired ASAP. A carefully worded slip about new guy's drumming skills should do the trick and then bye bye annoying little bass-playing singer guy.
"About Emerson," Chelsea starts saying in a cheerful voice.
But I stop her with a loud, "Hmmph!" Yes, I actually hmphed. It's not really a word so technically I didn't speak.
"Zoe, Emerson is a good guy. He was looking to get into a band, and he was going to the audition whether I took him or not. You'll thank me later for bring him to practice. And once you get to know him you will see how much he really needs the band." As Chelsea is talking, she is taking the corners going mach ten.
I am throwing her withering glances while holding on for dear life. I try to keep my tongue, but I can't hold the words in any longer. "Thank you! Are you kidding me?" I yell. Since she can't see my withering glances, I make sure to let my displeasure in her crazy plan be known by my pissed off and loud response. "He needs the band! I don't need the band!" So much for the silent treatment. I couldn't stop myself, I had to say something, but damnit I shouldn't engage her because once she gets going, Chelsea is a force that can't be stopped. Yesterday's band practice with new guy is exhibit A.
"Oh, you need the band! Oh yes, you do. Girl, if you didn't have the mic and the music, you'd be lost with those other zombies on the grassy knoll. Instead you're the one they follow." Her tone turns motheringly as she says, "It's your calling, sweetie. Don't let those crazy music zombies of yours down."
I shake my head, not able to disagree with her and not wanting to admit it.
"See, you know I'm right." She leans forward and turns up the music I only now notice is playing.
What the hell is wrong with me? Music is usually the first thing I notice anywhere I go, but today I didn't even hear it.
She leans over and nudges me with her shoulder. "Come on, Zoe. This one's calling your name."
"Killer Queen? Very funny." Damnit, I spoke again! The classic Queen song fills the car as Chelsea roars into the school lot. ...Dynamite with a laser beam...
Meh. That used to be me. Now I'm more like a freaking jelly bean then a laser beam. Shit.
I'm relieved she didn't make any detours to a certain rich guy's mansion on her way to school. I am not in the mood to deal with Chelsea and especially not up to hearing her go on and on in about Emerson. Why the hell is she always coming to his defense?
Chelsea turns in her seat and gives me a disapproving frown. "There's nothing funny about it. Your killer attitude needs to make a comeback."
I roll my eyes and do my best not to say another damn thing to her. It isn't until I've got all my gear and am climbing out of the passenger seat that I notice new guy standing next to the shiny new BMW parked by us. Figures he'd drive something that flashy. I make the mistake of catching his eye and find him smiling at me. That same dopey smile from yesterday.
"Hey, morning." He winks as we climb out of the car. I hate guys who wink. It's so...stupid.
"Morning." I grunt the words out and then breeze past him.
"Hey, handsome. Ready for day two in hell?" Chelsea asks as she sidesteps up to him.
Chelsea and new guy follow behind me, because I'm not waiting for them. Last thing I want to do is walk into school with him.
"As ready as I can be," I hear him say. There is a long pause and then he laughs and says, "Whatever happens I'll survive". I can hear that smart ass, rich kid, winking guy, tone in his voice.
I feel numb, my best friend has gone AWOL, suddenly cast under the spell of new guy's charm, and tonight after school I will be stuck in band practice with the Dumb fuck ex, the trollop, and the rich ass. What did I do to bring on this fucked up karma? Why does the whole damn Universe hate me so hard?
EMERSON
Damn. She freaking hates me.
Yeah, Zoe is not impressed. She's in denial. But don't worry, we'll hear all about Emerson's side of things next week! We'll see how the train wreck of band practice goes. How do you think Zoe will try to get rid of Emerson? Is he going to give up? And what do you think of the Chelsea aesthetic up top? It's so her!
We got this one in under the wire! It's tough writing two pieces at the same time, with very different vibes! Thanks for joining the fun, and here's a bit of Queen fun, because how could we not use this classic?