Bright Lights, Dark Nights (7 page)

“You can tell me if you're in trouble, you know, right?” He kept looking at me to verify I was listening. It was a little troubling with people walking on the sidewalk and crossing the street.

“Dad, I'm fine,” I said.

Naomi was asking me if I wanted to go to the Foo Fighters concert.
U were a huge hit with the fam
, her message read.
My mom would totally let me go w/ u. I can work this.

Was that a good message or bad? Was she saying I was a big nerd, but she could use me to get to the concert? Who was I kidding? I didn't care.
Operation Uncle Dave is a go
, I replied.
Count me in.

“It's good that you stood up to them,” Dad said. He just kept talking. “And those are some ugly dudes to face, too. But you can't run from problems. You tackle them head-on, right? You did good. I'm proud.”

“Dad, we were walking. That's it,” I said. My phone buzzed. I was afraid to look at the screen. What if she'd changed her mind, or she'd been just joking and I'd misinterpreted it and hadn't caught the tone? What if she hadn't asked at all and I'd just responded to an imaginary message? Reception was poor, and her message took, like, ten seconds to show up, which was a very long time when you were in midconversation with Naomi Mills.

LOL that was fast!
Naomi replied. Not exactly a confirmation of plans.

I'm in my dad's cop car. I think I'm under arrest. :P
, I wrote back. I tried to send it, but the Internet dropped out again. Technology fail. The phone buzzed again as Dad pulled up to our building, and my eyes darted to the screen.

NOOOOO
, Naomi wrote back.
Post bail! We need you free til after the concert!

Bake me a cake with a nail file in it,
I wrote.

At that exact moment, I'd have escaped Alcatraz if I needed to.

 

Chapter Four

 

10/23 10:35 WalterW1014:
Hey, are you going to the Foo Fighters concert Saturday?

10/23 10:35 NateTheGreat01:
Have I said or done anything to indicate I'd be going to a Foo Fighters concert? Or do I have a clone running around I need to be concerned with?

10/23 10:35 WalterW1014:
I'm just wondering if I should go.

10/23 10:35 NateTheGreat01:
If you have to wonder, maybe just don't go?

10/23 10:36 WalterW1014:
Well, a girl I was talking to wanted to go, and I might have said I'd go too.

10/23 10:36 NateTheGreat01:
Really? Who?

10/23 10:36 WalterW1014:
Don't tell Kate though …

10/23 10:36 NateTheGreat01:
Kate would demand you go, you know that right?

10/23 10:37 NateTheGreat01:
So what's the dilemma? Sounds like a sweet deal.

10/23 10:37 WalterW1014:
I'm not sure if it's a good idea. Believe it or not I might make a poor impression.

10/23 10:38 NateTheGreat01:
If you don't go, I'll go. I'm single now. She sounds hot.

10/23 10:38 WalterW1014:
I haven't said a thing about her.

10/23 10:39 WalterW1014:
Here's the thing. I'm in a pretty good space now.

10/23 10:39 NateTheGreat01:
Perfect, go

10/23 10:40 WalterW1014:
and if I go, like her, things don't work out, bam. Distraught for the rest of high school.

10/23 10:40 NateTheGreat01:
You're not in a good space, you're distraught now. This IM wouldn't be happening in a good space.

10/23 10:40 NateTheGreat01:
Who is this mystery girl?

10/23 10:40 WalterW1014:
She's a junior, Naomi Mills. Don't tell anyone, though.

10/23 10:41 NateTheGreat01:
Really? Wow, okay

10/23 10:41 NateTheGreat01:
I dig it. You should definitely go.

10/23 10:42 WalterW1014:
Yeah, I guess so. I already said yes, so I guess I have to.

10/23 10:42 NateTheGreat01:
Walter. Go. This is an order. I'm happy for you.

10/23 10:42 NateTheGreat01:
This is going to be amazing, you'll see. Best night of your life.

*   *   *

It's a strange feeling when you're on the bus with a pretty girl and somehow you'd rather be in front of it. Maybe some of us are just conditioned to the bad things, and even though we hate them, it's what we know and what we're comfortable with. We've adapted to crappiness and anything more or less is unsettling.

I was already blowing it. I had to be boring her. Did she just want to go to this concert and I happened to be a decent-enough excuse to escape the family watchdogs? Was she expecting someone else there? What if it was a guy, a secret boyfriend? Was the whole night going to be weird? Those were the questions running through my head as I sat next to the prettiest girl I'd ever seen and couldn't think of anything to say for going on three minutes. That was a lot of time for awkward silence on what could, conceivably, be a first date.

I was people-watching, trying to keep my brain distracted from all the negative thoughts, before it got me in trouble. I found more than a few people on their way to a rock concert, based on the median college age and abundance of Foo Fighters T-shirts. Naomi, on the other hand, had actual fashion sense. She wore a jean jacket better than most. And the bracelets—she accessorized. I never hung out with anyone who accessorized.

We were on our way to the High Hill section of the city, and the buildings were getting taller the closer we got; the lights were getting brighter.

“Have you seen Uncle Dave lately?” Naomi asked, breaking our epic bout of silence. “Do you see him often? Does he know you're coming?” She'd been trying to pin me down on the Uncle Dave fib ever since that dinner. This running joke was turning into a marathon.

“Yeah, I see him when he's in town,” I said, rolling with the story. “We have a secret language. If he plays ‘Everlong,' it's a message to me because he knows that's my favorite.” I never talked to anyone the way I talked to Naomi. It was like a game of volleyball in which neither of us ever missed, we were that in tune with each other's playing style.

“Oh wow,” Naomi said. “I hope they play it. That'll be so cool for you. And I'll know the real reason they're playing it. So do you listen to
anything
but rap Rap and ‘Everlong'?”

“I like everything, remember?” I said. “I like the Beatles.”

“The Beatles?” Naomi asked. “Who's that? I never heard of them.”

We passed a long chain-link fence, and the bus pulled into a semiempty parking lot a couple of blocks away from the uptown High Hill area. Hotels, restaurants, and venues crammed the grid. This was the section that went on the tourist brochures and state website. A five-by-five grid of lit-up, fun-for-the-family city entertainment that cast a long, dark shadow where the rest of us lived.

“I'm excited. I don't go to a lot of concerts,” Naomi said. “Last one was with my sister a few years ago.”

“Kelly?” I asked, remembering her baby sister.

“Kelly's, like, one year old,” Naomi said, shaking her head and laughing. “How would I go to a concert with her a few years ago? No, my older sister, Alicia.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, unaware that she and Jason had an older sister. “What concert did you see with her?”

“Erykah Badu,” Naomi said. “Look, I love Erykah Badu and I love the Foo Fighters. I'm like you, I love everything. I love Kenny Rogers.”

“Everything's the best,” I said. “Kenny Rogers, though? Really?”

“I've never heard his music but yes,” Naomi said. “He's awesome. He's my favorite.”

We walked between tall buildings, lights all around and stars in the sky if you looked straight up. I looked up too much when I walked in the city, like a kid when the whole world's taller than you. It felt like that in High Hill—like if you looked down, you'd miss half the picture. The buildings got impossibly tall and the lights impossibly bright and I felt like we were in a maze, like mice in a maze. People walked in packs and we followed the herd, down one street and up another.

We passed through people like sand through a sifter, outside the building, in the doorway, the merch area. I tried to look like I belonged and like I wasn't freaked out by the mobs even though this was my first concert. And maybe my last, since it'd taken all the money I had left from Mom's birthday present to get my ticket.

There was seating around the sides of the venue, but Naomi and I were in a busy general admission area. Naomi sprang to life once the show started, dancing up a storm while I shouldered the brunt of bodies being slammed around us. It turned out that Foo Fighters fans were much bigger than me, and more nimble and more drunk. There was no great way to know if this was a date, or just a friendly hang-out, or if she just really wanted to go to this concert. At least there wasn't a secret boyfriend. I didn't know how to nudge things in one direction or another, or if there was something expected of me at some point to cement things as romantic or friendly. I had no idea what to expect, and that was why I'd broken out in a sweat once again. I looked at the happy seated people off to the side. I could have done some gentle chair-dancing there, I was good at chair-dancing. As it was, I swayed and head-bobbed and pushed back against the wave of shoulders and elbows. I could guarantee a constant movement of my body, but I could not guarantee it was dancing.

Naomi, on the other hand, was good. I think. She looked good to me, anyway. She seemed to talk to everyone in our radius. When she wasn't doing that, she was yelling song names to me each time a new riff played. She was a legit fan. She spent more time asking people around us what their favorite albums were and what other shows they've been to than she did talking to me. A good three or four guys seemed to be interested in her. Two of them might as well have come here with her.

“This is so fun!” she shouted toward me about halfway through the set. “It's like a big family here. I love it!” It did feel like family, which is why I wanted to go to my room and shut the door. That word had different connotations for us.

There were bodies everywhere, dark bodies with splashes of red highlights on us. I watched the band and I watched Naomi as the lights on the audience went off and on in flashes to rile up energy. One of the guys kept leaning in and I couldn't hear him. Sounded like he wanted to get her something, a drink maybe. She shook her head, and they laughed. I couldn't tell if she knew these guys or not. At the rate I was going, they were more likely to make a move than I was. I glanced at my phone and saw we had probably an hour or so left, and I debated sneaking away or going outside for air, but instead I smiled firmly and kept with the waves of crowd movement, a reluctant semimosh. If I brought Naomi home crushed or bruised or folded in half, I could count a second date out.