Can’t take it all at once,
the mind numbs,
won’t make it real.
I almost forgot your name
But I’ll never place the blame
On anyone else,
not even me,
this wound is what you’ve done,
this old wound never heals,
more blood
will always run.
A part of me
left with his last breath
Clinging to
the only parent I have left.
Your memory reminds me,
that the sun will never shine
They say it takes time,
But you’ve taken what’s mine.
This wound is what you’ve done,
this old wound never heals,
Damage done.
The blood will always run.
Old wound never heals. I scrawl the words at the top of the page and read over the song with my fingers pressing over the words. It hurts so much, the wound that left. An ache that only dulls sometimes. I pull my hand away, noticing the small red stain at the bottom of the page.
The fake blood.
Stevie walks in the door with her lamb in her mouth again. “We’ve gotta take you next door. You’ll have fun, okay?” And I’ll know you’re safe.
I tuck my greatest hits notebook in my bag and bring it downstairs with us, tapping my fingers against the blood on my dress. A little tacky, but mostly good to go. I open the door and Stevie follows me out, crossing our driveway, and down the side of the Hilden’s house with a glance back at the street. Band’s not here yet and I won’t be late.
Nearing the corner of their house in the back yard, I turn around again, expecting the dark car with the tinted windows to pull up in front of the house, but the street is empty.
Chapter 14
Now there’s a dark car parked outside.
A blue van pulls up to the curb with Royal behind the wheel and Cline in the front passenger seat. Stokes opens the sliding door for me as I rush down the driveway. I toss my bag on the floor behind Cline’s seat first before hopping in, gathering the material of my dress, and hoisting it in with me before shutting the door.
Lucie laughs. “Well, aren’t we a merry bunch of misfits?”
“Pretty gruesome, Lyn!” Cline says without turning around.
“Thanks!”
“Nice costume,” Stokes says beside me, and I turn to him.
An orange lightning bolt is painted down his face, highlighted on one edge in blue.
I point to it. “You’re David Bowie!” He nods with a grin as I examine his hair. “That looks like a lot of hairspray.”
Royal turns the wheel in a dark brown coat, pulling away from the curb, and checks the rearview mirror. He’s wearing a funny mask on his mouth.
“Are you… Bane?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes smiling as he focuses on the turn off my street.
“Guess me.” Lucie leans forward on the other side of Stokes wearing a brown jumpsuit with yellow patches on each shoulder.
“Oh, I think I know this one.” I snap my finger over and over, trying to remember the name as she holds up a laser tag gun.
“Don’t guess ghost buster,” Stokes mutters. “I did, and I was wrong.”
“Ripley!” I say.
“From Alien.” She nods. “Very good. Stokes, you’re the only one who didn’t get it. Look at my hair. Why would I fan it all out like this to be a ghost buster?”
We all laugh, and Stokes throws his hands up. “I can’t win.”
“Cline?” I ask.
He turns around, revealing his light and dark face paint, beautifully shaded.
“Oooo, Skeleton. It looks great. Did you do that?” I point to his face.
He nods. “Took me the whole afternoon. I watched two different YouTube tutorials about three times, but yep. Nailed it. And you’re a…” He scans me up and down.
“Dead bride?” Lucie asks.
“Close enough.” I smile and pull my bag into my lap, but Cline continues to stare.
“You’re the girl from Ready or Not!” Cline shouts. “The bride in the dress on her wedding night, running from her family!”
I hadn’t thought of that, but I could have. “I love that movie!”
“That ending!” he says, turning around. “So good!”
My phone vibrates against my lap and I dig it out of my bag, tapping the screen.
Pictures from Mom’s vacation attached in an email. Beautiful beaches, sunsets, and a path with dense vegetation surrounding it. I smile, tapping out of the email and into my contacts.
So much has been going on, I forgot to tell Taylor the details for the show tonight.
Do I care if he comes?
What’s the harm?
Do I want to see him again?
Maybe. Yes.
I tap his name and text a last-minute message: Hey, it’s Lyn. Our show’s at Noblemen tonight. We start at nine. Will I see you there?
“Hey Lyn.” Lucie leans forward. “I was thinking about your song. I think I’ve got a good melody for it that we can try out tomorrow before the show if you want. Even tonight in the green room if we get a chance.”
“Actually” —I tuck my phone back in my bag— “I’d rather do another one, if that’s okay with you all? I wrote something new, just before you guys came actually.”
“Sweet.” Stokes turns his head to look at me. “Share it with us after the show tonight, cool?” I nod. “Anybody heard from Pash, yet?”
“No,” they all say, one after another.
The rest of the drive down the highway is silent, and after we exit, Royal turns the music down. “I can’t believe we get to play at Noblemen. Man, I wish Pascha was here, too. Glad you’re with us, Lyn, but—I miss her.”
His vulnerable confession surprises me, and I think back to the image Stokes painted for me of Royal sitting in this van out front of Lucie and Mika’s, not ready to go in for the first time without Pascha. Of Lucie crying in the guest house.
“I know, buddy,” Stokes says as we pull up to Noblemen and he leans in toward me. “This is the most I’ve heard him talk about her since she left,” he whispers in my ear. “They went to college together. Did I tell you that?”
I nod and stare at Royal as we roll past the two-story building sitting
