The Rockstar Chronicles

Writing

The days blurred together after that night. It was almost military like in precision. Mom began to print off our itineraries the night before, unwilling or unable to give us more advance notice. I was too tired to argue and began to simply comply, squeezing in my research on boarding schools and my attempts to reach the last family member whenever I had a chance.

Mrs. Crabtree continued to train with us at Bridge's cabin, but not all of it was fun. We put in a lot of long hours and hard work learning her technique and changing routines when Mrs. Crabtree and Sarah got into an argument, which happened pretty frequently. We did try, at least once a week, to dance outside. It cleared our minds and helped us relax.

It was becoming increasingly hard to do.

One night, Mrs. Crabtree left early. Rain was coming in and she complained it was aggravating her arthritis. I never thought of Mrs. Crabtree as old, but that night she seemed to be withdrawn and sunk into herself.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked as I helped her to the car.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said. "Nothing a hot bath won't fix. But don't let this night go to waste. You kids have fun."

"Okay," I said, laughing. "If Hank doesn't mind coming back to get us."

"Not at all," he said, tipping his hat as he closed the door behind Mrs. Crabtree. I caught a glimpse of her leaning back, her head resting against the seat. She looked suddenly frail and old and tired.

The fire was low in the fire pit and the wind was gusting, the cool air promising showers soon.

Grady, Hardyn, and Ryder had already disappeared inside and I could see blue light flashing through the windows as they booted up the video games. I sank into the chair next to the fire, watching it flicker.

"You mind if we join you?" Bridge asked as he appeared on the porch, guitar in hand. Tom stood beside him, clutching a battered notebook.

I shook my head as I tucked my legs underneath me and they settled into chairs beside me.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"We're writing a song, but we're stuck. I think we're going to try something new," Tom explained.

"Can I read your old one?" I asked.

Bridge hesitated, which surprised me. I hadn't realized he was shy about this part, but Tom gave it to me before he could protest.

"What do you think, Linds?" Tom asked.

It was hard to decipher Tom's scrawl by the campfire light and I shifted to the paper to see it better.

Kiss Goodbye

I glanced at Tom. "Is this the song they took the band's name from?"

"Yep," Tom nodded, grinning.

I thought I knew you well,

But it was all a lie,

You say it's hard to go,

Then you don't even try,

Bidding me farewell,

with just a kiss goodbye

I couldn't walk away,

And you watched me cry,

The time was drawing near,

And I had to fly,

So you bid me farewell,

With just a kiss goodbye,

As you passed my way,

I tried to catch your eye,

But you waved me off,

You blew me a kiss goodbye.

"This is great," I breathed as I read it. I looked up at them. Their faces were illuminated in the firelight. "What does it mean?"

"We wrote it together," Bridge said. "But I mainly did the first verse."

"And I did the second," Tom said. "But we can't think of a good ending."

"You will," I said as I handed them the notebook and listened as they composed the music, coming up with the perfect tune to match their lyrics.

My mind wandered as I thought about their song. It made me sad, but I couldn't explain why. And then I sat up with a jerk, snatching the pen and paper from Tom's hand.

"Hey!" Bridge protested, but Tom stopped him. I flipped to a fresh page and jotted it down, quickly, before I lost it.

I thought of Ryder and then I scrawled a final verse.

"Was it a kiss goodbye?" I whispered, too low for the boys to hear.

I hesitated and my hand wavered as I considered throwing it into the fire. But then Tom put his hand on mine. "Let me read it."

I gave it to him and he scanned it, his face lighting up with excitement. "It's perfect, Bridge, read it! We can use some of it as repeating verses at the end."

Bridge strummed the guitar, mouthing the words as he read them. "I really like it, Lindy," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"Where did you get yours?" I countered.He stared into the fire and then looked up at me. "My parents went away a lot."

"Tom?" I asked.He swallowed hard. "The airport. When Granny took me to come here. But I didn't really cry," he added hurriedly.

"It would have been alright with me if you did," I said and Tom grinned at me.

"I know."

"So? Where did you get yours?" Bridge asked impatiently.

I shrugged and did my best to explain about the funeral procession idea I had thought of, but deep down inside I wondered. Was it more than that? Was it something I saw coming, even though I couldn't explain it yet?

The rain began to pour without warning, sending the fire into a hissing frenzy before smothering it out. We ran inside, laughing with relief, almost as if we had escaped something.

**** Ok guys, you'll see Lindy's verses soon! lol What did you think? I was nervous writing a song for this story. I hope you like it!