Chapter Twenty-Seven
On the Rise
Song: You’re So Vain—Carly Simon
I started to forget about the existence of my harmful letter arriving at Zipper Magazine headquarters.
I thought that by then someone would have read the letter to decide if it was good enough to release it to the press.
Zipper’s silence led me to believe there was nothing to worry about.
My writing didn’t captivate Harold Hayes enough, which deflated my confidence in my writing skills, but it was good for my relationship with Jesse Young and the Matches if I ever wanted to reunite our friendship.
Darren contacted Betsy, who called me to say, “Darren misses you and is trying his best to leave the teeny town of Moose Creek to be with you.” She blabbed on and on about all the little things Thomas was failing at doing as her boyfriend.
“He’s just not very romantic anymore. I don’t know what to do about it.
It might be best if we just go back to being friends.
I need a man who will give me butterflies whenever I see them. ”
At first, I was uneasy about what their complicated relationship would do to our friend group, but I was one to talk.
I had changed every dynamic in our group, and I wasn’t convinced I could go back to Moose Creek.
So why did it matter? Betsy was wrong, though.
Relationships weren’t about big romantic gestures.
They were about the tiny things that added up and the loyalty of choosing to stay with someone despite every outside factor.
Talking to Betsy made me miss Moose Creek.
Darren hated living at a boring pinpoint on a map with his demanding father and religious upbringing.
Moose Creek meant more to me than that because it was my family’s getaway.
Without James, we had no place to visit even if we wanted to.
The town did not have a hotel we could rent, and we needed a camper if we wanted to park anywhere we wished.
I would miss the cold streams to swim in, the peach merchandise, the townspeople, the days spent playing basketball or hanging out in the park, and the privilege of running around without any threat to my safety.
Butterfield was an all right city, with a population exceeding fifty thousand.
We had movie theaters, places to hold concerts, multiple city parks, and any restaurant we needed.
The bigger population made it less safe and cozy, though.
When I desired something new yet familiar, Moose Creek was there for me to fall back on, but it was ripped away from me.
I had nowhere to run when life got tedious.
Boy, was life tedious. The only people I interacted with were my momma and co-workers.
I was supposed to be having the best summer of my life, but James’s decision to end his life had altered my plan for the future.
My emotions were confused. I could go from being vexed at James to devastated, missing him, upset, and then feeling guilty.
The process of grieving was complex and was something I was grateful to do on my own terms, even if I was lonely.
I understood my grandma in ways I never imagined.
The way she would snap and demand attention was wrong, and yet I felt like snapping all the time after James died.
I often checked the magazine inventory at work to see the newest additions of Zipper Magazine.
Our work policy said customers could only open a magazine if they bought it because too many people would read the content and put it back on the shelf without paying a dime, so I began buying each monthly copy.
I noticed a new edition of Zipper, even though there was already one out for the month of July.
The front cover pictured two ginormous peaches lying in the grass against each other, with a bite taken out of the closest peach showing a glimpse of its brown pit.
The title read, “ZIPPER: PITIFUL PEACHES or STOLEN SECRETS?” In fine print, it said, “Look on page eight to find out!” I almost ripped the magazine open when my boss walked by.
I pretended to put the magazine back into the slot despite wanting more than anything to read what was inside that cover.
“Hey! I am facing the new stock of magazines,” I said slyly. Facing is when you bring products toward the front of a shelf so customers can reach them more easily.
Fernando gave me a thumbs-up as he observed me.
Employees could only buy personal items during their breaks or when off the clock.
My break was an hour away, and I wondered if I would survive until then.
The minutes seemed to pass as slowly as Sheriff Douglas could run.
It was agonizing seeing the clock tick forward with such little movement.
When it was finally time to get my fingers onto the publication, I bolted down the aisle, grabbed the peach cover, and placed it on the conveyor belt.
The magazine pushed forward as my co-worker Marvin rang it up for me.
“Are you a fan of Jesse Young and the Matches? I think that new song stinks. Disco is where the trends are heading. You should come to the roller rink to get your groove on. Sometimes, some other workers and I go there after work. They play the best songs. It feels great under the sparkling lights. I’d love to take you. ”
I wouldn’t be caught dead roller skating, especially listening to disco in some sequin outfit. It wasn’t my scene, and neither was Marvin. Marvin was an all right guy and was only a grade above me but was part of an incompatible social group. Not to mention, my heart was elsewhere.
“Oh, thanks for the offer, but I don’t think it would be for me. I am more of a rock fan,” I said, grabbing the magazine and rushing out the front door. “I will be back! I am taking my break!” Although I listened to other genres occasionally, I needed an excuse to get out of there.
I sat in the front seat and felt the pages between my fingertips, licking my thumb to turn them. After picking apart a couple of pages that were stuck together, I flipped to page eight, revealing more than the story I wrote in my letter.
PITIFUL PEACHES or STOLEN SECRETS?
By: Harrold Hayes
If you haven’t heard Jesse Young and The Matches’ new hit “Pitiful Peaches,” you are in for a treat. The song has something for everybody to love; relatable lyrics, soft piano, electric bass, and a moody drum beat. But is it original?
An anonymous source wrote to ZIPPER claiming that Pitiful Peaches’ lyrics were stolen from a high school student named Darren Lawrence in Moose Creek, and the sequence of chords on the chorus were made by a 1950s band called Brett Beats.
Lawyers from Brett Beats are thoroughly looking into the situation and claiming they will also represent Mr. Lawrence if they file a lawsuit against the band and Ultimate Records.
Jesse Young’s fame may be going to his head, making fans worried for his health and well-being.
After a concert disaster in Portland, Oregon, Jesse went AWOL.
Concertgoers say that Jesse was upset at his bandmate, Keith Knox, for changing the setlist. Jesse allegedly threw his microphone at Keith, causing the mic to make a high-pitched noise.
Many fans are outraged and are demanding a refund.
Jesse Young and The Matches have refused to respond to any of these newfound allegations.
A guilty photo has emerged of Jesse Young at West-Brooke Rehabilitation Center, where he has been admitted. The public is left to ask if “Pitiful Peaches” is a masterpiece or “Stolen Secrets.”
Next to the column was a blurry black-and-white paparazzi photograph of Jesse smoking a cigarette on a balcony.
He wore jeans with a plain white cotton shirt that was baggy compared to his typical well-fitted show attire.
His tattooed arms looked weak in the overflow of the cloth.
It could have been the low quality or the shadows from the sun, but the corner of his mouth was raised like he was about to smile.
A wave of guilt hit me, pushed me over, and dragged me in the current.