7. Teenage Dirtbag
SEVEN
TEENAGE DIRTBAG
Cade
Why did she have to go on a date last night?
I tried working on new Tryhard songs for hours, but even that wasn’t able to keep my mind off of what she was up to with Sean. I hate that I knew where they were going, and it’s not like anyone told me that information, everyone in this town knows about the baseball team’s Varsity Diner traditions.
I wondered if she ordered a vanilla milkshake and insisted that it’s not boring, it’s an underrated classic . I wondered if they talked about me, not in a weird way, but because she met him at one of my —er, Tryhard ’s shows. He just happened to be at the venue we were playing at that night.
I always thought watching the crowd while performing was easy, until I started not being able to take my eyes off of her . Seeing her out in the crowd with him crushed me, even if I haven’t made any moves to ask her on a date myself. I've never invited a girlfriend to a show, I loosely mention it and sometimes they'll show up, but I can never seem to find them in the crowd the way I find Halle. No matter which road I follow to try to get my mind off of her, they all lead straight back to the same place, it’s like she’s my North Star.
Abbott never came home last night, leaving me to my own devices, and to make the night of overthinking worse; Mel texted me pretty late and said Halle had a good time. Of course.
All hope is lost.
I reacted to her text with a dislike. She followed up with another text that said, “noon, lunch, we will drive.” We. That either means her and Abbott, or Halle’s coming with them too.
Abbott and Mel have been helping me with Operation-Get-Halle-To-Fall-In-Love-With-Cade since high school. I do still feel really bad about doing it behind her back, but it’s a secret we share until either: forever, or Halle falls in love with me. And right now, I’m starting to think we might be taking our secret to the grave.
I was hopeful after we kissed a few years ago, it felt like things were finally falling into place for us. But, no matter how much Halle flirted back, or how many of Abbott’s baseball games we went to together that spring, nothing more ever came from it. I did bring her to senior prom as my date, and it ended up being our last hurrah. I was getting ready to head off to college with Abbott, she still had her senior year to look forward to, and we just kind of drifted apart. I accepted that it was either a case of right person, wrong time, or everything we shared was just a bunch of sweet nothings.
Here we are, it’s noon, I’m waiting in the parking lot for them to meet me outside, and trying not to think about if Halle is coming or not. It’s not a big deal, Cade, she’s your friend . I want her to come, I just don’t want to participate in any Sean-versations .
Abbott comes walking out of the girls’ apartment first and I look behind him expecting to only see Mel, but I instantly lock eyes with Halle as she makes her way out of the door after them, nice . She quickly tucks her hair behind her ear and snaps her eyes down to her phone and marches straight to the car. I feel like she doesn’t want to be here. She’d probably rather be going out with Sean again.
Mel turns the volume up as she pulls out of the driveway, but doesn’t switch her audiobook over to music. She’s never done this before, and it feels intentional. Mel’s always been so conscious of making other people comfortable, hence her love of hosting, so it’s almost like she doesn’t want anyone to talk. Not only do I have no clue what the story is about, but she’s playing it at twice the regular speed and I can barely keep up with the narrator's words.
I keep looking over at Halle but can’t get a read on her. Every time I look over, she’s in the exact same position, back hunched, knees turned tight to the car door, and her gaze locked in on her phone. I feel like she’s been purposefully scrolling on her phone the whole drive just to avoid me, but maybe I’m more in my head than usual, which is already a lot.
Eager for fresh air, I’m the first out of the car as soon as Mel parks in front of our favorite lunch spot, Pita Pulse , a small family-owned Greek restaurant. I hold the door open for everyone, and nobody says thank you. Why are they all being so weird? It can’t be all in my head. I can understand Halle being off today, but Mel and Abbott? They better not be abandoning our operation now that Sean’s come around.
We order at the counter and since I went first, I get the pleasure of picking out where to sit. Almost every table is open but I pick our usual table anyway. We like it because it sits up against the front windows, facing a busy street so we can people watch for entertainment while we eat.
One by one, they join me at the table, but everything is off. Nobody is sitting in their normal spot. So much for picking the usual table. Abbott’s directly across from me where Mel usually sits, but Mel’s now sitting next to me, and Halle’s across from her—a full switcheroo. And I’m supposed to pretend that everything’s normal?
Our food comes out and our gyros are good, the greatest, even. The conversations, however, are not. Everything feels unnatural; I don’t think an outing with the four of us has ever felt so forced before. I feel like they’re tip-toeing around me, trying to prevent any mention of Sean, for my sake. Halle mentioned him once, and thankfully Abbott quickly shut it down, and she hasn’t said his name again. Except she hasn’t said mine, either. Every time I start talking, she’s actively looking away at anything and everything else, but I can still see her eyes failing her and landing on me for a few seconds at a time. What could possibly be going on behind those pretty eyes? One date with Sean, and she’s ready to pretend that I don’t exist?
The ride back home is even more awkward because Halle called shotgun, booting Abbott to the back with me, while she and Mel get to be in their own little world. The girls even drop me and Abbott off at our front door so they can go back out and have a “girls day”—whatever that means. They probably want to keep talking about Sean without me or Abbott around.
I head straight to my room, craving some one-on-one time with my guitar. This is how I process my feelings and release them, how I go from being too in my head to still in my head but letting some of the pressure out. I’ll think about writing new Tryhard songs later. Right now, I need familiarity, I need the comfort of the songs that are ingrained so deep in my memory, the ones I play when I get like this. I don’t even know what this is, but I think it’s some combination of confusion, jealousy, and despair that I bottle up until it comes out whether I control it or not. It’s a good thing that when I have a guitar in my hands, I feel in control.
It’s only 3 p.m., but I turn my room into night mode, which is just turning on a star projector, drawing the blackout curtains shut, and turning off the big light. It’s been my go-to setup for “nights” like this because it feels like the outside world turns off with the lights. It’s totally not my favorite thing because I learned it from Halle, not at all.
One time after band practice sometime last year I was in a similar mood, I can’t remember what was going on, or what wasn’t, but Halle noticed and let me in on her night mode escape. She said that sometimes she wakes up and isn’t in a good mood or she feels like she’s just going through the motions of the day without really experiencing it. She told me that closing out the world and putting her star projector on helped her get grounded and get back in the moment. So what did I do? I bought a star projector and I’ve been using it ever since.
I put my phone on do not disturb and set it up against the corner of my desk, not having the energy to put it on the phone tripod Halle gave me for making videos for Tryhard’s socials. She just has to be so wrapped up in everything around me—except for me—doesn’t she? I open up my social media and get on live. I start strumming to myself, not waiting for anyone to join because I’m mostly doing this for myself, but I also know it would be good for the band to engage our followers. It’s times like these that I wish I could turn off the performer in me, but I live for the stage.
I play a few songs before stopping for a water break. I’m not in the mood for reading and reacting to comments, but I at least try to read the most recent ones while I’m sipping on my water. I barely finish reading the last comment before I get distracted by a new one popping up, the username itself making my heart sink. Halle’s watching, and usually, I’d be wishing that she was while I sing songs I’m only singing because of her, but not tonight. Tonight, I’m trying to let go of all these pent-up feelings I have for her, but she’s still finding a way to stay at the forefront of my brain, and she doesn’t even know it.
“One more song,” I announce as I start strumming the opening chords of one of my favorite songs on my mental ‘she’s never going to want you like you want her’ playlist, Teenage Dirtbag. It feels so fitting in this moment, the iconic angsty lyrics feeling true as ever. As soon as I finish the last chorus, I end the live with no goodbye, flop into my bed, and call it an early night. I have some sleep to try and catch up on from last night anyway.