Free September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series by A.R. Rivera Page A

because it seems he’s joined whatever little club the other
two are in—stares off into space, chewing on the cuticle around his
thumbnail.
    Biting back the irritation, I speak
up. “I’m jumping ahead to a few weeks before the big tour
started.”
    I close my eyes to focus, imaging the
moments I picture are wrapped onto a reel of film, fast forwarding
until I get to that time: the one where my world was spinning in
two different directions, simultaneously ripping forward and
back.
    “Everything was coming together and
falling apart . . .” My hands unconsciously grip the chair as I
open my mind and let the memories fly out, rearranging the
space.
    Transporting me.
    +++
    Analog Controller would get their
shot. One chance to make their dreams come true.
    And with that, the threat of being
forgotten became all too real for me. I was happy for the band. I
wanted them to succeed. More than anything, I wanted what was best
for Jake, but I was terrified I’d be left behind in the
process.
    It was a real tour with three other
bands, a piggy-back set of gigs and a huge source of stress. Mostly
for me, because of that fear of separation, of not being enough. I
tried to keep it in check, especially since everyone else was so
excited. It was a huge opportunity and the biggest tour Analog
Controller would be a part of, up to that point. They’d been
invited to play six dates with Anemic Psychos. The Psychos had a
label backing them, an album dropping, and were known throughout
the state. They invited Analog to fill a spot that opened when one
of the touring bands had fallen out of the lineup for whatever
reason. Some of those dates were filled right away, but someone
from another group on the tour, the Proselytes, threw Analogs name
out there (Jake had played with them before) and the invitation to
finish off the last leg of the tour was extended.
    It was so easy, like filling in a
bubble on a Scan-tron test. Everything was complete once Analog
answered. All they had to do was show up.
    The scariest part for me was that the
band was actually going to play a few shows in Southern California.
The scary part for the band was that they had little time to
prepare.
    Jake was determined. Los Angeles was
the place to be if you wanted a record deal. And to get that, you
needed exposure. And to get exposure, you had to be a part of the
music scene. That scene played out mostly in Los Angeles and New
York.
    My mind gnawed on the meaning of this
huge opportunity as my feet crept along the wide corridor, aiming
for the back parking lot and then the waiting school bus. There was
a smear of gum on the bottom of my sneaker. Every other step left a
stretchy pink trail along the asphalt. The black diesel fumes
coming off the line of buses was unbearable.
    My hands were numbed by nerves as I
climbed up the steps of the bus. My gaze wandered down the single
aisle while a commotion rumbled behind me, reminding me that I
should move along as other people were trying to get on, too. I
sipped at my can of Diet Coke, aiming to down it before the
constant summer air warmed it. The line pressed in as I made my way
into the aisle. The bus driver kept the radio on the classic rock
station. The speakers pumped an old power ballad by a band whose
name reminded me of breakfast cereal.
    Quickly scanning for an opening, I
snatched up the last empty bench seat, two spaces behind the
forgettable driver and set my backpack in the spot beside me. The
bus kept filling, the way it always did. Single file, with bland
passing faces, just not the ones I was used to seeing. Some looked
around unsure while others went directly to a particular spot.
Thankfully, hardly anyone took notice of me and the ones who did
didn’t look hostile. The ever present tension in my shoulders gave
way.
    The day had dragged on, relentless,
but only because I was looking forward to seeing Jake. I smiled
into my hand, cupping my chin as I looked out the window into the
school parking lot.
    It