Free Niagara Motel by Ashley Little Page B

Brian’s pick was sky blue. The real name for a pick is plectrum, pick is just a short form. Brian taught me that. Brian was actually a really nice guy. He’d let us watch TV past nine p.m., which none of the other SODs did. He shared his wine gums with me and he always saved me the black ones because he knew they were my favourite. Brian was in a band called Wax Wings. I’d never seen them live because they played at bars and clubs that only adults can get into, but their demo tape was at the house and I’d heard Meredith playing it a katrillion times. They weren’t the worst band I’d ever heard, but they weren’t the best either. Meredith stared at Brian.
    â€œDo you really think you’re going to make it?” she said. Her face was all shiny and pink.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” He took the pick out of his mouth.
    â€œI mean as a musician. You think you’re going to get famous? Get played on the radio?”
    â€œWell, I don’t know for sure, but I have to try, right?”
    â€œWhy?” she asked.
    â€œWhy what?”
    â€œWhy do you have to try?”
    He played a few chords. “Because then I’ll know that I did everything I could, and I won’t have to wonder.”
    â€œBut won’t you be so disappointed if it doesn’t work out?”
    â€œYeah, I guess,” he nodded. “But there are worse things than being disappointed.”
    Meredith wore a little half-smile. I stared past her and watched a crow hop around on the telephone wire in front of the house. It was okay for people to talk about the future being full of possibility and the future holding good things for them, because the truth is, the future never comes.
    I went inside to make a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. While I was making it, I heard yelling coming from the TV room. Kyle and Shawn were playing foosball and wouldn’t let Dirtbag Daryl play.
    â€œDon’t touch it, shitbucket,” Kyle said.
    â€œI can play if I want,” Daryl said.
    â€œNo,” Shawn said. “You can’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause I’m going to bash your face in with my boot if you come within three feet of this table while we’re playing. Now, fuck off, Dirtbag.”
    I got a glass of milk because milk makes a body good and went into the TV room and sat on the couch to eat my sandwich and watch The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air .
    â€œHey, I’ve got something for you guys,” Daryl said, pulling acrumpled pack of Export A’s out of his pocket.
    â€œWhere’d you get those?” Kyle grabbed for the pack.
    â€œAh-ah! Not so fast. Only if you let me play.”
    â€œSure, you can play,” Shawn said, nodding to Kyle.
    â€œReally?”
    In one quick movement, Kyle had Dirtbag Daryl’s arms pinned behind his back. Kyle tossed the cigarettes to Shawn and Shawn laughed as he took one out and tucked it behind his ear. “Yeah, play with yourself, wanker.”
    â€œYou fuck-off! Those are mine! Give them back!” Daryl screamed. “They’re not yours!”
    â€œThey are now, you dumb shit.” Shawn put the pack in his pocket.
    Brian and Meredith came into the room then, probably to see what all the noise was about. I looked at Dirtbag Daryl. His back was to me and he was hunched over a little, and he seemed to be vibrating, which was not unusual for Dirtbag Daryl. What happened next was in slow motion. Daryl soared toward Shawn with the blade of his Swiss Army knife open. “I’ll cut you! I’ll cut you, you asshole!” Shawn put his palms up as Daryl held the knife to Shawn’s eye. Brian put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and Daryl spun around and plunged the knife into Brian’s neck. I let my sandwich fall to the floor. Kyle, Shawn, Daryl, Meredith, and I stared at Brian as his hands flew to his neck, his blood spraying the walls. The colour drained from his face and he opened