Free Struts & Frets by Jon Skovron Page B

“That. I think your songs are awesome.”
    â€œEven though you can’t remember how to play them?” I asked.
    â€œYeah,” said Rick. “That’s why I’m bringing it up.Because it’s my fault that I can’t remember them. I just haven’t worked on them enough. And what I’m saying is that Joe hasn’t either. He just doesn’t want to admit it, so he’s blaming you.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “I mean, he’d probably say that stuff even if he loved my songs.”
    â€œMaybe he says it
more
when he likes them.”
    â€œI guess. Of course, I know they aren’t brilliant, you know?”
    â€œSammy—”
    â€œNo, really. I’m still trying to figure out how to do it. I know that. I think it would help if we rehearsed more. And I feel kind of limited because I know there’s some stuff I want to write that he would never sing because it’s too emo or whatever.”
    â€œSammy? Emo? No way!” Rick said.
    â€œDo you think TJ is mad at me?”
    â€œTJ will get over it,” said Rick. “But you have to decide what you’re going to do about Fiver.”
    â€œI really don’t know what to do. For real.”
    â€œDo you think she’s hot?”
    â€œI’ve never thought about it before,” I said. “She was just my friend, you know?”
    â€œYou gotta start thinking about it.”
    â€œWhy? Why can’t I just pretend you never said anything and go on being exactly like I was?”
    â€œWell, first of all, there’s TJ,” said Rick. “He’s only going to wait so long and then he’s going to ask her out.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “And also, Fiver. She’s only going to wait for so long before she gives up on you and finds someone new.”
    â€œShe told you that?”
    â€œOf course not. She’s convinced she’ll wait as long as it takes or she’ll never date anyone. But I know better. And you know better. Fiver is not going to put up with this bullshit forever.”
    â€œI know.”’
    â€œAnd it
is
bullshit, you know?” He leaned forward a little. “We’ve all be waiting for you two to hook up for years.”
    â€œWho’s ‘we’?”
    â€œAll of us. Shit, even your mom is waiting for it.”
    â€œYou haven’t talked to my mom about—”
    â€œOf course not. I’m just saying that it’s so obvious to everyone else that there’s something there. Chemistry, magnetism, mojo. Whatever. It’s present.”
    â€œI guess,” I said, swirling the wooden stir stick in my coffee. “But it’s just so . . . weird.”
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œThinking about her like that. She’s my friend.”
    â€œAre you seriously expecting me to believe that?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat you’ve never thought of her as anything other than a friend?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou would swear to me that you never once thought of her while jerking off.”
    â€œJesus!”
    â€œI’m serious. Can you tell me that?”
    I said nothing.
    â€œExactly,” said Rick, tapping the table like he had just scored a major point. “Now, look. Let me tell you what your real problem is.”
    â€œOh, this’ll be good,” I said.
    â€œYour problem is this: You freak out about the tiniest little stuff. You get all passionate and intense naming a stupid band or thinking about whether your favorite singer sold out or whatever. It’s like life or death to you. But then when it comes to really important stuff, you totally puss out. It’s like too much and you overload or something. It’s time to grow some huevos, amigo. Be a man.”
    â€œWhat about you?” I asked.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWhen are you going to ask somebody out?”
    â€œThat’s totally