Our July Wandering

The light around the bend grew in intensity. I didn’t have time to focus on the pain of my feet slapping against the pavement. Converse and adrenaline kept me flying down the country road. The moon and appearing headlights were enough to illuminate my soon to be cover. Jumping feet first into the bush I landed squarely on the slim figure of my buddy Zak, already crouched down.

“Get your own bush, Donnie!” he whispered as he started to punch me.

“It's too late! Get off me!” I said, slapping him.

We silenced as the car slowed to a crawl. The car stopped where we were hiding and the sound of the passenger side window lowering gave an ominous hum. We held our breath. Rock music unknown to me crawled from the cabin as if it was searching for us. Then silence, except for the harmony of our hearts pounding in our ears and the idle of the old sedan. Two minutes or an eternity came to an abrupt end as the car peeled away, back into the night. Zak and I crawled out and watched as their tail lights dimmed and flickered out. We continued up the way we ran.

“Did you know that one?” I asked, trying to keep pace.

“No...let's get to the others though,” Zak said, checking over his head making sure the car wasn’t coming back.

Around the corner we ran into Dawlton, Jeremy and Dustin coming to meet us.

“Dude, why'd you guys run so far?” Jeremy said laughing. His bangs stuck to his face with sweat. “We all just hid behind the house.”

“Well I didn’t know where you guys went! I saw the lights coming and you guys were already gone!” I replied, more than a little annoyed. At the same time it felt good to see Jeremy laugh. He never opened up about his home life but we knew something was going on.

“Whatever guys...hey, look Dustin peed his pants!” Dawlton shined his light on Dustin's shorts revealing a large wet mark.

Even though Dustin was the smallest of us, he made up for it in his feisty attitude.

“Bro, I tripped on the lawn and landed on my energy drink!” he exclaimed, slapping the flashlight out of Dawltons hand. We all laughed.

“Let's get to the school before anyone else comes.” I said.

It was about 11:30 P.M. on a warm July night. I told my mom I was spending the night at Dustin’s with Jeremy. The video games and cardboard pizza were always a cover until Dustin's parents went to bed. Once their bedroom door closed, another sliding glass door opened. We would slip into the night and the field of tall grass out behind his house, momentarily checking the house for any lights signaling suspicion.

The eeriness of the Oregon woods eased as long as you were with others. Others with lights that is. Besides, we knew these woods and country roads well enough from countless days on our bikes. This was the highlight of our summer: sneaking up to our school in the middle of the night to find the open door a janitor always forgot to lock. We never vandalized anything. It was more about the thrill of not getting caught. In a redneck town of less than 2,000 people where the big excitement was getting your truck a lift kit, this was pure adolescent adrenaline.

We’d make our way to Dawlton’s house a mile down the road, doing our best to muffle our steps on his gravel driveway. I knocked on his bedroom window illuminated by the small tv playing late night cartoons. It slid open and the large but oddly flexible figure of Dawlton jumped out, followed by the much slimmer figure of Zak.

Once we were together we’d make our mile trek to our small country school. Since we were all about 14 years old, we had to avoid every car that traveled the country roads. We didn’t want to be picked up by the police for breaking curfew and feeling the wrath of our parents; step-parents rather. We all came from broken homes. Some more broken than others. Some more punishing than others.

A few miles later the school lights began to cut through the evergreens. An unholy light leading our pilgrimage to the land of detention, summer school and gym class traumas.

Dustin pulled another energy drink from Dawlton’s backpack, which doubled as the local Snack-E Mart. "Do you guys hear that sound? It's like a hum…"

Though we all heard it, we couldn't give it any more of our attention. The school lights lit up the area and increased our chances of being seen. We eventually came to the side fence of the football field where dogs had dug their own escape routes. Dustin, being the smallest, went first. We took turns holding the fence open. It took a couple of us for Dawlton. As we closed in on the school the murmur became more distinct. We all silenced to see who could hear clearly first.

“I think they are working on the school,” said Zak.

“At midnight?” Jeremy asked. “No, I think it's music.”

“Yeah, it’s like punk music. Did somebody leave the gym sound system on?” I asked, walking ahead.

As we reached the parking lot it was clear it was music. Live punk music.

“Dude, is a band practicing?” I asked as we all stood still again.

“Definitely a band,” Jeremy replied with his pants down his ankles. Once we all realized we howled with laughter. Being pantless was a joke pulled multiple times on these trips.

“Let's get a closer look!” Dawlton said with the most excitement. He was the best musician of all of us. He carried a pair of drumsticks on the inside of his jacket wherever he went.

“I don’t think we should go any farther,” Zak said nervously. “I don’t want to get caught. My stepdad hates me and he’ll kill me.”

“Nobody is going to tell on us if we’re seen,” I lied. “Besides, we can tell on them for practicing the evils of punk rock in a school at midnight.”

We crept closer to the back doors. Whoever they were, they were good. The bass and drums drowned out everything else, but you could still hear the guitar and singer through the sonic fog. We hugged the brick wall leading to the back entrance when a spotlight plastered us. We probably looked like the cover of a brochure to a juvenile detention center.

“Freeze!” yelled a voice.

“It's the white car!” shouted Zak. It wasn't the white car. Even under the bright light you could see the color drain from his face. Dustin's wet spot on his pants were even more apparent and hilarious.

As soon as the lights came on, they were off again. We could hear laughter. A shadow smelling like cigarette smoke started walking up.

“Past your bedtime right?” a deep voice said as the lit cherry brightened.

“We can go.” Zak said, clearly frightened.

“Hey relax man, we aren’t going to do anything. What are you doing up here?”

“We...heard music and followed it.” I said pretending to be brave. Quick glances back and forth told me the group was still deciding whether or not to run.

“Yeah who's playing?” asked Jeremy, who appeared calm that a cigarette smoking shadow was talking to us.

The figure ignored the question and instead asked if we wanted to watch. I immediately felt like we should run, but Dawlton and Jeremy were already following him inside. Dustin followed as I helped Zak realize it was easier to follow along than him walking back alone.

In the light of the school halls I witnessed a much less intimidating figure. He looked to be in his early 20s with sandy blonde hair and tattoo sleeves. He led us to the band room. Opening the door, the first thing that hit us was the smell of cigarettes. The room was filled with smoke. I checked the smoke detectors and saw they were still up, confirming the suspicion they didn’t work anyways. We all filed in slowly and stood at the door. We felt like we were trespassing even though it was our school. Well, we were in a way.

I saw figures with their instruments while squinting through the haze. The usual rows of chairs that lined the middle of the room facing the conductor podium were all stacked high for the summer. In their place was a garden of amps, extension cords, guitar pedals and ashtrays. Four guys around their late teens or early twenties were leaning against their equipment taking a break. They were the garden statues with pyramid spike belts, skate shoes and leather bracelets. On the ground sat a girl in her overalls and a purple bandana tied in her hair. She was painting a large gold flower on the front of the drum set. She turned to look us up and down with an expressionless face. Her eyes were veiled behind light red lenses as she watched for a moment and then returned to her work.

“Come on in guys,” said one of the voices. Which one, I couldn’t tell.

Moving forward to take a seat a cold chill ran down the length of my spine. Something was familiar about them. Really familiar.

“Found them snooping outside; said they heard music and that they wanted to fight us,” said Tattoo Sleeves. The band laughed. We did too, nervously.

The bass player lit a cigarette, “You guys go to school here?”

“Yeah we all go here. Did you guys?” I asked, being distracted by the girl carefully filling her outlined flower with gold paint.

“Yeah, a while ago I guess,” he turned to the drummer. They whispered something and quietly laughed.

There was an awkward silence as the guitarist stood up, took the pick out of his mouth and strapped on his guitar, “Alright guys. Now that our audience is here, let's hit it one more time.”

The girl approached us and sat by Jeremy. He turned and winked at us. The drummer counted them off and they went to it. This was a softer song. Almost melancholy, unlike what we had heard outside. It was clear he was singing to her. She sat there, still expressionless and pulled a pen out of her overall pocket.

We sat there for about 20 minutes listening to their set list. After they finished Zak stood up, “Thanks guys but we need to go.”

The drummer leaned forward. You could tell he was enjoying Zak’s nervousness, “Woah, wait there buddy! Aren’t you going to tell us what you thought?”

“Ye...yeah it's ok,” stammered Zak.

The singer turned to the others and smiled, “Well, you’ll learn to like it one day.''

“Alright cool. Take it easy guys,” said the bass player.

As we were exiting the room the singer spoke up, “Hey, by the way. It's going to be ok guys.” Even through the haze his eyes had a piercing quality. Piercing to make room for his words.

Before we could reply they started their next song. Our exit song.

“Thanks. Bye,” I said knowing they couldn't hear me.

Outside we walked in silence as our eyes adjusted to the dark. We had to keep up with Zak who clearly wanted to be back home.

“What did he mean by that? Who were those gu...What just happened?” I asked.

We made our way back to Dawlton’s, said goodbye and continued to Dustin’s. Sliding the door open, we staked our claims as to where we would be sleeping in the family room. Laying in the dark Dustin broke the silence. “That was weird.”

“Yeah I don’t know what that was all about. But the music was good,” I said, turning my side to the others.

“Look at this,” said Jeremy. He turned on a flashlight to show the back of his hand with a flower drawn on it. The same design as on the drums. “That girl drew this on me while they were playing their song. She told me, ‘marigolds bring hope.’”

As the cool summer breeze drifted through the windows to lull us asleep, I watched as a pair of headlights came and went on the distant road. Was it the white car? Was it the band? As I continued to drift I was comforted by the words of the girl in overalls and light red lenses. They were meant for Jeremy and maybe, in a way, meant for all of us as well.