One
“Guys!” The
noise in the room made it almost impossible for Jake to get everyone’s
attention. “Guys!” he yelled
louder. One by one they stopped their
chatting and stared at him. “Thank
you. Now this is the last practice
before the contest.” Jake placed his
mike down and sat with the rest of the band.
“Remember that we have to be checked in by eight. We are meeting here at seven. Please don’t be late.”
“Are we really wearing those silly suits that your
mom found for us?”
“Yes. Oh and
if you show up before seven Mom said she’d make breakfast.”
“But there so retro,” Vic whined.
“Yeah like something out of the 80’s,” Kollin added.
Jake’s band mates were like his brother’s. Victor Cole was the youngest, but only by a
month. The rest of the guys, Kollin
Baughman, Robbie Kent and Wyatt Pratt all had birthdays just days apart. Jake was the oldest by only a year.
As they got older they realized that they were all
born as a result of a snowstorm that ripped through the small rural town they lived
in. All of them that is except Jake.
He joined the group when he moved to Berne his first
grade year. The smartest in their grade
the boys were quickly named the “wise ones”, hence the name of the band, the
“Y’s 1’s”.
“They’re supposed to be retro.” Jake wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t let the
subject of the suits go. “Just remember
to be here tomorrow by seven, fully dressed in the suits my mom picked out.”
“Fine,” Kollin conceded.
“Night,” Vic said picking up his stuff.
“See ya tomorrow.”
Jake said shutting the door behind his friends. He sat in the still of the basement. He couldn’t figure out why it felt like his
life was about to make a major change, maybe not for the better.
The next morning seemed to fly by for the guys. After they were all dressed in the suits
with their skinny ties and coordinating colors they did look really sharp.
They all road over in Vic’s dads van with all of
their equipment. They’d find out what
time slot they’d gotten when they arrived at the community center.
“Stay in the van,” Jake said hopping out. “I’ll find out where we have to go and be
right back.”
He walked into the small community center and was
amazed at all the people. There was a
table set up for check-in. “Hello I’m
Jake Wagner with the Y’s 1’s.”
The young man sitting at the table scanned the
list. “You’re up first.”
“First!”
“Yep. Just
need a signature. You are 18 aren’t
you?”
“Yes.” The
guy shoved a pen and paper at him.
“What’s this for?”
Jake asked trying to read all the legal jumbo.
“Mostly it just gives us permission to tape you.”
“What for?”
“I think it goes to record exes or something. Just sign it!” The guy said impatiently.
Jake quickly signed the paper. “Now what?”
“Get set up.
You’re on in half an hour.”
Jake ran out to the van. “What is it?” Wyatt asked.
“We’re first.”
Jake said beaming. It was
happening and there was no turning back now.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Robbie said from the
back of the van.
“No time now Rob.
We can’t go on without a drummer.”
The performance went off without a mistake. All the practicing had paid off. The only let down was when they didn’t
win. An all girl group with a borrowed
old song and copied choreography took home the prize.
“I told you these suit sucked!” Vic pouted. He took off his tie and flung it at Jake.
“C’mon Vic we took a second.” Wyatt said trying to
bring out the good in the situation.
Jake sat fuming from his spot in the passenger’s
seat. How could those girls win out over us?
We wrote our own song. Life
sucks! This was Jake’s life. He lived and breathed music ever since he
could remember. He’d been singing in
the choir at church since he was old enough to memorize the words to the
songs. He played the piano, which he
more or less taught himself. Why didn’t this work? It could have been his big break. Second just wasn’t good enough for him. He was never second.
Jake was the first to be dropped off. When he entered the house it was quiet and
he thought maybe his mother wasn’t home.
He found himself sitting at the piano and messing with a tune. Before long the tears began to fall. He hated losing. He was sobbing by the time Cierra came in. She wrapped a motherly arm around his
shoulders and allowed Jake to cry, something that hadn’t happened much in his
short eighteen years.
When his sobs were nothing more than an occasional
whimper Cierra asked, “Did you lose?”
“Not really, but we did.”
“I don’t understand, sweetie,” she said pushing his
hair out of his eyes.
“We didn’t get first place. We came is second.
Second!” He stood up and walked
across the room. “Second isn’t any better
than losing!” Jake left the room.
Maybe I was
really wrong to let him join this band.
She remembered what being in a group had been like for his father. Maybe
I should contact Jake’s father. Maybe
he can help him understand better. Cierra wasn’t sure what she should
do. If she did contact Jake’s father
would he want anything to do with her or for that matter Jake?
