by Kelly Oram
“Well, one of us has to be the bigger man, and—”
“Keep dreaming, Runt,” Chris interrupted with a snort. “You’ll never be the bigger anything.”
“Not true,” Tyler said. “He’ll always be the biggest pain in the butt.”
“Would you guys stop being jerks for two seconds? I’m calling a truce here.”
Tyler snorted. “That’s going to take more than chick coffee. You ditched us.”
I rolled my eyes. “And I don’t regret it. My room—that I have all to myself—is bigger than this one, and that’s not including my private bathroom or my walk-in closet. You’re both overreacting. We haven’t actually shared a room since we were kids, and I live ten minutes away. Stop being immature butt munches and come to the zoo with me today.”
I suppose I deserved the looks they gave me for that statement, but I didn’t back down.
“The zoo?” Tyler asked, while Chris laughed and said, “Did you just call us immature and use the term butt munches in the same sentence?”
I shrugged at Chris. “It fit. And yes, the zoo. Central Park Zoo closes for the winter after this week. We haven’t been there in a few years. I want to go, so stop whining and get dressed—something warm.”
I scrounged up some Tylenol for my brothers while they were showering off last night’s party and let them nurse their lingering hangovers in silence the entire way to Central Park. Once we were in the zoo, they both looked at me. Tyler frowned. “Okay, Runt, this was your bright idea. Where to first?”
I smirked, but before I could respond, Chris elbowed Tyler and said, “We’re going to feed you to the bears.”
“What? Why me? Why not Runt? He’s the one who deserves it.”
Chris laughed. “Because Runt would only be an appetizer for a bear, and you couldn’t take me on your own.”
Tyler rolled his eyes, but there were no more arguments. He headed for the bears without another complaint. So did Chris. I smiled to myself. I knew this would work. When we were younger, we used to come to this zoo with our dad at least once a year on our annual trip into the city. We hadn’t been here for a few years, but if my brothers were feeling the separation anxiety as much as I was—which I suspected they were—then I figured a little nostalgia was exactly what we needed.
“Oh, hey, look!” Tyler slapped me in the gut with the back of his hand. I’d have hit him back, except he was grinning and pointing at the animals like a five-year-old. “They’re about to feed the seals. Come on.”
When we took a seat for the show, my brothers sat on either side of me, squeezing me in the middle. They’d always done that ever since we were kids. I never could figure out why, since they talked more to each other than me. Maybe it was symbolic, me being the middle child and all. More likely, they both just wanted to be able to punch me on a moment’s notice. As if the thought had conjured the abuse, Chris elbowed me. “So that song you sang for your audition, did you write that all by yourself? Like all the parts and stuff?”
I was surprised he’d brought up the subject. I figured both he and Tyler had looked mad—hurt even—after the audition that it would become some elephant under the bed or something. “Yeah.”
He nodded and stuck his fingers in his mouth to let out a loud whistle as one of the seals jumped out of the water and touched his nose to a pole. I think he was cheering more for the hot trainer in the wet suit than the seal. Once whistling turned to clapping, he elbowed me again. “It was pretty sick.”
I guess Chris didn’t have the same standards that my professors had. But if he wanted to say my song was awesome, I wasn’t going to argue with him.
“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” Tyler agreed, then immediately punched me in the arm. “I can’t believe you played without us.”
“Ow!” That was going to leave a bruise. I glared at him as I rubbed my arm. “It’s not like I wanted to. I called you guys for three days straight when I got invited to audition. I only had two weeks to come up with something. I couldn’t wait for you to pull your heads out of your butts and answer your phones.”
Tyler scowled but had no good comeback, so he turned his pout on the animals. Chris reached across me and, with a scoff, knuckle-punched Ty’s leg. Tyler let out a curse that earned the three of us a handful of nasty looks from the teachers sitting in front of us with their grade-school students. I smirked when his face turned pink. “Sorry,” he muttered, glaring at Chris. “What was that for?”
“I told you we should have just talked to him.” He frowned at me. “The song was awesome, but your drummer sucked. What was up with that?”
I sighed. “That’s Mark. He was the only one I could find on such short notice. My friend Austin, who played the piano for me, knows him from some of his classes. The guy is a classical major. He normally plays the tympani drums in the orchestra, but he’s learning his way around a basic drum kit just for fun.”
Chris nodded. “Smart move, if he ever wants to get a girlfriend. You should ditch the dude and let me play for you.”
“I would, but I really can’t. Mark’s a student, too. The showcase is a huge deal for music majors. I can’t just take this opportunity away from him after I’ve already asked him to join me.” Chris nodded again as if he understood, but the frown on his face made me feel like I needed to make it up to him somehow. “I can still teach you guys the song, though. When I get some time, maybe over Christmas break, we can start writing our own stuff and put together an original set for Triple Threat.”
Chris glanced sideways at me, so I held up a fist and waited for him to bump it—our symbol of acceptance. He looked at my fist, then back at me. I held his stare until he relented and pressed his knuckles to mine. Once he gave in, I lifted my other fist to Tyler. “Come on, dude,” I said when he scowled at my fist.
Tyler cracked, slamming his fist against mine with a grunt of disapproval. “You’re still a pain in the butt.”
I smirked. “Takes one to know one.”
After the seals were good and fed, we finally headed for the bears. Tempting as it was, we didn’t actually feed Tyler to them. “Next?”
I grinned at Chris. “I was thinking the children’s zoo, so Ty can pet the goats.”
“Oh, dude!” Chris howled. “Brilliant call, Runt.”
Tyler dug his heels into the ground. “Oh, no! No way!”
Chris and I busted into obnoxious laughter. Tyler had an irrational fear of goats. It never stopped being funny. I clamped my arm down on Tyler’s shoulder. “Man up, little brother. It’s time to face your fears.”
Tyler shoved me away from him. “If you even try it, I’m getting you a tarantula for Christmas.”
I snorted. “At least spiders are something you’re supposed to be afraid of,” I said as Chris and I began dragging him through the zoo. “But goats? It’s pathetic.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tyler shuddered. “Have you ever heard those ugly little freaks scream? It’s creepy.”
Chris laughed and grabbed him by one arm. I quickly grabbed his other one. It took all my strength to keep a hold on him once he started struggling, but I was determined. If he could hold me down to let some girl slobber all over me, then I could throw him to the goats.
“You guys, come on. This is so not funny.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Seriously, Runt. What did I do to you?”
“Besides frying my computer and then acting like a total baby for the past few weeks and blowing off all my calls?”
“Hey! It wasn’t just me. Chris did it, too.”
“Yeah, but he was just following your lead, wasn’t he? And he’s not the one who threw all my stuff in the hall where it could get ripped off.”
Chris was more than happy to rat Tyler out. “True. That was all him. Plus, I’m the one who dragged him to your audition. He wasn’t going to come.”
“Chris, you traitor!”
Chris smirked. “And proud of it, goat boy. Now stop fighting us, or we’ll record your
shame when we throw you in with the goats and you start screaming like a little girl.”
I laughed. “Please. You know we’re going to do that anyway.”
Since I was light on homework for the weekend, I decided to get an early jump on writing a new song for the showcase. I had almost eight weeks to come up with something amazing and unique that would “set me apart” from all the other performers.
Whatever that meant.
After spending the whole morning locked up in my room trying to come up with something that didn’t sound generic, I needed a break and some inspiration. Since it was noon, I decided I might find said inspiration in the refrigerator. I was still staring into it a minute later, when Jordan came through the door. “Nate? You home?”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“Having a standoff with the fridge, I see.” Jordan grinned at me from the entrance to the kitchen. “Nothing calling your name?”
I shut the fridge door with a sigh. “I just needed a break. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully all morning to get started on a new song.”
Jordan’s face softened sympathetically. “Stuck?”
“Not exactly. I’ve come up with some ideas for lyrics, but none of them do me any good because I haven’t figured out a sound yet. I need something different and unique; I’m just not exactly sure what that is.”
“Hmm.” Jordan frowned in thought as she took off her hoodie and hung it on the coatrack by the front door. “You know what you need?”
I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “Let me guess. I need to watch a movie. And you just happen to have the perfect one about a guy who has to write a song and he’s stuck.”
Jordan crinkled up her nose, pouting. “You’ve already seen it?”
“Shut up.” I laughed. “I was being sarcastic. You do not have a movie about a guy who needs to write a song and is stuck.”
Jordan headed to the wall-o-DVDs in the living room and, after a quick search, pulled one off the shelf. She handed over the case with a smug smile. “I’ll see your sarcasm and raise you an IN YOUR FACE! Boom! I’m the movie master.”
The movie was called Music and Lyrics. It starred Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant. I’d never heard of it, but after reading the summary, I learned it was, in fact, about a guy who needed to write a song and was stuck.
“He’s even on a time crunch,” Jordan said. “An even worse one than yours. He only has a week.”
I looked at my roommate and her smile tripled in size. She definitely had me, so I did the only thing I could do. I bowed down to the movie master. “All right, Spielberg, you win. Everything has been done in the movies, and today I’m Hugh Grant.”
“Actually, you’re both of them—the sexy Hugh Grant and the adorable Drew Barrymore—because you are both sexy and cute and you’ve got to come up with both the music and the lyrics.”
Groaning at the reminder, I headed back to the kitchen. The fridge hadn’t held the answers, but maybe I’d have better luck with the pantry. “So what did they do when they were stuck? I need all the help I can get.”
Jordan plopped down on one of the barstools at the counter and watched me rummage. “They took breaks. They went for walks, they ate, and they stopped thinking about it for a while. Oh, and there was lots of coffee involved, and at one point they rearranged the furniture.”
“They rearranged the furniture?”
“A change of scenery is always good.” Jordan shrugged. “But ultimately they fell for each other, and it was the love that really inspired them. Love always does act as a perfect muse.” She sighed all dreamy, and then frowned as a new thought occurred to her. “Of course, so does hate. Emotion of any kind, really. The stronger the feelings you’re channeling, the more powerful the story, or film, or painting, or song. So maybe you need some girlfriend therapy to get the creative vibes flowing for you.”
I sighed. Sophie was a lot of good things, but she’d never really been a great muse.
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
I was surprised when I realized her uh-oh was directed at me. “What? No.”
She gave me a look that suggested I was full of crap. The look caused me to sigh again, and I fell to the couch. “It’s nothing too much. We’re just…I don’t know. There’s a lot of tension. Things have been different since school started.”
“Are you sure you’re really right for each other?” Jordan asked, joining me on the couch.
I slid her a glance. “Now you sound like my brothers. And Pearl.”
“I sound like Pearl?” Jordan cringed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Slap me. I need it. Seriously. I never want to sound like Pearl.”
I laughed, and a silence settled between us. Jordan quickly broke it. “I promise not to meddle, but just know that whatever happens between you and Sophie, I’m here for you.”
She patted my leg, and I patted the top of her hand. “Thanks. And I’m here for you, too.” My voice turned teasing. “Today’s the big date, right?”
“Big date?” Jordan asked, startled.
I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “The soccer game with Junior?”
Since we were sitting Jordan couldn’t kick me in the shin, so she settled for slapping my arm. “Shut up. It’s not a date.”
“It is to him.” I nudged her with my elbow. “You should give him a chance.” I’d gotten to know Junior a little better since moving in with Jordan. He wasn’t the guy she’d made him out to be that first night; he wasn’t really a player. “Yeah, he’s a little different, but he’s a good guy. He’s got a good heart inside, and he’s crazy about you.”
And that was the truth. The guy was smitten with Jordan. I wasn’t all that crazy about Jordan dating anyone—a strange side effect of deciding to look out for her that I hadn’t expected—but of anyone I knew, Junior was the only one good enough for her. She wouldn’t go for it, though. She didn’t see him that way.
“I considered it for a while, before I met Greg,” she admitted. “There’s just nothing there for me. He’s a good guy, and a good friend, but that’s it.”
I didn’t know how to argue with her. I couldn’t force feelings on her. I was strangely relieved when she shot the idea down, though. “Well, just be careful today, then, because I’m not kidding; Junior is head over heels for you. Don’t lead him on.”
Jordan let out a heavy breath and leaned her head on my shoulder. We sat there a moment, enjoying the peace and quiet and one another’s company, and then Jordan slapped my thigh. “This isn’t helping.” She jumped to her feet. “We’re supposed to be inspiring you, not depressing you. I have a couple hours before I have to leave for the game. You want to order in some lunch and watch Music and Lyrics? It’s really good, I promise. And it might spark that inspiration you’re looking for.”
“Actually.” I took the DVD from her and stuck it back on the shelf, having been struck with a different kind of inspiration. “I have a better idea. We can still order some lunch, but instead of watching a movie, it’s time we got started on finding you a favorite song. I’ll bring my computer out here and we can start building a Jordan playlist while we have lunch.”
Jordan considered the plan for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But we are going to watch that movie at some point. We have to. It’s too you not to.”
“Deal. I’ll go grab my computer. I can plug it right into the sound system hooked up to your TV. The sound quality will be excellent.”
Jordan grinned. “Just the way I like it. Why don’t you figure out something for lunch while I go shower off the morning shift, and then we can get to work. This is going to be more frightening than you realize.”
I laughed as I rose to my feet. “I promise my expectations are pretty low, Jordan.” She rolled her eyes. “Thai sound good?”
“You know I’m always up for something spicy.”
“As long as you chase it with ice cream.”
Jordan grinned. “How well you know me,” she said, and disappeared into her bedro
om.
By the time Jordan came back, showered and dressed in her favorite Rob Loxley jersey—who I’d learned was her high school soccer coach that had played pro soccer until he was forced to quit due to a knee injury—I had my laptop and a nice spread of Thai cuisine set up on the coffee table in the living room.
“Okay, we have about an hour and a half before Junior shows up.” She plopped down on the floor next to me and dug straight into the plate I’d set out for her. “So where do we start?”
I pulled up my iTunes on my laptop. “Well, what’s your favorite genre?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged and stuck a forkful of noodles in her mouth.
I tried not to gape at her. I’d expected musical ignorance, but she was right. This was more frightening than I’d realized. “You really don’t even know what genre you prefer? Rock, pop, alternative, techno, dance, R&B, rap, new age, instrumental…?”
“I’m not even sure what different genres there are. I know a bunch of movie composers, but that’s about it.”
“What about songs? Has there ever been a song that you’ve heard and liked?”
“Not really—oh! Wait! What was that one in the V is for Virgin movie? I liked that one.”
I snorted a laugh. “Figures the only song you know is one from a movie.”
“What? It’s a good movie.”
“I know. I’ve actually seen that one. Tralse was one of my favorite bands before they broke up, and Kyle Hamilton’s solo stuff is awesome. My brothers and I do a lot of covers of their stuff.”
Jordan leaned back against the couch and took a long sip of root beer. I think she was the only person I knew that consistently drank root beer over Coke or Pepsi. But then she drank enough coffee it wasn’t like she needed the caffeine, and she did have a crazy sweet tooth.
“I met them once, you know. Kyle and Val, I mean.”
