The next few weeks were a horrible routine of waking up, going to school and never cutting a single class, going home, doing my homework, doing my chores, eating dinner with my parents, and then going to bed early. No calls, no leaving the house, no social life at all. I hadn’t made any friends at school.

October rolled around: no fun, no friends, only utter boredom and frustration. I spent hours throwing a bouncy ball at the wall, catching it, throwing it back. I was playing my new Descendents CD; James had got it for me when it came out in September, to cheer me up… It reminded me of Speed. I pretty much just played Everything Sux on repeat, which pissed off my mom.

I hurled the little blue ball at my wall, right in between the two windows, and it came hurling back. My face was stuck in a permanent scowl. The music was reminding me too much of my old friends, especially Speed, but I kept it on anyway.

My mom had a new job, at this organic foods store, and she wanted me to try and get a job there, too, so I had something to do, but I said no. Lining up cabbages and shit all day long, even for money? Hell no. And my mom worked there.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when my mom screamed from the kitchen: “Can you turn it down? I’m trying to cook!”

“I just fuckin’ turned it down, Mom!” I screamed back, pelting the innocent bouncy ball as violently as I could. It narrowly missed the window and slapped back into my hands just as violently as it had left them.

I could hear her muttering, complaining, to James. She was sick of me hanging around the house, especially on weekends when she didn’t work and wouldn’t let me go out. What can I say? I was insufferable! So insufferable that, apparently, even my own mother hated me.

I got bored of my endless ball game, and flung the damned ball into my closet. It never bounced back.

I strode out into the kitchen. “Is dinner almost ready?” I asked my mom, who was stirring a pot of soup on the stove.

“Yup,” she murmured. “Almost.”

I sat down at the table beside James, kicked my feet up onto the table. I rocked back and forth in boredom, running a hang through my tangled hair. I was procrastinating on washing it.

“I know you’re bored, Elena, but you gotta do the time.” James folded up his newspaper and set it down on the table. “And take your feet off the table.”

I groaned, my feet hitting the floor. I was tired of being lonely, bored, and pissed off. I was especially tired of missing my friends- my best friends, my only friends. 

The next morning, as I got ready to leave for school, I got an idea. It wasn’t exactly a new idea, it was actually a recurring one, an idea which I got periodically since I was eleven years old. And it was a bad one.

I slunk into my parent’s bedroom, grabbed forty bucks from James’ wallet, and all the cash in my mom’s, which was only about fifteen dollars. He was in the shower, and my mom was making coffee. I slid the money into my bra, and stuffed cassettes and clothing into my backpack rather than textbooks.

“Bye,” I called to my mom as I hastily put on my shoes. “I’m going to school.”

“Already?” I heard her call from the kitchen. “Alright, see you later. Remember, no leaving the house after school!”

“I know!” I slammed the door shut behind me and began to walk to the bus station. I know, it wasn’t a very well thought out plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. Actually, no, I had no plan. I was acting solely on impulse.

The next thing I knew, I was on a south-bound bus with Screaming Trees playing on my walkman, Mark Lanegan’s voice keeping fearful anxiety from raising my heart rate.

I stared out the window, Pleasant Grove already long gone. I’d pulled this card on my parents before, but I always went back after a few hours, one day at most. I was glad that I was wearing my dad’s old, stained hoodie on that day. It was raining again.

I don’t know why I left, but I was bored. That’s probably why, actually.

I rode that bus until around two-thirty in the afternoon, and I ended up in some town, with a huge beach, right near the border to the States.

The very first thing I did was find a pay phone, and the very first person I called was Speed. He was the most likely to answer, since he had a cell phone, anyway.

“Hey?”

“Speed, guess where I am!” I just about squealed with excitement.

“Layne, gorgeous? Where are ya?”

“I don’t even fuckin’ know.” I giggled, drunk on freedom. “I ran away. I went on some bus. I’m south, right near the States!”

“Wait, what?” I heard him swear, almost inaudibly, under his breath.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He paused, then: “What the hell are you gonna do there?”

I thought about it for a second. “I dunno. I’ll find something to do.”

“What about money?”

“Jesus, what are you, my mom?” I laughed. “I’ve got money. I mean, not enough, but I’ve got money…_ _I’ll be fine, Speed- unless you wanna drive down here?”

“What?” He paused for a long moment, and then asked, “Well, how long’s the drive?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Like, seven hours or something crazy like that. I don’t even know.”

“What’s the name of the damn place? I’ll come on down tomorrow, if I can.”

“Really?” I grinned, looking around wildly for a sign, a map, anything to tell me the name of the place. I asked a stranger what the name of the town was; his reply was, “Sovernon.” So, that’s what I told Speed.

“Alright.” I could hear him writing it down. “See you on Friday. Call me, okay, on Friday?”

“Of course.”

“See ya.” He hung up.

I still felt drunk on my freedom, and wandered around Sovernon, in the cool, autumn sunshine that seemed so rare in Pleasant Grove- ironically enough.

I carefully examined every flyer on every bulletin board, searching for interesting-looking people to talk to. Flyers advertised all sorts of things: yard sales, fire wood, newspapers, et cetera. Absolutely nothing of interest, which disappointed me. Until, as I walked past a bar, I spotted the type of advertisement that did interest me.

On a plain white sheet of paper, in large, all lower-case, typed black text: hardcore underground, october 10-13, doors open at 9, music at 9:30~ bands include: the paranoids, sleze, and eye twitch. Then, below that, an address and a footnote that read: the more the merrier.

I pulled my backpack off my shoulders and dug for a pen, and, when I found one, I scrawled the address down on my hand. Today is the tenth, I thought to myself, I wonder why they are starting on a Thursday?

Then, my stomach grumbled; I hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, and it was probably nearly four in the afternoon. It would probably be dark in about an hour, so I had to get moving.

I ambled around the slowly darkening streets, backpack making my shoulders ache. I stopped in a gas station to clean up a bit in the bathroom, because, after the seven-hour long bus drive, I frankly stunk. I shoplifted some gum and sat on the sidewalk outside the gas station, chewing hungrily.

Eventually, as it got darker and colder, I fled to one of those 24/7 fast food places, and bought the cheapest burger on the menu, as I couldn’t waste a dollar.

I ate my burger slowly, hanging around for as long as possible. The population of that fast food place was full of people who wanted to hang around as long as possible. Men with huge, tangled beards in grimy jackets and wet toques; women in fishnets and high-cut dresses with heavy raincoats over top; small, impoverished families gnawing on shared french fries, shivering from too-thin clothing and, seemingly, too-thin skin.

I pulled my hood up over my head, just sitting there, alone, until the little, happy yellow clock on the wall told me that it was just about nine. I asked the cashier if she knew where the place was, and she said she didn’t know for sure, but directed me downtown anyway.

I wandered around in the dark, chilly downtown of Sovernon, wandering to the very edges of downtown, until I found it: a quite spacious, two-story, lit-up building on the side of the road, with a large black-painted sign with white spray-paint stating: Hardcore Underground Records + Bar + Live Music. The small parking lot was already packed, groups of people walking inside. It was definitely a scene to behold- beautiful, fun, and something absolutely impossible in Pleasant Grove.

I stashed my backpack in a shrub near the parking lot- there wasn’t much of value in it, besides a couple cassettes that I adored, but it didn’t matter. Then, I strode on into the place.

People, all older than me, were drinking, smoking, playing pool, hanging out and waiting for the band to start. There was a bar, but I spotted lots of people who could be seventeen at most. The first band was already on a small stage at the back of the room, setting up their stuff and whatnot.

This place was new. This place was exciting. I liked this place.