Page 57 of Down Beat
I shift my gaze to Kris and sigh. “Fucking better.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, still set on silent. I twist onto my left hip and dig it out. A little bit of me hopes it’s Tabby. The bigger part of me knows it wouldn’t be.
Still can’t hurt to check.
Mom. Shit.
I lunge from the beanbag and stalk out the exit, much to Kris’s interest. Toby stands in the middle of the grassy parking lot, phone to his ear.
“You still on the phone to her?” I holler as I approach. “Couldn’t fucking let me sort this out myself?”
He turns his back to me, still talking.
“Hey!” I shunt the heel of my hand into the back of his shoulder, forcing him forward a step.
He spins on me with nothing short of murder in his eyes. “Hold on.” His hand slides over the end to cover the mouthpiece. “She messaged this morning after seeing you on Facebook, so I’m doing what you should have and reassuring her that she doesn’t need to check your fucking life insurance is up to date.”
“Fuck you all.” I back away, head shaking. “You’re all so convinced that that’s where I’m headed again, huh?”
“Aren’t you?”
Maybe. I don’t know. That’s the glorious thing about being bipolar: you never know what you’re going to get week to week. Life is literally a box of fucking chocolates.
“Should we find out?” I run for the scaffolding that supports the rear of the stage.
Toby hurriedly talks into the phone before disconnecting.
I eye the goddamn structure, breaking it down like a kid would the jungle gym, and then start to climb.
“What are you doing, Rey?”
“Seeing if I feel like trying to fly,” I yell back as I make it past head height.
“Get down!”
I catch Kris in my periphery as he wanders out of the tent to see what’s going on.
“All you’re doing is proving how fucking immature you are!” Toby yells.
I lean off the structure, held in place by one arm hooked around the pipe steel. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You think I’m a joker, always fucking around, never taking anything seriously.”
“Show me otherwise,” he hollers. “Get down here and fucking prove you’re not.”
I climb higher, my boot slipping as I take another step. Adrenaline charges my veins. I can see over the fucking back boundary fence of the stadium from here. “Ever wonder why I act like a clown?” I yell. “Ever wonder why I get blind drunk?”
Toby throws his hands up at his sides, neck craned to see me. Kris lights a cigarette.
I twist around to face them, elbows hooked over the steel behind me as I lean out over the dizzying height. “Because it’s easier than being me,” I say with a mixture of humor and sadness. “It’s easier than having you all feel sorry for me, easier than seeing the same fucked-up pity you, Cassie, Mom, and Dad would give me when we were kids.” I let my arms slide out, the thrill and the danger making my skin feel charged with electricity as I hold on to the scaffolding by just my fingertips. “It’s easier to be who everyone expects you to be than what they don’t understand.”
“Fuck, Rey! Be careful!”