//------------------------------// // Track 2: Louder Than Hell // Story: Heavy Rock // by CoffeeMinion //------------------------------// Limestone and the small crowd of cafe-goers clapped politely as a trio of freshmen girls stepped off the stage at the far side of the long, darkened room. She turned to Pinkie, who sat with her at the small square table and sported a perplexed grimace beneath pink curls. “You know, that one girl could kinda sing, but I don’t think those other two are gonna go far with it.” Pinkie’s features contorted with what Limestone recognized as the effort of finding something nice to say about the aural travesty they had just experienced. “Gosh are those girls trying hard to find what they’re good at in life, y’know?” “Sure.” Limestone glanced at her watch for what felt like the millionth time. “Well, apparently one thing they’re good at is running long. Maud should’ve had the mic five minutes ago.” Pinkie shrugged. “So can we finally order now? Please?” Limestone sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” She picked up a menu and flipped it open. Her eyes settled on the prices of the entrees before she even processed what they were. The sound of a raucous screech from an electric guitar interrupted her mental beratement of the overpriced cafe food. She brushed a strand of her grey bangs out of her eyes and squinted at the stage. There, spotlights illuminated a young guy with spiky blue hair and a leather jacket who was squatting on a stool and throttling his guitar like it had committed a crime. The guy shifted from aggressive strumming to some kind of pure feedback-y noise. Limestone joined most of the rest of the crowd in hunching down and covering her ears. She looked at Pinkie, who was doing the same. “Who’s this idiot?!” Pinkie winced. “It’s Flash from school… but I’ve never heard him play anything like this before. This song sounds like the end of the world!” Limestone frowned. “Wait… Flash? Isn’t that the kid who Maud kept going on about a while back?” “Sure is,” Pinkie shouted over the racket. “It’s really weird that he would be up there when she’s supposed to be!” As if in reply, Maud plopped down on the chair opposite Pinkie. “There was a mix-up,” she said, setting her spiral-bound notebook down on the table. “I’m sorry. They wrote my name on the walk-in list instead of the pre-registration list when I called earlier.” Limestone studied Maud’s face, spotting hints of stiff-lipped disappointment. “Well, why didn’t you make it clear to the cafe people that they should make it right since they screwed up?” “They have a stringent policy of following the list.” “Yeah yeah, but they screwed up. Why couldn’t you at least explain that to this nimrod who’s stealing your spot?” “Because…” Maud shook her head. “I couldn’t.” Limestone gave her a flat look. “Yes you could, Maud. I don’t care if you used to think he’s hot or something—” “No.” The word was heavy. Final. But the look on Maud’s face was one of defeat rather than anger, however subtly expressed. “I really wanted people to hear this. But now I don’t know if I’ll even get the mic tonight.” Limestone’s lip curled into a snarl. She wanted to tell Maud that it would do her some good to finally talk to this boy she’d spent however long not talking to. She also wanted to say that it didn’t matter anyway; that her poems were never any good, and that it was ultimately merciful to everyone—herself included—that the reading wasn’t going to happen. But then she remembered what she’d said to Maud earlier about the reading, and about the boy, and she felt bad about going even as far as she had. And that made her angry. “They will,” Limestone barked. Pinkie blinked. “Will what?” Limestone stood, then snapped her fingers at Maud. “Notebook.” Pinkie and Maud looked at each other, then at Limestone. Pinkie took her hands off her ears for a moment, but winced at the sound of the boy’s horrible guitar. “Sis, whatever you’re thinking…” Limestone growled. “I’m thinking this loser picked the wrong open-mic night to stage his little thrash-noise revival. Maud, give me the notebook.” “Here,” Maud said, flipping it open and handing it to Limestone. “It’s actually an epic poem of sorts…” “Whatever!” Limestone took it in a death-grip and set off toward the stage. She threaded her way between tables full of displeased-looking teens and young adults, some of whom were gathering their things and trying to hail a waiter so they could pay their check and escape the cacophony. As she approached the stage, Limestone noticed the actual mic-stand had been set off toward the edge; the kid’s guitar was plugged into the restaurant’s sound system, and he wasn’t singing. Limestone’s lips curled into a grim smile as she hopped up next to the kid, grabbed the mic, switched it on, and looked down at the notebook. She scowled at Maud’s “epic poem,” and rued her forgetfulness that for a mousy, rock-obsessed introvert, a surprising amount of what Maud wrote seemed pretty unmistakably phallic. After a sigh of resignation, Limestone breathed deep and made her scratchy voice belt out: Come and tear my heart asunder With your drill of magic wonder I don’t care if we both funder I just wanna feel your thunder Long and hot and running hard Come split my earth and leave it scarred And sink it deep and disregard To e’er withdraw your jagged shard… Limestone turned her eyes to the floor as she forced herself to scream the whole ungodly thing. At some point the music stopped, but Limestone kept on going until the end. She looked up, breathing heavily from the exertion of belting out the “epic poem,” and met Flash’s eyes. He sat on the stool, cradling his guitar, and smiling. “What?” Limestone shouted at him. His grin deepened. “That was awesome!” Limestone raised an eyebrow and sneered. “You’re kidding, right?” Flash shook his head. “No way. You’re the real deal. The voice, the stage presence, and those lyrics! Can I get your number? We gotta jam sometime!” She blinked, and stared into Flash’s eyes. They were a clear light blue, and they twinkled from the sheer force of the smile plastered across his face. Despite her better judgment, the thought that he was cute crept in. A strange feeling washed over Limestone as she turned and looked out at the crowd. Most everyone who hadn’t already been trying to leave was now doing so. Only Maud and Pinkie sat motionless… until Pinkie saw her looking, smiled back, and gave her two-thumbs-up. Somehow she just knew. Limestone snarled audibly as she dispelled the thought of Flash looking cute. Then she advanced on him with an outstretched finger, walking right up to him and giving his chest a thorough, vociferous poking. “No. You know, on second thought you don’t get to tell me what to do here. You think you’re going to pull your pretty-boy act and charm me out of being mad at you for stealing my sister’s spot? ‘Cuz if you do, then let me tell you something: I’ve got some thoughts about where you can shove that guitar, and how deep to shove it, and which-end-first to shove it!” A shadow of doubt flickered over his face, but then he chuckled. “Did you just say I’m pretty?” “I just warned you what I’m gonna do with your guitar!” she shouted. He smiled deeper, which infuriated her; her nostrils flared, her breathing deepened, and she reached forward, gripping the guitar by the neck and tearing it out of his grasp. She swung it overhead, aiming to bash it on the edge of the stage— A strong hand stopped the guitar before it could make contact. Maud. Limestone saw a mixture of panic and disappointment writ across Maud’s very slightly narrowed eyes and almost imperceptibly tightened lips. “What are you doing?” Maud all but hissed. Limestone loosened her grip. Maud lifted the guitar up and away from Limestone, one-handed, from a disadvantageous angle. Her eyes carried the unspoken message that this was an intentional reminder of her very great strength. “Wow,” Flash said, looking at both of them in turn. Limestone turned a tight-lipped rage face on him and sucked in a huge breath, ready to give it to him with both barrels. But Maud pre-empted her, saying: “We’re both very sorry about all of this. My sister got excited by your music. It’s time to get her home.” “No, it’s cool,” Flash interjected. “I’m serious when I say that it’d be great to jam with you. You’ve got killer pipes for punk rock, or hardcore…” He paused, cocking his head. “Maybe even death or screamo. Oh, and then there’s the lyrics!” Limestone looked down at the fallen notebook. “What about them?” “Metal,” Flash said quickly. “Utter metal.” Limestone met Maud’s eyes. “Yeah, well, you realize that—” “My sister is a deep and unappreciated soul,” Maud interrupted. Limestone gawped at her, but Maud continued unabated: “Not all of her lyrics quite capture the same energy as the tour de force you heard tonight, but I know that she has stacks of other notebooks that she’d love to share with someone who appreciates them. Believe it or not, not everybody does.” “Okay, hold on Maud…” Flash nodded. “Sure, I can understand that. I didn’t expect anyone to really care about what I was playing tonight; I just did it for myself.” Limestone watched as Maud and Flash shared a smile. The look they shared was… unexpected. Hard to read, especially in Maud’s case. Maud had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, but she’d never seen that look on Maud’s face. She raised a finger. “Uh, so what exactly am I doing here?” Maud gave her a subtly exasperated look. “My dear silly Limestone, you’re going to go and sing with the nice boy.” “I… am, am I? And you’re…?” Maud smiled. Visibly. “I’m going to listen when you tell me how it goes.”