Torn

8

Big and brown, the featureless walls and huge windows covered with protective metal grids made Argus High School look more like a three-story factory than it did an educational institute. It had one of the lowest percentages of graduates who went on to college in the state, and an even lower percentage of students who graduated, period. It was shaped, appropriately enough, like a big L.

The first thing Devin noticed upon his return to its hallowed halls were posters on the walls.

Though Devin had never officially said he wanted back in the band, he’d never said no, either. A strange enthusiasm about the ghost song and the big club date had taken over his band-mates, even Cheryl, so he, as usual, had shut up and gone along for the ride. It wasn’t so bad, he realized now. The posters were pretty cool—respectful but edgy. The art he recognized as Cheryl’s, but it seemed like some of the phrasing had to be Cody’s. And maybe it would be for Karston, in a way.

The second thing he noticed as he walked down the crowded halls toward homeroom was that people were stopping their conversations to gawk at him. They weren’t pitying looks, exactly. There was something else in their eyes: a respectful curiosity. The stares were familiar, but Devin couldn’t quite place them until he realized they were the same kind of looks he’d gotten when he’d left the stage at Tunnel Vision. It felt…good, but he didn’t quite want it to.

Fear of another attack from the Slits was a vague tingle at best. After the meth bust, Nick and Jake turned state witness, which led to ten more arrests. There were still no charges for the murder, though. Devin had been asked to look at a lineup, and while one short muscular hood had looked hauntingly familiar, he couldn’t quite square him with what he’d seen leaping about his kitchen. He gave the police a maybe, but in his own mind, Devin was now convinced the shadows had played tricks on him. A Slit had killed Karston. It had to be.

In any case, the gang had been effectively gutted both by the police and a storm of publicity. Their colors hadn’t been seen on the streets in days. Devin knew that it wasn’t because Karston had been killed; it was because Karston had been killed in Meadowcrest Farms. Knowing that made him sick.

Down the hall, by the entrance to the gym, he spotted Cheryl, wearing cute green shorts and a T-shirt. She was using an open stapler to put up more posters. Happy to see her, he sped up, about to call her name, when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see a few guys and some girls staring at him. One of the boys, a gangly sort with long hair, a faded jacket, and a noticeable slump, nodded at Devin, then toward one of the posters on the wall.

“You’re in that band? You’re in Torn?” he said with a bit of a slur.

Devin nodded. They all smiled slightly and nodded back in tandem, saying things like “Cool” and “All right.” The wave of approval from people he didn’t know at all was strong and strange. Devin started to feel really good about it in spite of his reservations. In fact, it was probably the first time he’d felt good since Karston died.

What should he say to them? Cody was good at this kind of thing, but he was home these days. “So, you coming to the show?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too lame.

The nodding became more enthusiastic.

“Yeah.”

“You bet.”

“You guys rock.”

Well, that was easy.

He tried to keep cool, but a small smile curled his lips. Before he could say anything else though, another hand found his shoulder and gently pulled him around.

“See?” Cheryl said. “You’re famous now.”

“Right,” Devin said.

“No. Enjoy it,” she said. She kissed him. “But don’t forget the rest of us mortals.”

With that, she wandered off down the halls, the tops and bottoms of the posters in her hand rising and falling as she went, earning her own respectful stares.

Devin turned back to his small group, his smile now full blown.

“And did you write that song on the site? About the angels?”

“Yeah, it’s mine.”

Except for that chorus Cody added…

“And you’re gonna sing it at the show?”

“That’s the idea. Well, Cody will sing it.”

“The guy who got kicked out. Yeah, that’s what I meant.” But then the gangly kid took a nervous step closer and whispered, “So are all the rumors true, man?”

You mean about the ghosts on the video? I’ll have to be careful about that one—Cody wants our “legend” to build. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

“What rumors do you mean?” Devin said, trying to seem innocent.

“You know,” the kid said with a knowing smirk. “That you killed that loser Karston just to get his bass.”

That afternoon, Devin and Cheryl sat at “their” place, a huge rock just outside town, watching white clouds roll and billow in the blue sky. The rock was atop a low hill that sat at the edge of an abandoned development. Construction had stopped due to bankruptcy. The roads there were dirt, leading to various holes in the ground that had been dug out by backhoes for concrete foundations that were never poured, and then left to collapse or fill with rainwater. At their backs, new McMansion rooftops peeked through thinner woods that sat along the dirt road, but ahead of them, the forest began.

Cheryl tried to comfort him, hugging him steadily. “It’s just a stupid rumor,” she said.

“Yeah? Later in the day some other kids said they heard we’d sacrificed Karston to a demon in exchange for a killer song. It’s all just too weird.”

“There’ve been so many hits on the site, the server crashed again,” she said, nudging him.

“It’s not because the song’s any good—it’s because Karston died,” Devin answered. “Is this how you want to make it big?”

“But the song is good. It’s great. The rest is just an accident. You’ve got to believe in it, Devin. I do.”

He said nothing.

Finally, she shrugged. “Maybe you should think about something else. At least the police unsealed the crime scene and let you back into your house.”

Devin wanted to laugh at the irony. “We were better off at the hotel. Mom swears she can still see Karston’s blood on the kitchen tiles, and she’s got enough tranquilizers in her to stop a bull elephant. It’s like a freaking scene from Macbeth. I try to convince her it’s just the stains from the filet mignon that we…that I…” Devin paused. “Christ, Cheryl, it could’ve been you.”

She pulled him close again. “No. You would have protected me.”

Would he? Would he have done any better a job if it had been Cheryl?

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s been great, attentive, supportive. Even took time from work just to be with us. I didn’t know he had it in him. And then last night, he even told me I shouldn’t give up on the band because of…”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Devin stared off. Nothing had been normal since the killing. His time with Cheryl now was supposed to be a normal thing, and it wasn’t turning out normal at all.

“So what’d you tell him?” Cheryl asked. He’d nearly forgotten she was there.

“About what?”

“Torn. You’ve never actually said you want the group to go on. Do you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to decide.”

Nothing new about that, though, is there?

He looked at her, her skin shining in the sun, face placid.

“What about you?” he asked. “What do you want? Even with all these sick rumors, do you really think we should still have the band?”

She looked at him a moment, as if the answer should be obvious. He’d always suspected, hoped really, that she’d just joined to be with him, but they’d never actually talked about it. If that was it, here was her chance to get out. And maybe his, too. Maybe they could go to law school together.

“Well…isn’t that really the kind of thing you have to decide for yourself?” she said slowly.

“Yeah, I guess, but…I just need to think about it,” he said. “How are your parents dealing?” he asked, changing the subject.

She stood up on the uneven rock and stretched her lean form. Devin watched it against the white and blue. He wanted to grab her, but figured it wouldn’t be right, like they should still be in mourning or something.

“They’re upset, but they’ll get over it. I’m there if you need me,” she said. “But we should probably start rehearsing soon if we’re going to do anything.”

If you need me. Maybe she was only in Torn to be with him.

Wouldn’t that be something?

“Did you hear?” Cheryl asked.

“Now what?”

“Cody got Karston’s bass. He talked Allen Bates into being our manager and Mr. Bates bought it from Karston’s mom,” she explained.

Sure, Devin thought. Why not? Another icon added to the growing local legend. Haunted song. Haunted bass. Haunted band.