as1.e9 – Another Day in Paradise

as1.e9

Another Day in Paradise (Phil Collins)

            On Monday, the three of us came to recess ready to do something awesome. Liesel and Edmond had to sit through classes and lunch, but I just skipped right to the good part. We walked towards the shed—our backpacks loaded with some extras we couldn’t take the first time. Ady, Quince, and Hayden joined us on the way. Everyone else just living a normal 11:32 AM life at school had no idea yet what was coming.

            Little needed to be said, so words were kept to a minimum. We checked that the coast was clear before going around to the far end of the shed, where I showed the other trio how to use a screwdriver to open the panel. I could tell that the newcomers weren’t impressed by the dark interior… at first. For maybe five seconds.

            But when Leese yanked the chain, their eyes lit up like the dangling Christmas lights. Oh yeah, they must’ve thought as it hit them. Now this could be something special.

            So, we got right to fixing the place up. I slid Devo’s Freedom of Choice album into the tape player still on the floor, hit that play button, and we were off with a little over thirty minutes to make a proper club out of this shack. Luckily, time moves more slowly when you’re a kid. It’s like our superpower. Diminished for me, sure; but it was still there, at least a little bit. And we definitely knew how to make a secret club.

            As if by instinct considering her home life, Adelina began cleaning with the dustpan. We worked together to get the lights strung up, with Hayden using his dad’s staple gun like a pro. Liesel left and returned with two milk crates like promised—where she found them, I had no clue. We set up some wall art, but we’d need more so it didn’t look like a sad and scant little collection. We stocked backup batteries for the stereo in an old pencil box, positioned the foldout chair and beanbag, and cleaned out the trash.

            “Don’t we have a little Igloo cooler somewhere?” Edmond eventually asked us.

            “Cass has it at the moment,” Liesel explained. “She’ll give us ice, but the deal is, kids still gotta buy their drinks from her and bring ’em over. I’m not about to undercut a McCormish!” she said with a dark laugh. “Seriously… I heard her sis ran a tight ship.”

            “This place needs more… something,” Quincy said as he absorbed the vibes. “It’s a good start, but, like… more décor. Even just some posters. Oh, and magazines!”

            “The panel could use a handle attachment, too,” Hayden added as he looked at the big bright square in the corner where sunlight came in. “I got a powerful suction cup one at home I could bring and stick on—then we could close it and seal ourselves in.”

            “Sounds great,” Edmond replied with sarcasm, “I can see the future headline now: skeletons of eight students who disappeared ten years ago found in old shed.”

            Without laughing or even acknowledging the grim humor, Ady asked, “Is that the number we’re settling on? You think eight at a time is a good fit?”

            “It’ll be a little tight, but yeah,” I told everyone. “Two fifteen-minute hangs a day, with the other ten minutes used to gather and break up. That’s eighty kids a week, max.”

            “Er, so…” Quincy did math. “Two weeks to give every third-grader time in the club. And it’s not like everyone will be interested. Claudia will probably call it a dump.”

            “Oh, I know!” Liesel piped. “We should ask Sarah for some extra posters. Her cousin works at a rental place, remember? I bet she has tons of movie ones to spare!”

            “And Luka’s always bringing magazines to school to read,” Edmond added. “He must have a hundred subscriptions… If they’re a month old, maybe he tosses them.”

            “Oooh, cute, handsome, rich Luka…” Adelina murmured. “Do you think he’d even be interested in this club? He’s not mean like Claudia, but this is a bit of a dive.”

            I wondered why Ady knew what a ‘dive’ was, remembered that their parents had a band, and replied, “We’ll ask. People are often more open to things than you expect.”

            “Hey, Maze. What are we going to call this club, anyway? It needs a name!”

            Good point… DTE might’ve settled for “The Dump,” but this was anything but.

            I thought about what to call it—the honor wasn’t lost on me—throughout what little remained of recess, and during our quick conversations with Sarah and Luka. She looked up from an issue of Entertainment Weekly and smiled when asked, while he turned away from the other pretty boys he usually chatted with and raised an eyebrow.

            There wasn’t really anything interesting waiting for me at home, so I skipped to Tuesday on the playground, and forty minutes later, Wednesday recess. The plans had been set the day prior, and there was nothing left to do but make the announcement.

            Luka helped with that, too. Were you anyone other than one of the most popular kids, it was almost impossible to get everyone in one place. It wasn’t unprecedented for someone to address the entirety of a grade, but it remained an exceptional, rare moment. Strictly speaking, Sundren didn’t really care or intrude on such gatherings, as long as they didn’t go on for very long, and broke apart peacefully without concerning glares at any single individual. We’d just have to keep our voices down. Or Liesel would, at least.

            Even if I was steadily shedding my “skittish old shell,” I knew it’d still be strange for others to see me making a big announcement in front of everyone. Not so much for Liesel, social butterfly that she was. Once Cass had locked up and made an uncommon appearance on the grounds, Liesel stepped up to the encircled main fort and got to it.

            “Third-graders! We have an announcement you’ll all just love!” she bellowed as she stood by Luka, at just the right volume to keep the monitor from overhearing what went on in our little kid society. “For the first time in years, our school has a recess club! A real cool hangout!” She gave the first wave of murmurs a moment to pass. “It’s in the old shed, that way!” She pointed towards Eddie’s tires. “We got music, ice for drinks if you buy them from Cass,” she said, and our merchant gave everyone a wave, “and… it’s just a really neat place! We can fit eight of us at a time for fifteen minutes each!”

            “That’s wicked awesome!” one of the boys in the crowd shouted out.

            “Pfft!” Claudia ridiculed over the rest of us, faster than expected. “You really think so? Who wants to hide in some smelly, moldy old shack? Don’t even bother inviting me!”

            “That’s fine, Claudia; we won’t invite you!” Leese continued just as cheerfully. “Because we’re doing drawings so everyone gets a chance to see it. But for today, the eight of us that helped make the club get to go there first, along with six lucky day-one winners! First, Maisy, myself, Edmond, Luka, and Sarah will join Paul, Enzo and Claire!”

            “W-wait, me?!” Pizza Boy Enzo shouted excitedly. “I… I won something?!”

            Claire Sterling, one of the grade’s shiest kids, blushed nervously and squeaked, “I, um… Okay, I guess… C-can I leave if it gets scary? I want to see it, but it’s just that…”

            “It’s okay, Claire. We’re not forcing you to do anything. Next, we have Maisy—”

            “Maisy again?!” Claudia snapped, like she suddenly cared. “What’s that about?”

            Liesel looked down at me for approval, and since I knew it would eventually get out anyway, I just shrugged and nodded back. Might as well get it over with, right?

            “Well, Claudia, since you’re so invested now… The club was Maisy’s idea.”

            Ms. Fitzgerald’s mouth drooped open for just a second before she caught herself looking stupid, closed it, and fired back, “Maisy?” She glowered at me. “Seriously?!”

            “Yeah, very seriously. Now let me finish—we’re cutting into club time. Anyway, she wants to see what both groups think of it, so next up is Maisy, Hayden, Adelina, Quincy, and our lucky winners. They would be Blain, Wren, Kent—” Kent let out a cry of joy immediately, “—and Vera. Totally random draw, everyone, promise.”

            Now that Claudia had unsurprisingly started some shit, many eyes turned to her and Vera, standing by her friend in a degree of visible shock. This wasn’t a lark, either; her name really had come up in our second hat pull back at Edmond’s place last night.

            “Um… Thanks?” Vera said, and sheepishly turned to her disgusted bestie. “I’ll check it out so you don’t have to, Claudie! I’m sure it’s as lame as you think it is.”

            “Tch. Fine, whatever. It had better be. God, this is ridiculous,” Claudia jeered.

            “What else…” Liesel murmured. “Oh, yeah, duh! The name of the club is…” she took a beat to build unneeded suspense, “The Rave. Because R-V-E. Get it? Mm’kay, I’ll come down and see ya there! If anyone tells an adult about this, by the way, I think you’ll be scorned the rest of the year. That goes for everyone.” She then coughed out, “Claudia.”

            “Oh, as if,” Claudia got in the last word. “That would just mean I was jealous the whole time. It won’t make any of you popular, you know. I hope your club falls apart.”

            “Wow, ‘Claudie.’ Lighten up, would you?” Luka insulted her on his way over as the crowd broke up. “I’ve seen it, and it’s fine. Are you just mad you didn’t make it?”

            “Ugh, Luka!” She stomped a foot. “How can you say something so mean?!”

            He looked away and rolled his eyes. When he joined me and the others, and all of us walked towards the hangout together almost like we were—gasp—equals, Claudia lost what was left of her already fragile temperament and stormed off. Even Vera hesitated to follow her friend or comfort her in such a state. Hm. Had I just made her “list?”

            It wasn’t only the eight of us heading to The Rave, either. Maybe about a fourth of the rest of the class were curious enough to simply want to see us go inside.

            Fortunately for us, Sundren’s eyes weren’t on the gaggle, as Cass was nice enough to run some interference and distract her with the classic “bad kids are planning to do something bad, but I forgot who they are” ploy. This time, the service was pro bono.

            From the outside, the club looked no different than the neglected maintenance shack it had always been, and we could forgive any doubts those not fortunate enough to go in on its first day might have. I had a feeling that once none of us had come out after five minutes, they’d realize that maybe it was the place to kill a quarter of an hour.

            The vibrations of music on the rattly old walls would most likely help, too.

            “Dearest Enzo, Paul, and Claire…” Liesel said in a stately voice and took out a tiny screwdriver from her pocket. “Welcome to The Rave. Do be on your best behavior.”

            They watched through eyes still dusted with lingering childhood magic as Leese uncrewed the “lock” and swiveled the panel on its axis. Now that it had a sturdy suction cup handle provided by Hayden that hit the wall, it stopped at about an 80° angle. But there was still plenty of room for everyone to crawl in. A little undignified, especially for Luka and his fancy clothes, sure, but when you’re eight or nine, most kids hardly care.

            Liesel pulled the chain to turn on the lights, and everyone crowded in to see the décor. Covering the walls were the posters of album art for rock and synth music from the 70s through the early 90s that I’d contributed, along with mostly schlocky B-movie wall art from Sarah’s collection, like Slumber Party Massacre. What was on display hardly mattered. If it was colorful and gave our eyes something amusing to look at, then it was good enough. We weren’t going to risk our top-tier stuff on a place where they could be confiscated or thrown away by teachers and staff, either. Granted, I’d use my power to prevent that from happening as best I could, at least while I still went to the school.

            The final thing to do was hit the music—at a low enough volume where it could be talked over. The best part of tape tech was being able to save a place for later. When I hit the play button, Phil Collins’ Another Day in Paradise welcomed in the first visitors. I didn’t want anything too loud or prone to cause dancing to break out; better to set the mood with a tune that suggested this was meant to be a chill, inviting space. Eddie then pulled at the door handle to twist the panel back in place, separating us from the world.

            “Oh, wow! Look at all this!” Enzo gasped out and spun around a few times to take it all in. “And we got a big stack of magazines! And card games, too? At school?!”

            “Space is at a premium, so no board games,” Eddie said. “But UNO’s in there.”

            “I like cards…” Paul Letty, who had the unfortunate public image of a ‘boring nerd,’ said in his drab voice as he leaned down and looked at the five games on hand.

            “Aw, only room for two seats? Do the rest us sit on the floor?” Enzo asked.

            “Or stand, yeah,” Luka said. “Go on, buddy, try the lawn chair. It’s not bad.”

            Enzo, who had always had a bit of a limp in his left leg, graciously plopped into Leese’s old chair. I gestured for Claire to take the beanbag, and she reluctantly dropped onto and sank into it. Paul already had an old Popular Mechanics issue in his hands, while Sarah went around straightening out some posters or redoing their pins.

            “Luka, did you just call Enzo your buddy?” Liesel noted. “You never hang out…”

            Thirty seconds into the club’s existence, and we were starting conversations.

            “Oh, yeah. Our families go way back,” he explained. “My dad works downtown, and he’s always stopping by Cosmo’s for lunch and is friends with Enzo’s pop.”

            “Yeah, but…” Eddie grumbled. “You’re only ever with the popular boys here.”

            “It’s okay,” Enzo assured everyone. “Luka’s probably going to end up going to Everette Academy, anyway. That’s just the higher level he’s in. I understand if he wants to get in with the cool guys and only hang out outside of school. I’ll do that for him.”

            “Blah. Doesn’t make it right,” Edmond muttered. He sniffed the air, and added, “It already smells like a pizzeria. How much pizza smell does that jacket absorb, man?”

            “Heh. Pretty neat, right?” Enzo said, waving his arms to further diffuse the scent.

            “What about you, Claire? Tell us something about yourself,” Luka asked of her.

            “M-me?!” she stammered and released some of the long blond hair she’d been chewing on. “Why do I have to talk about myself? Can’t I just sit and enjoy the music?”

            “Claire, this is a judgment-free zone—a club! Chatting and ‘networking’ is what we do! With the random drawings, odds are all eight of us probably won’t be together in here again, so make the best of it. It’s a fleeting moment, you know?”

            “Agh, Luka!” She squirmed in the beans. “That’s too much pressure, coming from you!” She took a moment to steady her breathing. After realizing we weren’t about to bite her head off, she eventually said meekly, “Um… M-my uncle owns a ranch out near the San Baro river… S-sometimes I go out there and get to, um… I get to ride his ponies.”

            “Cool. Dad keeps trying to make me take riding classes, but I don’t see a point.”

            “Um, yeah… It isn’t for everyone, I guess… hehe…” she giggled nervously.

            The knock at the door must’ve come to some relief for Claire, as it diverted the attention from her. Liesel slid open the panel to reveal Cass squatting just outside of it, holding our cooler with two bottles of Yoohoo chocolate drinks. They were never my first choice—I hated the aftertaste—but I couldn’t deny that she was being generous.

            “Compliments of the store,” she said as Liesel took them. “Sorry there’s only two, but we aren’t made of money. I guess the boys and girls could share them?”

            “Thanks, Cass,” Liesel replied. “They look nice and cold already.”

            “Sure. Just don’t forget where to go if you want drinks!” Cass said as she left.

            “Um… Sarah, right?” Claire said, a little less meekly. “I really like your big puffy Last Unicorn shirt… What store did you get that from? I want a shirt with posters on it.”

            “Oh, uh, sorry, Claire!” Sarah replied. “I actually get these made myself. I have a lot of them, for my favorite movies. But I’ll tell you about the place that makes them.”

            And now the club was already making new possible friendships. Perfect.

            “What about you, Paul?” Liesel asked, partly since Eddie wasn’t about to engage with any of the guys, like usual. “What, er… unexpected hobbies or interests do you have?”

            “You… actually want to hear about them?” he asked us with surprise. “The last time I told anyone, it was Suzie, last year. She called me a dull weirdo and dumped milk on my head, and then walked away laughing. No one even handed me a napkin.”

            My left eye twitched, and I think everyone in the club felt secondhand shame.

            “Oh, dude, you shouldn’t let people walk all over you,” Luka urged him. “Forget Suzie. She’s been trying to impress Claudia all of third grade. Tell us what ya like.”

            “Yeah, no milk here!” Enzo added. “Only ice-cold treats!”

            “Speaking of, they should be that cold already,” Liesel said, yanking the drinks out and handing them over. “Boys share, girls share—take a sip and wipe them off.”

            I took the first swig, cleaned the rim with my shirt, and handed it over to Claire as Paul stared at the bottle in his hand. He quickly worked up the courage to feel like part of a “pack” for the first time, partook in a sip, and then gave it to Enzo.

            “Well, you see, my whole family is made up of what might be called ‘nerds,’ but we don’t let it bother us. At home, my big brother and sister are teaching me how to play Dungeons and Dragons. We also like building models, and collecting coins, and…”

            Fifteen minutes goes by in a blur, even in kid-time, so we soon finished up our drinks and said our temporary goodbyes. The newcomers left happier than they were going in, and when the onlookers saw them all chipper and alive, their excitement clearly grew. They’d have to wait to see who got their names drawn for the next chance inside. But no cameras, please. We wouldn’t want circulating photos ruining the surprise, right?

            As a band in need of a following and sold-out gigs, Bad Lizards had driven the hype train at times, and while most forms of marketing made me feel a tad scummy, you couldn’t deny that building a brand and creating some FOMO were valid strategies.

            “You’re gonna love it, Vera!” Liesel said as she walked by those waiting to get in.

            “Yeah, I bet…” Vera said, her arms crossed as she stood near Kent, who looked really antsy. “Ugh, though. Did I have to get put in a group with Kent? He’s so… weird.”

            “Now, now, Vera,” Adelina said. “Everyone’s an equal at The Rave.”

            “Hey. I just realized.” Quincy yawned. “That’s, like, an acronym of your name.”

            “Anagram!” Vera aggressively corrected him. “Can we just go in already?”

            “You can now; it’s all clear,” Edmond, the last one out, said. “Have fun, guys.”

            In what would likely be my only double-visit to the hideout, I led in the next batch of guests. Vera rolled her eyes and sighed when she had to get down and crawl, but otherwise it went as smoothly as before. Even a bigger kid like Wren had no trouble getting through the hole in the wall, and into the club where music was already playing.

            Speaking of strategy, I had some Cyndi Lauper going on the stereo for Vera; she was her favorite artist, and I wouldn’t mind her giving a favorable report to Claudia if it meant Cat Claws wouldn’t talk crap about the place. It could make her jealous, though.

            “Wow!” Wren exclaimed as she stood back up, her head nearly reaching the light socket chain. “Maisy! You and your friends made this? Awesome job, guys!”

            “Thanks, Wren!” Adelina said as she crawled in. “We put a lot of work into it.”

            “Like… how did you even get all this stuff in here?” Vera asked, pretending to not be that impressed. “I don’t get it. You can’t just sneak a beanbag chair into school.”

            “That’ll just stay a secret,” Hayden replied. “We gotta maintain some mystique.”

            “Nice,” Kent, the last to enter, remarked while Hayden closed the panel. “A good place to discuss the alien spies. Even if it was once bugged, the batteries should be dead.”

            Vera huffed, but kept quiet after seeing the rule board’s first rule: NO INSULTS.

            “What is that smell, anyway?” were the first words Vera said, about ten minutes into my second hangout session as she wandered around, looking at the wall art.

            “Essence of Enzo,” Quincy replied flatly. “Don’t you recognize it?”

            “Um, no. Not really. I don’t go around… sniffing Enzo like some weirdos do.”

            “Why do you gotta be so mean, Vera?” Wren chided. “You used to be nice.”

            “I’m not mean!” she argued. “I’m just used to being… blunt now. That’s the best I can do around Claudia. I admit, she can be mean, but I just want to be popular, too.”

            “Claudia’s only popular because half the grade idolizes her, Vera,” Adelina said. “Half is a lot, but she steps all over the kids on ‘the bottom,’ like most of us.”

            “Look, I’ll try to get her to ease up on you guys, okay? I admit that your club… is cool, Maisy. And you have good taste in music. But I don’t know if she’ll let this go.”

            Blaine, a suave black boy who always exuded chill, cool vibes and only spoke when he really had something to say, shared some wisdom from the bag of beans, “So, she thinks this place is a joke but is also jealous that someone else came up with it? Some people just gotta have it both ways, huh? Hey, The Rave’s got my support. Cool place.”

            “We did our best with it,” Hayden replied. “Our band parents are always hanging out somewhere, too. It makes me kinda happy, just seeing them chat and laugh.”

            “Maisy, how’d you come up with this idea, anyway?” Wren asked me, as I sat in the corner and simply enjoyed listening to the conversations that had once never existed. “My cousin Delilah says her school has a secret club, too—but only the fifth-graders get to use it, so she has to wait another year. I think it’s called Club Trash or something?”

            I snort-chortled. “Actually, I did get the idea from there. I saw this shed wasting away, and thought we could hang and listen to music inside. My friends really helped.”

            Hayden looked at me and smirked as Wren beamed and said, “Aw! How sweet!”

            Kent, who had been eating ice out of the otherwise empty cooler, crunched on a cube and asked us, “How come your friend’s falling asleep in the corner? Does he have a rare sleeping sickness? Did you put something in his food? Is there a gas leak in here?”

            “That’s just Quincy’s thing, man,” Hayden tried to reassure Kent, futile as it was. “Kid never misses a chance to take a thirty-second nap. Even here, he wants to dream.”

            My watch beeped, and I checked it with a sigh. Recess was ending. Even Vera looked a bit disappointed that our time was up. We’d never all be in here together again.

 
            There’s a plan behind everything I do. For all my faults when it comes to being a team player, I’ve been meticulous when executing long-term, multistep “schemes” for a while now. Did I think having a secret hangout at school would be cool? Absolutely. But was I also secretly mature enough and wise in my years to pull off the newest epic thing at RVE? Yeah, that too. And damn if it hadn’t given me a hideaway from the noise and disorder I had come to loathe as an adult yesterday. I was happy. It was cozy.

            That’s the problem, of course. I can’t use it every day, and I’ll have to wait for my turn again. Oh, sure, maybe I’ll be called to it when there’s a dispute that needs settling or make the final decision when it comes to kicking someone out, but otherwise I have to set an example of fairness. At least I can look forward to the next draw, and wonder in anticipation who I’ll get partnered with next. With elimination in effect, chances are good I’ll get to see how the place is fairing within a couple weeks or so. If it’s still there.

            The “test run” having been a success, Hayden and Liesel, who know how to get in touch with the movers and shakers of the grades above us, will begin to pass around word of The Rave. My name can be kept out of it as long as possible. No reason to have kids I’d barely ever interact with spreading rumors about some mysterious third-grader.

            And there’s another element to The Rave that my friends don’t see yet. They’ll be meeting and chatting with other kids they never would have otherwise, which is fine and good, but what the club is really about is establishing loved, early memories that have to do with music. It’s imperative that it has a working stereo, and that we also encourage visitors to bring audio casettes. Because there’s social engineering going on here. I need music to become or remain an important foundation for each of our band members.

            I want them to have some indescribable feeling of nostalgia, an anchor, a pang of emotion they’re trying to satiate every time they play that brings them back to these innocent early days, when the world still had a little bit of magic. I’m already regretting not getting all the memories of The Rave that I’m about to receive during my first time around. Now I can make up for those lost chances that could never happen before.

            The Bad Lizards had their favorite dive. Making good memories like those as a kid is an opportunity I won’t pass up. And speaking of time, I have more work ahead.

            I really needed a break from school and some peace and quiet after all the club stuff, so I gave myself a lazy Saturday afternoon to enjoy following the busy week. Olive was at work, Dad was at the computer in the workroom that, in a few more years, would become my bedroom, and Mom was out seeing a movie by herself. Grumpy Old Men, if I recalled correctly. She’d always had a thing for Jack Lemmon. As I read Matilida on the armchair, one of my favorite books as a kid, River, Carlos, and Penny took turns playing his Super Nintendo. I didn’t mind; for gaming ten-year-olds, they were fairly calm.

            Yawning as I read with one leg dangled over the side of an armrest, Penny turned to me after an explosive two-player round with River ended and said, “Hey, Maze! Why don’t you come over here and play? This is great! You blow each other up with bombs!”

            “I’m good, Penny. Thanks,” I replied. “Just taking it easy today, you know?”

            “Yo, Riv,” Carlos spoke up, “if you buy this multi-tap thing like my cousin has, you can play Super Bomberman with four players. It’s pure chaos, buddy. Really fun.”

            “That sounds cool,” River said. “But I need a breather. One of you can play Star Fox if you want. That’s the other game I got for Christmas. I still can’t finish it.”

            “Oh, yeah. It’s a tough one, but I can beat the medium course. I’ll show you and Penny some tips. If you know when to spin, you can avoid a lot of damage.”

            “I don’t need any tips!” Penny chortled. “I can do the hard course already!”

            “Wow, Pen. Good for you…” Carlos grumbled and booted up the game.

            Space fighter game, anthropomorphic animals. Low frame rate, makes me a little sick when I look at it. Killer soundtrack, though. Another game River never had before. I was still curious what had changed to make him more of a gamer than he was originally.

            “Guys, guess what? My school has a secret club now, in an old shed,” he suddenly said something that made my ears perk up as Carlos goofed around in the training stage. “I haven’t been picked to go inside yet, but everyone’s saying how cool it is.”

            “Oh, that’s awesome!” Penny replied and sat down on the windowsill to warm in the sunlight. “East Haven’s club got shut down last year, and the staff’s been on high alert ever since.” She sighed. “I don’t think we’ll get a new one before we graduate.”

            “Any idea who made it?” Carlos asked. “Even in a group effort, someone leads.”

            “No clue,” River said. “They kept it a secret. He apparently likes music, though.”

            I smiled, and began the chapter where Matilda first starts using psychic powers.

            Actually, Saturday was pretty busy, too. But I did get to relax for some of it. I had more places to go and things to do, and shortly after Mom got home from The Queen, she went right back out again. I had convinced her to take me to Desert Tree, to fulfill what must’ve been an odd request for her: I wanted to hang out with a teenager.

            “Maze, are you sure about this?” Mom asked as she pulled into the neighborhood. “I mean, I spoke to this Vanni girl on the phone and she seems nice enough—it’s just… if you want some guitar lessons, we can look into finding a class for you.”

            “Mom, I told you. She’s a drummer. I don’t even know if she’ll give me lessons yet, but this isn’t about learning how to play a guitar; it’s about playing with others, and keeping in rhythm. If she can’t do it, then whatever. If she can, you’ll save some money.”

            “Since when did you start saying ‘whatever,’ young lady?” Mom said with a laugh. “Look, I understand having an older role model at your age, and I do think you’re smart enough to recognize if she’s being a bad one. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

            “Of course, Mom. And I’ll be right next door at Eddie’s later.”

            “Right… I keep forgetting you’re having a sleepover tonight, also.” She glanced in the rearview at my pillow and stuffed backpack. “You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

            We pulled up to Vanni’s house with the double-wide garage, and I gave Mom my little goodbyes and got my things from the back. I didn’t expect it, but Vanni opened the front door before I walked up her incline and approached the car. I felt for sure that she was cancelling on me, either because something came up or this was just “too weird.”

            I was relieved when she smiled and waved at me before tapping at the driver’s side window. Once Mom had rolled it down, Vanni leaned in for a fast chat. I was really admiring that cool confidence of hers, in talking to unfamiliar adults so easily.

            “Hi, Mrs. Wilkins. I’m still not sure exactly what this is, but I’m pretty good with kids… for some reason. If nothing else, we can just play video games or listen to music. Is she still good for a pickup in a couple hours? Forgot to mention, I got band practice.”

            “Um, yes, that’s right. The father of one of her friends will come get her later.”

            “All right. Cool. Well,” she patted the roof of the car, “I’ll take good care of her.”

            Mom seemed to be persuaded just enough that we’d be fine, and after a wave, she drove off. Very slowly and watchfully at first. When she finally turned a corner and the noise of the engine faded, Vanni and I stared at each other on the sidewalk.

            “You, uh… brought a lot more than I expected,” was the first thing she told me.

            “Don’t worry. I’m not sleeping here,” I promised her, my backpack at my side.

            “That’s for the best. Come on in. The house is all ours right now.”

            I did, and I was immediately impressed by the living room. It had shelves filled with video games, from Intellivision and Atari carts to Super Nintendo and Sega. Other shelves, naturally, held vinyl, tapes, and CDs; forming a larger collection than our own. There was also an impressive hi-fi system, and a big TV for the era in the living room.

            “Dad’s a media collector,” Vanni explained. “Buys, resells, refurbs. Not that he doesn’t also play, watch, or listen, too. He even has a few arcade cabinets out back in the shed. Oh, you can put your stuff on the couch. I’ll make sure Gav doesn’t mess with it, whenever he gets home from doing… whatever it is he does with his little buddies.”

            After taking her up on the offer and lightening my shoulders, I followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge and took out two cans of a familiar soda.

            “We’re kind of a Dr. Pepper family. Root beer sometimes, too. Want one?”

            They weren’t my favorite, but I figured I might be doing some talking on this visit, so I grabbed a can and popped it open with my surprisingly nimble little fingers.

            “You… only play a guitar, right?” Vanni asked after she took a sip, and as she gave my hands a quick study. “I’m really not sure what I can do for ya, Maisy. I’m still learning myself. As a, you know… drummer? I know a few guitar teachers in the city, closer to you. There’s this one guy our guitarist really likes, and—”

            I cut her off, “I’m pretty good on the guitar already. What I have trouble with is keeping in time with others. Especially if we’re doing a song with multiple signatures.”

            “Oooh, I get it. You just want help with keeping with the beat, huh? One of the miracles of human evolution, being able to do that consistently. Down to the millisecond among professionals, repeatedly and all night. It’s a wonder we can pull that off.”

            “I can stay in tempo, if I’m by myself. The problem is, again, playing with others.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “Have you actually played with others enough at your age to even realize that’s a problem?” she asked me, and I began thinking of an excuse. But luckily, she treated it more like a rhetorical question and brushed it off. “Sounds like it’s more of a psychological problem that’ll go away, well… in time, or with training tailored for you. We can give it a shot, I guess. Well, if we do this again and you bring a guitar.”

            “Really? Um, okay—that’d be great. You don’t have any around, do you?”

            “Nah. My buddy Alex leaves his here sometimes, but it’s a bass. And he wouldn’t want you touching it. You wanna see the garage? It makes for a good practice studio.”

            I sure did. I followed her through the nearby door and into the huge room where the magic happened. It was empty of cars and featured a washer, dryer, an older stereo, more music media, posters of 1980s hair bands, and egg cartons on the walls that they would probably take down one day upon realizing they didn’t really offer soundproofing.

            Vanni’s slick purple drum kit was in the center of the space, and she gave one of the snares a roll with her fingers as she walked past it. I’d kill for a space like this.

            “Check it out. We got our band name and logo painted onto the bass drum.”

            I circled around to get a peek, and… I felt a strange and instant vague connection to the stylized, almost Picasso-esque face of a fool with a mask made of the letters “RJ.” And circling the visage was the name: Rambunctious Jester. Where had I heard of them?

            Vanni dropped onto her throne, spun around a full rotation, grabbed her sticks, and started to idle away with some random beats just like Samson did when our own band hung out before or after practice. The importance of Jester was on the tip of my tongue.

            “Rachel, our keyboardist, isn’t the best with time, either,” she mentioned. “She likes to get ahead of us. As if she’s in a hurry to finish, or gets nervous with being a team player or ‘blending in with us.’ Like she’s afraid to disappear… Maybe that’s your issue?”

            “Uh, yeah, maybe,” I replied, my concentration elsewhere as I felt my mind begin to ‘overheat’ due to me tearing through a library’s worth of memories. “Hey, Vanni? Do you have a picture of your band I can see? I wanna check out what you guys look like.”

            “Er… Sure. We don’t have the ‘looks’ yet, but… One sec.” She got up, went over to an old, beat-up work desk in the corner, and shoved aside music books and papers covered in lyrics. “Yeah, I got one here. Nothing good enough for an album cover, yet, but at least we’re posing with our instruments.” She brought over a Polaroid and handed it to me. My hand began to tremble as I looked at the teens. “Me, Rach, Alex, and…”

            They were all so young. But there was no doubt about it. The boy with the long dirty blond hair, acid-washed jeans, and the intense gaze that said “I’m going places” was a kid who would one day speak favorably about his days of youth spent in this very band.

            “That’s Fynn Donovan,” I murmured out impulsively. “Your lead guitarist…”

            “You’ve actually heard of him?” Vanni replied and snatched the photo away. “He does tell us he wants to make a name for himself. Guess he’s got a reputation already.”

            I couldn’t believe it. Somehow, I had ended up in the garage band studio where Fynn Donovan, frontman of Red Retro Reciprocal, got his start. Arguably the second or third most famous group to come out of Royal Valley. By 2026, they had put out seven rock albums, and in November of that year, pulled a “stunt” on Castle Hill Overlook by playing a small concert up there. His old band even came together for a reunion set.

            Which meant Vanni would play on that cliffside just 32 years from now.

            Oh, crap. Ohhh, crap. This could be huge, much later down the line. I could even have a foot in the door of the entire industry, through Vanni if she knew Fynn.

            “Yeah, Fynn’s pretty cool,” she said, and set her soda can on the floor. “But I’m not half-bad, either. Here—lemme show you something I’ve been working on.”

            She grabbed her sticks, raised them up, gave them a twirl, and looked ready to rock out… when we were interrupted by a door slamming back in the living room.

            “What?” Vanni huffed in agitation. “Are you kidding me? He said he’d be out all day! Tch, maaaan…” She dropped her sticks and looked up at me. “Sorry, Maisy. Not the best day, after all. Gavin will totally just bother us all day if I try to teach you anything.”

            “It’s okay,” I assured her. “Not like I have my guitar, anyway. I was mostly just wanting to meet you, to see if this could work. Should we go out and say hi?”

            “Yeah. I guess. We should make sure they don’t mess with your stuff, anyway.”

            We returned to the living room, sodas in hand, to find that Gavin and his best buds, Stu and Mikey, were still kicking off their damp shoes by the door. They were all wearing jeans and white shirts, stained with… was that blue food coloring?

            “Guys, what happened?” Vanni asked them. “I was planning to show Maisy here some of my drumming. I thought you were playing Aqua Soldiers or whatever.”

            “Hydro Commandos. Janice, Daron, and Duvall all bailed on us after two rounds,” Gavin groaned. “I warned ’em that it’d count as a third loss, but they didn’t care.”

            “They were all in a bad mood and said ‘they had better things to do,’” Stu added, and looked at me. “Hey, I remember you… Um. You wanna play some games with us?”

            “Guys, come on,” Vanni scoffed. “She came here for music reasons, not games.”

            “Really, sis?” Gavin laughed. “She’s over to listen to the noise you make?”

            As Vanni glowered at him, I looked at the numerous consoles under the TV. I had to admit, it was getting harder to resist the temptation to play more seriously. What was happening to me and River? Anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to play for me after that insult—not proficiently, at least—so, there was only one thing left to do.

            “All right,” I spoke up, acting tough with a raised fist. “Show me what ya got.”

            Gavin smirked and nudged his buddies in that “get a load of this girl” way, and Vanni gave me a look of concern. Ah. Maybe I should undo what I just got myself into.

            “Maze, why would you do that to yourself?” Liesel asked me a couple hours later, in the back of Edmond’s dad’s car as we began the climb up Castle Hill just a bit before sunset. “It sounds like you got destroyed and humiliated, one game after the next!”

            “It’s okay. I’m fine, Leese,” I tried to promise her. “I had fun… really.”

            Truth was, I let the pain remain because I saw it as a bonding experience. If I was going to be hanging out at Vanni’s for a while, I’d rather Gav and his crew be cool with me being there. Showing some spine and enduring a “hazing ritual” had social benefits.

            Edmond turned around in the front seat and added, “I mean, hey, usually Maze just watches us play. I wouldn’t mind some more variety in our gaming… Or, you know,” he snickered, “someone I can beat pretty easily—Dad, ow!” he blurted after a prodding.

            “Don’t be mean, Eddie,” Mr. Palmer lightly scolded him. “You treat your friends nicely, or they might not want to have another sleepover with you.”

            He faced forward again, grumbling, “I’m not sure I want another one, anyway.”

            “Thanks for taking us to dinner Mr. Palmer!” Liesel did her polite routine. “You really don’t have to treat us to a meal out, you know. Even though I’ve never been there.”

            “Oh, you haven’t?” Edmond’s dad chuckled as he looked at us in the rearview. “The Overlook Diner is a guilty pleasure type of place, but also a local staple.”

            I went back to looking out the window at the passing landscape, as golden hour Royal Valley descended below us and Liesel and Mr. Palmer chatted about all the other restaurants they’d been to. Losing all those games stung, but at least the boys didn’t have a laugh at my expense. All things considered, Gav and his friends were pretty good kids.

            After another ten minutes of driving, we pulled up to the cliffside overlook itself where Red Retro would play one day. It was packed despite the brisk winds.

            For a few minutes, we just walked around other sightseers in our jackets as the wind buffeted us and the sun cast its oranges and indigos across the city. It was another memory that was going to stand out, no doubt. Just like the sunset at the airport.

            At one point, Edmond leaned up against the guardrail with his hands in his jacket pockets, and a gust hit the hair above his broody face in a way that made him look cool.

            “Hey, Eddie. You look kind of like a movie star,” Liesel said. “Mr. Palmer, get a picture of us against the city!” she demanded, and went right in for a pose next to him.

            “Really, Leese?” Edmond grumbled as I got on his other side. “I can’t even stand somewhere without… Oh, forget it,” he huffed as his dad took out a disposable.

            Once another memory had been captured, we turned towards the King Arcade construction site past the interstate. Even at our distance, we could make out the cranes, their lights, and the half-built coaster. The drop tower, in silhouette, stood over it all like a lone sentinel. It was believed to be used as a cheap way to check progress from above.

            “The park’s definitely getting delayed again, you know,” Edmond said placidly.

            “And what makes you an expert on theme park building?” Liesel wondered.

            “Guys. Look at it. Even from here, does that seem like something that’ll open this year? We’ll be lucky if it opens in fifth grade. I’m just getting tired of hearing about it on the playground. And all those dumb rumors about its mascots and the rides.”

            “You hear the one about the rollercoaster being taller than Victory Plaza and that it’ll have five loops, with two of them being on fire? Or that there’s gonna be an alligator mascot that eats one kid a day—the worst behaved one who visits the park?”

            “Who comes up with this crap…” Edmond groaned. “Hey, Maze, you never said if Vanni’s gonna start training you. You really think she can teach you some stuff?”

            “It looks like she will,” I told them. “I need to practice… something. So that I can play along with Hayden. He just started taking a drumming class, you know. Says he’s the youngest kid there. The band might actually happen. In middle school, I mean.”

            Edmond looked the slightest bit ashamed. “But I can’t really play anything…”

            “It’s okay, Eddie. We’ll still find a place for you. You might be surprised.”

            He didn’t appear to know how to construe that, but thankfully his dad opened his car door before things got awkward and gestured at us. He was getting cold, hungry, or both. We’d seen a sunset, and now it was onward to the old diner and its greasy food.

            Burgers. Burgers for everyone. It was a coincidence, but not a surprise. Even Liesel, who was never big into red meat, couldn’t resist when the scent hit her nose.

            As the four of us sat in a red corner booth of the moderately-packed main dining room that was covered in memorabilia from Royal Valley’s golden days, I also took note of my friends’ fry preferences—always an important metric. Liesel put a few strings of ketchup on hers. Edmond liked them plain, with a little added salt. I dipped mine, but just for taste; I never let them get soggy. For the record, Eddie’s dad liked to dunk them into a mix of ketchup and mayo. Really soaked them, too. To each their own.

            I was never a soda fiend, but it was my go-to drink for hot days or fast food. As gross as I’d always found the aftertaste of classic diet drinks, I was trying to recalibrate my taste buds early to reduce my sugar intake later; another small benefit of my ability.

            “Maisy, how do you know so much about music at your age?” Mr. Palmer asked me as I washed down some beef with Diet Coke. “Even Eddie’s mom doesn’t know some of this trivia about bands that you do, and she used to write for Rolling Stone.”

            I shrugged and replied, “A lot of this stuff I just consider basic rock, folk, pop, or blues knowledge, really. They’re all things my parents talk about on repeat.”

            “Maisy wants us to start a band, Dad…” Edmond murmured. “Crazy, huh?”

            “Oh, she does?” Mr. Palmer hardly looked shocked. “Plenty of teens go through that phase. But maybe more in suburbs. Our area doesn’t have many garages.”

            “Quincy’s got one,” Liesel mentioned. “His brother used to play in a band, until they kicked him out. Missed too much practice, I think… He lives in one of those old houses a few blocks from me. We were thinking we’d check it out one day soon.”

            “Hey, you know, whether you end up doing it or not, or if it breaks up after a year, I like to say that there are few genuinely bad memories. Follow your hearts.”

            “Dad. Gross…” Edmond shook his head and rolled his eyes.

            “Listen, girls. Serious talk for just a sec,” his dad continued, and as he wiped his fingers clean, Eddie noticeably tensed up even further. “Thanks again for being his friend. Edmond’s a good kid—you both know that. I don’t know where he’d be without you.”

            “We make quite a trio!” Liesel said in her typical upbeat way. “Don’t we, Eddie?”

            “Okay!” he exclaimed after finishing his burger “Enough of that! Check, please.”

            “You can’t just say that and it magically shows up, buddy,” Mr. Palmer sighed.

            For a moment, I actually forgot about the entire sleepover thing, and wondered why Eddie’s dad parked a little too far from my family’s apartment. But that passed as soon I stepped out of the car and he handed me my pillow from the trunk—and like a gentleman, took my heavier bag up for me, along with Liesel’s cute little suitcase.

            I think that during the walk up to the second floor, it hit Edmond a little more with each step that two other kids would actually be staying over at his place that night. Knowing him, that alone hit harder than just me and Leese being girls. Which wasn’t something he’d want passed around on the playground, but if it wasn’t us, then who?

            In my opinion, sleepovers were a rite of passage, regardless of who hosted. They also make for good practice in learning proper manners when at someone else’s home. And getting to see how another family goes about their day? That’s good life experience.

            “Well, Eddie? Aren’t you going to welcome your guests?” his dad said just a few seconds after everyone was past the door. “I know they’ve been here before, but still.”

            Edmond made a weird little whimpering sound, turned to us, and murmured, “Yeah, um… Welcome to my place. If you actually want to see my room, I… cleaned it. Also, please don’t fight over who gets the couch and who has to be on the air mattress.”

            “Oh, we get an air mattress instead of a sleeping bag? Fancy!” Liesel remarked.

            “Uh-huh.” Once all of our things were set down by the door, Edmond rubbed the back of his neck and said rather bashfully, “We don’t have to play video games all night. I’m into board games, too. And tabletop games. I didn’t want to bring it up when Paul was in the club, and, ugh… start a conversation… but me and my parents actually do play some Dungeons and Dragons sometimes. Or we can watch a movie. That’s okay, too.”

            “Eddie, you’re the host. You come up with things to do.” Liesel replied cheekily, “And if we don’t like it, well, you know me. I can be forward when I’m not having fun.”

            “Edmond, why don’t you show them your room first?” his dad suggested.

            “Um. Okay, fine. But there’s not much to see, really.”

            He led us into the hallway, and reluctantly opened his door. It was surprisingly large for an apartment bedroom for kids, though its white walls were sadly bare of any posters or artwork, and his bed, dresser, and entertainment center that only had a stereo, TV, and no peripherals were all in shades of gray or black. But it was clean.

            “Eddie, how come…” Liesel chose her words carefully, “it’s so… simple?”

            “You mean I don’t ‘express’ myself. Yeah, Mom gets on my case about that, too. But, look, I got a shelf full of my old stuffed animal collection. That’s something, right?”

            He had a variety of stuffed animals, all right. Bears, penguins, wolves, dogs, cats, pandas, and a raccoon. In other words, blacks, whites, grays, and hey, browns, at least.

            “Ever think about getting some color in your life, Edmond?” Liesel asked plainly.

            He scowled, gestured for us to get out, and shut the door behind him. “I don’t come over and judge your places, guys. I like the look, okay? It’s not deeper than that.”

            Liesel tried brushing it off with, “Sure, Eddie. Sure! I didn’t mean anything by it!”

            We stood quietly in the hallway for an awkward little beat, which ended when the mom of the house suddenly opened up the nearby computer room door. She looked like she’d been staring at a screen for hours, and those old CRT monitors could be harsh.

            “Oh, hello everyone,” she said with a yawn. “I, ah… work odd hours sometimes. The PC’s all yours, Eddie. If you still wanted to show them. Just keep it to a half hour.”

            “Ooo, show us what?” Liesel replied mischievously. “Is it a violent video game?”

            “No, Leese. We have a modem, and there’s a BBS I use to talk about D&D stuff, mostly,” Eddie said, and might’ve been brandishing a foreign language at Liesel. After she cocked her head and stared, he wondered, “Haven’t you heard of it?”

            “Umm…” She put a finger to her chin. “Oh, I’m watching a Ghostwriter arc about it right now! It has that email stuff, right? And you can post messages through a phone?”

            “That’s mostly right. Come on. I need to check for new posts, anyway.”

            Eddie had internet access in ’94, just before AOL started hitting the mainstream? He was always so full of surprises. I first signed on in 1998, like a lot of people, so I had zero experience with seeing it in the older-than-that days. This could be kind of… neat.

            If I could easily get online four years earlier than I did originally, there may be some opportunities I could seize through that, too. What they were, I had no idea yet.

            Eddie led us into the small workspace, lined with shelves full of CDs and books about early e-commerce and advertising—his mom must’ve been a bit of a pioneer—and booted up AOL on the family computer. They even had a 28.8kbps modem; while those speeds would be dog slow in a few years, right now they were cutting edge.

            “Ah! What’s with that noise?!” Liesel exclaimed over the racket. “Is it broken?”

            “Nah,” Eddie assured her. “That’s normal. Just give it a few more seconds.”

            A very early version of the AOL home screen and all its simplistic image links popped up after a successful log-in, but Edmond barely gave me a chance to look at the vintage layout before he opened up one of his bookmarked websites: an image-free and basic white-text-on-dark-gray bulletin board system that predated the modern forum software still in use in the 2040s. Its ASCII banner formed the letters, “D&D Castle.”

            “And what’s this?” Liesel questioned as her eyes noticeably glazed over.

            “It’s like… where you can put messages on a corkboard for others to read and reply to,” Edmond explained and navigated to a very primitive subforum that didn’t even have proper table spacing yet. “I’ve been arguing with this annoying kid who has really dumb opinions, and I bet he’s left another message already,” he said, clicking and scrolling around with the mouse. “Just last week, he said DMs were gods who weren’t ‘entitled’ to create an enjoyable experience, and… Gah! This is him again, right here!”

            “What’s a DM?” Liesel whispered to me as Edmond angrily scoured a post.

            “Dungeon Master, I think,” I replied. “They run the game and tell the story.”

            “This guy, I swear!” Edmond snapped and started hitting the keys messily and hard to pound out an error-filled response that could only come from a kid still a few months from turning nine. “‘Bards are the rotting garbage at the top of the support class trash can,’ huh? Yeah, tell that to my dad, you jerk! They always have your back, idiot!”

            “Edmond, are you okay?” Liesel asked, worried. “You’re typing so angrily…”

            He finished tapping out a two-sentence reply, calmed down, swiveled towards us in the chair, and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. So, uh… Do you want to learn how to play?”

            I didn’t know much about Dungeon and Dragons outside of its influence on most of the RPG video games that followed it, but I did know that campaigns could last a while. I made the suggestion that we should all get settled in first to make the transition to our beds easier, and within the hour, we’d each changed into our pajamas. With, nuts, fruit, popcorn, and caffeine-free drinks at our disposal, we gathered around the dining table.

            With a lore book in hand, Edmond sat at the end, and behind his DM screen that obscured all the information about the game. We had gotten past character creation and stat assignments fairly quickly, but conquering the basics had turned into an extended tutorial for me and Liesel. Even my adult brain was having some trouble with the rules.

            “Okay, Leese, roll the D20 to see if you land a hit on the bad guy,” Eddie said.

            “Um… Oh, this one. Okay, here goes!” she said and rolled the twenty-sided blue die. “It landed on… an eleven. Is that good enough? Did I win the battle?”

            “Adding onto your attack stat gives you a seventeen… but cyborgs have tough exoskeletons, so you needed an eighteen and your attack failed. Sorry about that.”

            “What?! I was one off! Come on, Eddie—I should at least do some damage!”

            “Look, I don’t make the rules. You either succeed, or you don’t. Your turn, Maze.”

            “Edmond, my attack stat is terrible,” I groaned. “There’s no way I’ll do damage.”

            “Well, I did say when you chose to be the punk rocker that it’s a version of the bard I was talking about earlier. Maybe cast a support song to boost Leese’s attack.”

            “That’s another thing,” Liesel sighed. “Why is she a rocker, and I’m something called a laser hound? I thought this game took place in a Lord of the Rings type world.”

            Edmond pinched the bridge of his nose. “Leese, again, this is a custom campaign set that takes place in a cyberpunk universe. There’s an actual Cyberpunk game out there, but Dad says its themes are ‘too adult’ for me, so he got me this more… family-friendly one instead. But it still follows most of the basic rules, so you can learn through it, too.”

            “Ooooh. Is a cyborg a sci-fi animal? I thought it was a type of orc! Can Maisy use magic? What are you drinking, anyway?” Liesel asked and took a sip of her juice.

            “Chamomile tea,” Edmond groaned after taking a big swig. “For my anxiety.”

            “I think I’d rather cast a defense spell,” I said. “I mean song on us both and give Liesel another chance to hit first. I bet a cyborg has high attack, too, doesn’t he?”

            Edmond shrugged, and after I rolled a fourteen, he replied, “The song succeeds. You’re both now protected by a shield that halves physical damage for three turns. And now…” He rolled his own dice. “The cyborg unleashes a missile barrage that deals…”

            I tuned him out a little as sleepiness following a busy day began to take hold. But we persisted, as his nice mom kept our snacks topped up. We played for three hours.

            And the next morning, after eating homemade waffles, I went down the stoop in front of Eddie’s apartment with my stuff, and walked the fifty feet to my building with a spring in my step and a grin on my face. I couldn’t believe it. Who was I becoming? First video games, and now Dungeons and Dragons? I loved new experiences, though I couldn’t let them take time away from music. Song inspiration, however, came from everywhere.