Her Number | Teen Ink

Her Number

January 24, 2017
By Beanfox, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
More by this author
Beanfox, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
0 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Author's note:

This is the first 5 pages of a three-part, 28 page novella. I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

The author's comments:

This is the full story right here. Uploading this for school.

The guitar strings vibrate under the pick as I strum a couple of chords. It sounds like it’s in tune to me. It would be a shame if it was a pitch off as we are performing tonight at Marshall’s house party tonight. He wanted a party right after the first day of school to get one last kick out of Summer before we start getting used to school again. Although I never really attend school anyways, I think a party would be a nice way to get certain things off my mind. Things haven’t been going that well lately between my stepfather and I. He’s been coming home really late, and I’ve kinda been on my own more than usual.
I feel a small vibration in my pocket. I pull out my Apple iPhone to see the text bubble pop up on the touch screen. It was a small message from Tommy, the acoustic guitar player in our small band.
“Are you bringing extra guitar picks tonight?” he says through the text. “I can’t find mine. I think I left it in your garage when we practiced last Thursday.”
“I’ll bring a few,” I type with my thicker fingers. “Just give them back to me once we’re done playing.”
Marshall wanted us to play at the party tonight. To be honest, I don’t really want to see any of my friends from our band, which we’re calling Hotknot at the moment. We always change the name of it, since we can never agree on what we should call ourselves. I take a quick look at the time. It’s almost three o’clock. School should be ending soon. I decide to text my friend Wilson to see what he’s up to.
“Hey Wilson,” I say through the digital words. “Are you coming to the party tonight?”
“I might,” he quickly replies. “I thought you were coming to school today, Edward. Are you sick?”
“No,” I answer. “Just not ready for the Summer to end. So, wanna meet up before we head over tonight?”
“I’ll see if I’m free or not,” Wilson says, “and I think Pasquale is coming too.”
“Pasquale? Pasquale Smith?” I question. “Why is he coming?”
“Apparently he’s bringing someone,” he tells me. There was a long pause before he texts back, “I think it’s a girl, too.”
I have met Pasquale a couple of times before. We had to work on a project once for a business class, and I kind of just let him do the whole thing. Apparently he didn’t like that, so he doesn’t really like me. I wonder if he knows if I’m performing or not. I know he has one friend who is a female. I tried to say hello to her once before, but she wasn’t interested in me. I feel the phone buzz again in my hand, and I open up the screen.
“You need to get her number,” Wilson tells me.
“Why?” I text back. “Is she really that great?”
“She’s the girl who lives in the old house on Mercury Lane. The house that nobody comes out of.”
I know exactly what house he is talking about. I’ve passed by it a couple of times before. It’s a very old house, to the point where you can hear it creaking every time you’re near it. The windows are almost a pitch black. Nobody has ever seen anyone leave or enter that house. I didn’t know anyone lived in it. Some people in school have said that a new person might be coming into school and that they were coming from that house. This girl that Pasquale is bringing must be that person.
“We’ll have to scout her out,” I type back. “Which means I probably have to talk to Pasquale. This should be fun.”
I place my purple beanie over my black and green dyed hair, open the door to my garage, and start to head out to meet up with Wilson. The guitar case hangs down at my side, and I can feel the picks in my front pocket. As I turn around to close the door, I see the sky turn a slight orange color as the sun starts to descend. I open the gates to the front of the mansion and walk out. I than walk towards the park, which is only a few blocks away. It only takes me a couple of minutes before I see the green trees peak behind the spaces in between houses. When I do reach the park entrance, Wilson was waiting for me right on the bench.
“Well, what songs are you performing tonight?” he asks me.
“Just some of our older songs like Rhythm of the Torch and Bed of Thoughts, nothing too big,” I answer.
“Oh, I remember Bed of Thoughts,” he smiles. “That took us at least a month to write. Wonder if Pasquale would like it, or if it would be too loud for him.”
We start to walk down to Marshall’s place. As soon as we turn the corner, we can see the bright lights coming from a small one-story home at the end of the street. The two of us enter into the house, and I’m immediately pulled aside by Tommy. Although his brown bangs are covering up most of his face, his eyes seem to have worry in them.
“Do you have the picks?” he questions, his voice full of panic.
“I have them right here,” I answer, pulling them out of my pocket.
“Oh thank goodness,” he sighs. “Marshall would’ve had a fit if I couldn’t play. He really wanted to show off our skills in front of Emily.”
“You mean that one popular girl who’s friends with Taylor? I thought she hated Marshall.”
“Apparently he got her to come here. She can sing almost as well as Daniel. Who knows, maybe we’ll have her be apart of the band!”
“I like having it be all guys, thought,” I sigh. “We’ll cross that path when we get there. Let’s just start getting things set up before it gets too late.”
We head inside, leaving Wilson behind with a couple of other people from school. There was a small clearing in the back behind the crowd of people.  A small drum set sat against the wall, and Marshall sits in the chair behind it, tapping the wooden sticks on the head of the drum closest to his right side. He’s quite tall, and seems to be made of only skin and bones. His blue eyes gaze at me as I lay my case in front of the arrangement of drums.
“We better start playing soon,” he tells me with his voice that was cracking with every word.
Tommy stands next to me, his brown guitar in his hand. Soon, Daniel joins us and stands in front of both Tommy and I. He then tells everyone to quiet down. When the tiny room starts to become almost silent, Daniel motions me to start. I pluck away at the strings, creating a harmonious sound to come through a small speaker set behind the drum set. Soon, Tommy and Marshall start playing their instruments. Once the song started, I spot someone in the tsunami of people inside the small room. I recognize the black hair dyed a bright white, and that pouty frown over a slim face. It was Pasquale all right, and another figure stands right next to him. I don’t remember seeing this person before, thought. Her hair is a chestnut brown, and her eyes are a pale grey. She is a bit shorter than him, and she seems to be hiding behind him. She must be the girl that lives in the old house on Mercury Lane.
All of a sudden, the song ends, and Daniel starts to sing the words to the next one. When he pauses, I play a few chords on my bright red electric guitar. I see the girl stare at the instrument in my hand, and then look back up at me. The song continues, and her gaze slowly shifts towards Daniel as he sings more lyrics.
“You were my Summer love, but now you’re just a bed of thoughts,” Daniel bellows as the notes escape his pierced lips.
It’s not long before the song ends, and it’s followed by applause. Marshall starts to play a few techno songs through the speaker, and I unplug my guitar. After placing the instrument in a safe place, I head back out into the party room. I spot Wilson in the mob of people. I shot out to him, and he turns around. I begin to walk over, until I spot who he was talking to. I pause for a second and stare at the boy with black and white hair stand next to the new girl.
“Edward, you have got to meet-” Wilson starts.
“Hello Pasquale,” I accidently interrupt him. “Long time, no see. Surprised you came.”
“I had to show my new friend around,” Pasquale points to the girl behind him.
“Hi,” she squeaks.
“This is Mystery,” he introduces her.
“Your name is Mystery?” I ask.
“Not actually,” Wilson corrects me. “We just call her that. It’s her nickname.” He than leans over to me and whispers, “She’s quite shy, so she doesn’t talk much. I’ll get you two alone somehow so you can get her number easier.”
I still have no idea why Wilson wants me to get her phone number. He treats it like it’s some type of trophy. Honestly, it sounds like something one of my band buddies would do to me. Then again, it might help me get over some thoughts that have been running through my mind. Wilson suddenly turns his head at Pasquale, and points across the room.
“I think they’re laying out some food. Want to go check it out?” he asks him.
“Sure. I’m getting kind of hungry. Would you like to come, Mystery?”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll stay here.
“You guys go ahead,” I tell them. “I’ll stay here with her.”
The two push their way through the crowd, leaving Mystery and I by ourselves. She seems to be looking at the ground, as if she’s terrified of me. I than proceed to ask if she would like to head outside and get away from the mob. She nods slowly, and we shove through at least hundreds of people. Mystery keeps close behind me as I lead us into the backyard, where nobody is. There’s a small half-wall made of bricks that lays in the very back of the lawn. I jump up and sit on the ledge. She hops up without any struggle and sits next to me, keeping a small distance.
“So,” I begin. “How long have you’ve been here?”
“Look, I know why you want to talk to me,” she stops the conversation. “You know I live in that weird house on Mercury Lane, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” I sigh. “I just had to know who you were.”
“At least you admit it,” she replies. “Most people try to fake it and say they don’t know what I’m talking about. I can’t believe that I’ve only been out for one day and I’ve become the most popular kid in school.”
“What’s it like?” I ask. “You know, living in a house all your life and never going out.”
“I don’t know how to explain it. It feels pretty normal, I guess. I don’t know much else besides being in my own home, and to be honest, I’m quite scared.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“I’ve never seen a guy before. My mother kept me as far away from them as possible, ever since Dad…“
Her voice trails off. I feel the cold air touch my shoulder. I move the leather jacket farther up my arms. She stares at it in confusion.
“What was that on your arm?” she asks.
“For a shy girl, you’re not that shy,” I change the conversation.
“What was that on your shoulder?” she asks again. “Do you have a tattoo? Can I see it?”
I look towards the ground. I don’t really show many my tattoo because it’s quite embarrassing, but I don’t really see any way out of this. I decide to show her anyways.
“Promise not to laugh?” I tell her.
“Why would I laugh?” she asks me.
I slowly pull the jacket sleeve off my shoulder. Mystery looks in amazement at my shoulder. On my arm lay a yellow and orange tulip with pink lettering on the bottom. She gently places her finger on my skin to get a better look at the drawing.
“It’s beautiful,” she says in awe. “I would have no idea that a guy like you would love flowers.”
“Oh, I do,” I sigh. “I even have a small garden in my backyard that I tend to often. Not such a manly thing to like, is it?”
“I don’t mind,” she smiles. “I like flowers too. I especially like red roses.” She takes another glance at the tattoo, and stares at the lettering. She then asks, “Who’s Mabel?”
“She’s my mother,” I answer, my voice becoming soft at the sound of her name. “She sadly passed away three years from today. I had her name put on my arm to remember her.”
“You don’t have a mother?” Mystery asks.
“Or a father,” I add on. “He left when I was younger. It’s just been my stepfather and I.”
Mystery breaks eye contact and stares at the grass below her feet. I do the same, unsure of what to say next. I hear a rustle next to me, and I turn my head ever so slightly to look at her. Mystery has a small paper in between her hand and she takes a pencil out from behind her ear. She writes something down, and then hands it to me. I gently take it, and she hops off the brick wall.
“I need to see where Pasquale is,” she says. “He’s kind of my ride home. See you later, Edward.”
Mystery then turns to leave. I gaze at the crumpled up paper between my hands. I unfold it as carefully as I could. On the tiny slip of paper was some numbers and dashes scribbled on in pencil. Once I realize what it is, I start to head back into the house.
I did it. I got her phone number.



Similar books


JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This book has 0 comments.