Messed Up Vita

Chapter Three

I am now on stage. Well, to the side, anyways. There's three people left, then I'm on. My lip hurts from me biting it so much, and I try to not bite my nails either. The only thing left I could do was crack my knuckles, which is one of my worst nervous habits. I keep cracking them one by one until they won't anymore. Now, I definitely feel like throwing up. But that would be worse than messing up a single note.

   I shift from foot to foot, staring ahead on the person preforming. She was singing, and was very, very high pitched. I cringe, not unkindly. It's just that my ears aren't used to the highness of those notes.

   "Nervous?" I hear a whisper. Joey appears at my side, also looking onto the stage. His black guitar was strung over his shoulder, and I can't see anybody else with him. Maybe he actually was by himself.

   "No," I lie. "Just can't wait to get on stage."

   He eyes me. "You're lying."

   "What?" I say, irritated.

   He looks at me straight in the eye. "You're moving around, and your voice is wavered. You're nervous. I can tell when people are lying, you know. Especially bad liars."

   "I'm not a bad liar!" I object. 

   He smiles and doesn't say anything, turning his gaze back to the stage. I roll my eyes, fingers moving around the strings of my instrument. The girl leaves the stage. Two people.

   "Hey, it's moving up," Joey says a bit bored like. "Whoo-hoo."

   "Do you even want to preform?" I ask, looking at him. 

   He looks down at me and pauses, as if deciding whether or not to tell me. "My girlfriend's making me."

   At those words, something inside of me deflates. I turn away, trying not to show. "Nice."

   It wasn't that I had a crush on him or anything, but that kind of hit me. Even he has somebody, and I don't. Somebody close to him. 

   "Lemme see your music," Joey says, opening his hand and moving his fingers in unison. I shake my head. "Why not?"

   "It's a surprise, remember?" I tell him. I hide them behind my back, away from his grasp in case he tries to snatch it away. The corner of his mouth turns up, amused. 

   "Smart girl," he mutters. "There one goes."

  I turn my head to see that a band had made it off the stage, and the two girls in front of me both walk into the stage. I'm next, I realize with another wave of dread. I take a deep breath, like I'm about to plummet into the ocean. I find myself biting my lip again.

   Joey seems to notice my nervous habit. "That'll hurt your bottom lip."

   I release the helpless lip. "Why do you care?"

   "Well, why wouldn't I?"

   "Because I just met you," I point out. "And you should care less about me."

   "Why?"

   I shrug. "Nobody else cares. I'm just a person in a room. Somebody to fill the space." Joey's bright eyes seem to darken, like I'd just hit a sensitive topic for him. He doesn't reply, so I turn my head to watch the girls. They were a duet, singing to Coldplay's Yellow. They were honestly terrible. Off key, not harmonized. I cringe more than when the high-voiced girl sang.

   Then they leave.

   Joey gently shoves me from behind on my shoulder. "You're up. Good luck."