Release

ch. 02// meet the band

≫ch. 02//
「micah」
"So, please explain to me why you think this is a sign." Kevin asked me as he leaned forward in his metallic chair, elbows on his knees. A pose I could only refer to as the 'Dr. Phil pose'.

I groaned, exasperated. "How is a balloon on your door step, with a phone number written on it, not a sign, Kid?"

He glanced down at the yellow latex in my hand and smirked, "It's deflated."

"You expect it to be full of air?" I clicked my tongue sarcastically, "I knew it should have rang my doorbell."

"Alright, alright," Johnny said pulling a chair up next to Kevin and me, "are you gonna call it?"

It's a balloon. Normally a balloon would not have kicked up such an interest in me or my friends considering we were well over the age of five. But this one was yellow and this one had a number tied neatly to its string like it went on a long adventure to find me and barely made it to my doorstep. Well technically my drive way but, it made it to my address and that was a sign.

A sign good enough for a desperate drummer of a band to grab a hold of. This number could belong to some talent agent looking for a hip new sound. Or it could belong to some unsuspecting old man whose number was randomly selected off the heads of bored teenagers during a sleep over. But we would all never know unless I tried.

I tugged the dirtied aluminum foil out of its knot and unfolded it to reveal the number once again. The boys huddled around my phone as I dialed the number and nimbly pressed the speaker button.

Suspense ensued as we all impatiently waited ring after ring. Kevin gave up hope and started to play his bass and just as I was about to end the call, a girl answered.

"Yeah?"

The strums of Kevin's bass stopped and a shocked chuckle escaped Johnny as I stared at the phone in my hand.

"Hello?" She asked impatiently with confusion lingering on her voice.

"Uh, yeah. My name is Micah," I managed to force out, "I just wanted to tell you that I found your number...On this balloon believe it or not."

I heard a gasp in the background followed by some fumbling.

"Yeah...yeah, I wrote it there," the voice had changed to a different girl who possessed a significantly less vibrant character.

"Well...Uh, I just...thought I should give it a ring."

"Ok," was all she said.

"Thought it could be a sign," I trailed, gnawing uncomfortably at my thumb nail.

"Oh..." the uncomfortable air intensified.

"Well, sorry for bothering you."

"It's no problem," she mumbled with a hint of a sigh. And before the air could successfully suffocate me, we said our goodbyes and hung up.

The room remained quiet until Kevin finally got up and clapped a broad hand on my back, "Well, what'd you expect?"

I shrugged.

Something a little more than that, that's for sure. Am I crazy for thinking someone who would give their number out to the universe would be a little more interesting? I imagined them to be open-minded and wild. Bright, fun, and full of innovative ideas. But this girl...she had the voice of the girl I could imagine but that was about it. And the words she formed with it were about as fun as an old wet rag- they hung awkwardly in the room, gray and stale.

Johnny took the balloon, flashing its yellow, along with the number and crinkled it in his hands. "Alley-oop!" he shouted as he tossed them to Kevin who then seamlessly threw them into a bin. Then he turned to me, his head cocked to the side and his shoulders shrugged, "Maybe it did mean something. Maybe it was the world telling you that 'signs' make people uncomfortable."

"Yeah, like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster. Not everyone wants to hear about it," Kevin chimed in picking up his bass, "what I do want to hear though, are those beautiful drums you play."

I rolled my eyes but sat behind the bass drum anyway and counted off the song we've been practicing.