Mixtape for the End of the World Page 2

  But in the middle of the room, sitting on a foldable black guitar rack, was a red Fender Telecaster.

  2

  ♪ Pearl Jam – Even Flow ♪

  “DOUG!” DEE SAID. “That’s too much!”

  Derrick was speechless. He looked up at Doug, almost as if to ask Is that mine?

  Doug just shrugged again. “Look, I wanted you guys to know that this is your home too. So, I figured a housewarming gift was in order.”

  Dee turned to Derrick, “Well?” she implored. “What do you say?”

  “Thank you so much,” he said. But Derrick was still in shock. He’d never had a brand-new guitar before. In the back of the U-Haul, his old Epiphone acoustic guitar was packed in its case. He couldn’t wait to get everything unpacked and play the new electric guitar.

  He’d always liked Telecasters and would often go to the Terry’s Music in Clearwater to play them whenever he could. He’d daydream about being able to go in one day and purchase one for himself.

  “Alright, let’s get to work,” Dee said. Derrick and Cassandra followed their mom and Doug back outside. On the way out, Doug stopped at the refrigerator in the garage and withdrew a handful of maroon soda cans, tossing one to each of them. They cracked them open, and Derrick drank his greedily. It tasted so good and felt so cold in his throat on the hot summer day.

  “We’ll get everything out and into the garage first so we don’t have to work all day in the sun,” Doug said.

  He unclasped the latch on the back of the U-Haul truck and threw it open. Hopping onto the deck, he started pulling out boxes, sliding them to the ledge, where Derrick and Cassandra would pull them down and place them in the garage. They left behind or sold all the large appliances back in Clearwater, so mostly they just packed their personal belongings. Aside from their beds, the mattresses stacked on their sides toward the back of the truck, the only large pieces of furniture were Cassandra’s vanity and Derrick’s large five-drawer dresser.

  Doug heaved a box from the truck. “Goodness,” he said, wiping his brow. “What’s in all these?”

  “Clothes, mostly,” Cassandra said, pulling the box down and sliding it across the concrete of the garage floor.

  Grabbing a box himself and sliding it into the garage, Derrick knew that was the truth. Cassandra had more clothes than anyone Derrick had ever known, even after donating two bags’ worth before leaving Clearwater.

  They worked like this over the course of the next hour and a half, stopping occasionally for a breather before finally getting the entire truck unloaded. Once they had all the boxes in the garage, Derrick and Cassandra were responsible for the boxes labelled with their names, tasked with taking them to their bedrooms to begin unboxing it all. Doug and Dee came in behind them, building the beds on their rails and putting the headboards in place.

  Derrick found his Walkman and pulled the headphones over his ears. He pushed play and Eddie Vedder’s voice filled his head. He let the music flood over him. The tape, a mixtape that was a parting gift from his friend Jerod back in Clearwater, was full of their favorite bands, including several songs off of Pearl Jam’s album Ten. They had both discovered music over the last year, finding solace in grunge bands like Pearl Jam and Fuel.

  By the time Derrick had all his belongings unpacked, he’d played through both sides of the tape. The room looked nice, if sterile. He’d take time to hang a few posters and make it more a reflection of himself, but for now he couldn’t wait to get his hands on that new guitar that called his name from the corner. He’d set his acoustic beside it, the instruments a makeshift shrine to his burgeoning passion.

  With the headphones still on his ears, he picked up the red Telecaster, feeling the weight of the instrument. The body, a solid block of ash with a maple fretboard and neck, was heavier than he’d anticipated. The back was a flat slab of wood with holes where the strings were anchored. He sat on the edge of his bed and strummed a few chords along with the Pearl Jam tape that he’d flipped back to Side A. He never noticed Doug standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Derrick looked up and pulled the headphones off his ears, letting them hang around his neck.

  “What do you think?” Doug asked.

  “It’s really cool. I’ve never had an electric guitar before.”

  “I know,” Doug said. “I thought it would help ease the transition. Plus, the Fender Telecaster is the ultimate rockstar guitar. Springsteen, Richards, both play this guitar. Dee thought it was excessive, but, hey, what kid doesn’t want an electric guitar? I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t know what to get Cassandra, so I gave her money to buy some new clothes at the mall.”

  “Yeah,” Derrick said. “That’s probably the best thing you could get her, honestly.” A smile crept across his face, and for the first time all day he felt relaxed, like things would be okay. “This guitar is really great. Thank you so much. I’m just,” he trailed off. Then, “I’m just not used to having nice things like this.”

  “I wanted to get you something to help you feel welcomed,” Doug said. He nodded to the headphones looped around Derrick’s neck. “What are you listening to?”

  “Oh, just a mixtape. Pearl Jam and stuff.” He showed Doug the cassette’s handwritten label which Jerod had scrawled the names of the bands and songs on it in Sharpie.

  “Oh yeah?” Doug’s eyebrows perked up. “When I was in Saudi Arabia, I had some buddies that were all into that Seattle grunge stuff, probably a year before Nirvana got really huge. A guy gave me a tape from a band called Mother Love Bone. Their guitarist went on to form Pearl Jam with Eddie Vedder and the rest of the guys.”

  “Really?” Derrick asked. To him, Doug always seemed more like a Garth Brooks or George Strait kind of guy, a country-loving lawman.

  “Yes sir. I was all into those bands, especially after I got back to the States and entered the police academy. We would copy tapes for each other, just like this. All this stuff coming out of Seattle during the big grunge explosion. Soundgarden, Mudhoney, all those guys. I might still have some of them, actually.” Doug chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I think they’re in a box in the attic space above the garage. Tomorrow, I’ll climb up there, see if I can find them.”

  “That would be cool,” Derrick said.

  “Well, listen, I hope you guys get settled in. I know moving is hard and can be scary, getting used to a new place,” Doug said. “I’ve been all over, and if there’s one piece of advice I can give, it would be to find people who make you feel at home. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” As they talked, Derrick could hear the tape begin to warble. He looked down at the Walkman clipped to his waistband of his jeans. The battery indicator was flashing. “Oh no,” he said. “Batteries are going dead.”

  “I think I have some double-A’s in the kitchen drawer,” Doug pointed a thumb down the hall.

  “No, I have some in my backpack. I left it out in mom’s car though,” Derrick said.

  “Alright, well, shut the garage door when you’re done. It’s the button by the door.”

  “I will,” Derrick nodded.

  “I’m heading upstairs to help your mom finish unpacking. If you need anything else, let me know. I hope you like it here. We’ll get to know each other really well.”

  Derrick nodded again, and Doug went down one end of the hall to the stairs that led up to the master suite, and Derrick headed through the kitchen and into the garage. He pulled the backdoor of the Corolla open and found his backpack, the canvas bag still warm from being in the car all evening. Checking the top pocket to make sure the package of batteries was still in there, he slung it over his shoulder and started back into the garage.

  A single-cab pickup truck, its blue paint looking almost black in the darkness, pulled up to the curb of the house next door and Derrick glanced over and stopped in his tracks.

  The pickup’s passenger door opened and a girl stepped out. She loo
ked to be his age, but was more gorgeous than any person he’d ever seen in his life. Even in the glow of the streetlamp lights that lined the street, she was captivating. Long brown hair fell down her shoulders and she glided more than she actually walked. The truck roared off, its muffler breaking the silence of the moment.

  The girl started walking up the pathway to her front door and looked over at Derrick, standing in the light of the open garage.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Derrick, his whole body going tense with teenage nervousness, quickly waved and went inside, hitting the garage door button harder than he’d meant to.

  3

  ♪ Goo Goo Dolls – Fallin’ Down ♪

  THE ENTIRETY OF the next week was a lonely blur of school registration, class scheduling and shopping for supplies. Derrick wondered what that first day would be like, starting sophomore year in a new place. Despite being a grade apart, both he and Cassandra had the same history class—World History—since their previous school taught the history classes in a different order.

  On the morning of that first day, Derrick got dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans, his black Chuck Taylors and a black t-shirt emblazoned with the CBGB logo across the front. He’d never been to New York, never even been to a punk rock concert before, but he’d once seen the lead singer of the Third Eye Blind wearing the exact same shirt. He found one at the mall in Clearwater back at the beginning of summer and snatched it up almost immediately.

  Going into the kitchen, he found Cassandra sitting at the kitchen bar in one of the stools that resided at it. Though Doug’s house—their house, he had to remind himself, though it still didn’t quite feel like home—had a formal dining room, they ate most of their meals together at the bar in the kitchen. Cassandra was working on a bowl of cereal when Derrick walked in. Her hair, normally frizzy and curled, was straightened, falling well below her shoulder blades. She wore a skirt that barely went to her knees. Turning to see him as he shuffled in, she gave him a once over.

  “You look like a slob,” she said.

  “Well, you look like a prep,” he retorted.

  Cassandra scoffed as she shoved a spoonful of Froot Loops in her mouth. Dee came down from upstairs, followed by Doug in his police uniform.

  “Good morning,” Dee said. She looked at Derrick. “That’s what you’re wearing on the first day?” she asked, giving him a judgmental up-and-down.

  Derrick shrugged. “This is what I like.”

  “I just thought you’d want to make a good first impression,” his mother said.

  Doug clapped him on the shoulder. “Leave the boy alone. You want him to go to school on the first day looking like Urkel?”

  “Well, no,” Dee argued. “But I don’t want him looking like Kurt Cobain either.”

  Derrick feigned mourning. “May he rest in peace,” he muttered.

  Cassandra scoffed again. “God, he’s been dead since we were in kindergarten.”

  “It’s only been five years, Cass,” Derrick said as he shot her a look of disdain. “I know you were in kindergarten five years ago, but only because you had to repeat it a half dozen times.”

  “Whatever,” Cassandra said. “Anyway, don’t talk to me today. I don’t want you to ruin my first day by people knowing we’re related.”

  “Cassandra Nicole,” Dee said as she poured a cup of coffee after pulling a mug from the counter. “That’s not nice.”

  “I’m not trying to be nice, mom,” she said. “I’m trying to make new friends.”

  “I don’t want people thinking I’m the brother of some snobby prep like you anyway,” Derrick said.

  “That’s enough,” Dee said, her hands on her hips. “Both of you.”

  Doug chuckled to himself as he held out his travel mug for Dee to fill from the glass carafe. He kissed her. “Alright. I’ll see you guys this evening,” he said. “Enjoy your first day. And please, don’t give your mom a hard time.”

  “We won’t,” both Derrick and Cassandra said, almost in unison.

  “I won’t be home until close to seven,” Doug said as he sipped his coffee. “What kind of pizza do you guys want? I’ll stop by Pizza Point on my way home.”

  “Do they have deep dish?” Derrick asked.

  “They make a great Chicago-style pie,” Doug said. “That sounds really good.”

  Dee and Cassandra both requested a supreme pizza, full of mushrooms, peppers and Italian sausage. Derrick preferred his pizza simple—pepperoni and cheese.

  Doug kissed his fiancé again and left through the garage door. Cassandra went back to her cereal as Derrick poured himself a bowl from the box. He poured in enough milk until the bowl nearly overflowed with pastel rings of sugar.

  “We need to leave in about 15 minutes,” Dee said.

  “I think I’m going to walk,” Derrick said.

  Dee raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t want to be seen with mom on the first day?”

  Derrick mumbled a “No, I think I’ll be fine” with a mouthful of cereal.

  “God, Derrick. Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude,” Cassandra hissed.

  In response, he rolled his eyes and shoved another spoon of cereal into his mouth, chomping loudly.

  Dee snapped her fingers. “What did I say? Be nice.” The last two words were sharp and succinct.

  After finishing his breakfast, Derrick grabbed his backpack and Walkman from his bedroom, kissed his mom goodbye and started down the road. As he walked on the sidewalk, he glanced at the house next door, the one where the girl that he’d seen the night they moved in lived. He’d seen her in passing a couple of times since, every time stopping in his tracks. He had no idea what her name was or anything else about her other than that she lived next door and she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He hoped that, as he walked past, she would come out from the front door at the same time. In his imagination, he thought about walking to school together.

  “Oh hey,” he would say. “You walk to school too?”

  “I do,” she would answer. “What grade are you in?”

  “I’m a sophomore.”

  “No way! Me too!”

  They would walk side-by-side and he would fall in love with every word she spoke.

  However, it didn’t happen. He walked by, the front door held shut, not seeing the girl next door. After he passed her house, he pulled his headphones over his shaggy blonde hair and pushed play on the Walkman. He had put in a tape that Doug had found in the attic. It was from a band called Goo Goo Dolls. Derrick had heard a couple of their songs, but Doug explained that before they were mainstream, they were a punk band from Buffalo, and that he should give the tape a listen. So, he shoved it in the device before walking out the door and let the sounds drown out his anxiety and first-day jitters. He found himself bobbing his head to the music. It was raw and edgy. He couldn’t believe this was Doug’s at one time.

  The walk to school was an uneventful eight blocks. As he got closer to the campus, he saw more cars, could hear the cacophony of music blaring from vehicle sound systems in the high school’s parking lot.

  The sprawling campus looked huge, from the main building, to the gym and football field. As he got closer, Derrick pulled his class schedule from his back pocket to determine which door to go through. The first class listed was Biology I, in room 1102. His mother had brought both him and Cassandra to the school earlier that week to see where their classes were, but now he wished he’d spent more time paying attention to the exact location of each classroom. He hadn’t even made it to the front doors of the school and he already felt lost.

  In front of the school, sandwiched between the front entrance and a large horseshoe drive through, was a collection of round concrete tables and benches. There were several groups of students congregated there, all different stereotypical cliques. It didn’t matter which school or which city you were in, the group dynamics remained static. A huddle of boys in athletic shorts and letter jackets—despite the te
mperature climbing close to eighty degrees in the afternoons—stood together while another group of boys in baggy jeans and beanies played hacky sack in a circle nearby.

  There was a group of girls huddled together, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Though Derrick scanned their faces for the girl next door, she was nowhere to be seen.

  Derrick didn’t know where to go. He knew he would stick out like a sore thumb sitting by himself on one of those concrete tables, but he didn’t know how to approach any of the kids to introduce himself. Before he could, the bell rang, a sharp, high-pitched chime breaking through the sound of music in his headphones. He fell in order behind the rest of the students as they all started making their way into the halls of the school.

  Fluorescent lights above them shone brightly, reflecting off the speckled linoleum floor. The lockers lining the hallway, all in Mount Vernon maroon and white, were rushed upon as students began depositing their backpacks and pulling supplies for their first classes.

  Derrick looked again at his class schedule and decided to try to spend the next four minutes looking for the classroom. He’d find his locker later.

  “1102,” he said aloud to himself. An open door close by had a black plaque with white lettering mounted next to it. It read 1120, which meant he should be able to find 1102 at the end of this long hall.

  Shouldering his way down the hallway, Derrick followed the plaques mounted beside each door until he got to 1102. He stood in front of the door and stared at it, confused.

  It was the supply closet.

  He looked down at his schedule again to verify that he’d read it correctly then looked back up at the sign on the wall beside the door: 1102 SUPPLIES

  “Are you lost?”

  The girl’s voice came from beside him and, pulling his headphones off his ears, he turned to the source.

  It was her.

  The neighbor girl.

  She wore a pair of jeans that flared at the bottom and a blue spaghetti strap shirt covered by a denim jacket. A black choker necklace fit snugly around her neck. She looked gorgeous, with her brown hair framing her round face and falling over her shoulders.