Inspired by Where Do All the Good Kids Go? by Maddie Zahm
A metallic-tasting fluid filled my mouth. I swallowed. The cut inside my lip made it well up again.
Dampness was building under the neck of the guitar slung over my shoulder. A trickle of sweat ran down my forearm, but I didn’t dare try to wipe it away.
The hall was brightly lit, but not bright enough to blind me to the solemn expressions staring towards the stage I stood on. They weren’t focused on me, though. I watched as my best friend took in whatever words were spoken by a middle-aged couple standing beside the coffin of his late sister.
I glanced back at the empty keyboard. The drums on the other side would tell the same story. I turned back to the congregation.
This was crazy. I shouldn’t have been up there.
Yet I was—thirteen and leading worship at my best friend’s sister’s funeral. I was honoured. I had only played a few times at youth group. But this was too much.
Someone was dead.
“Isn’t there anyone else who can do this?” I begged him. Elliot Parker averted my eyes. I knew his sister had just passed away, and they were preparing the funeral, but why were they asking a kid to do the worship?
“Hamish, please do this for me,” he pleaded back, “Or at least for Fiona.”
I hesitated at the mention of his sister. He continued, “Natalie is away. Jackson is sick. And I don’t think our drummer could lead.” The names of our absent worship team members rang in my ears. It really did seem the next closest thing he could get was me.
Looking over the tear-streaked faces, I saw some contempt and disapproval. It was no surprise that, among them, were the kids I should’ve been sitting with.
Why is he up there? Just because his friend’s sister died?
He’s getting too big for his boots.
The church isn’t a soloist’s concert hall...
I wanted to be down there, blend into the crowd. But as I watched the couple take a seat, followed by Elliot, I knew I had to fake it and be the responsible adult I couldn’t be.
I stepped forward towards the microphone, glancing at the handwritten note clipped to the music stand. My script was already decided. I swallowed the foul taste in my mouth.
Deep breath...
“I want to thank everyone who is here to pay their respects to our beloved sister, Fiona Parker. May she rest in peace.”
I found Elliot’s gaze at the front easy enough, but my next words were stuck in my throat. His usually flushed face, which matched the fiery-coloured hair swept over his eyes, was ghastly pale. I tightened my grip on the guitar, my nails digging into the strings.
“And I give my sincere condolences to our brother Elliot.”
He looked away. I’m so sorry, El, I whispered to myself. You know there is so much more I want to say, but I just can’t. I’m sorry…
To most people in that room, Fiona was a fun-loving young woman ready to take on the world. But to Elliot, she was not only his sister, but his mother and father. I knew his loss was greater than anything in my life.
But as the words of the music rolled off my tongue, my stomach churned, and my mind grew hazy. I don’t know how I kept my fingers from fumbling over the strings. I knew the people I was facing wouldn’t see me as the same little kid anymore. And I knew the thought of death would never leave my side.
We were both alone in this world.
***
Ten years later.
I stared at the amber liquid pouring into my half-full glass. How many would this be now? I couldn’t remember.
Music boomed from the portable loudspeakers. I pressed my palm to my forehead. I tried to blame the flashing lights for the throbbing over the liquor.
“Didn’t think you’d have it in ya, Hamish.” I glanced left at the bloke who'd refilled my glass, leaning against the table.
“You thought I was a lightweight?” I took a few large gulps of beer to prove otherwise, my stomach clenching in protest.
“Your mate, El, says this is your first time properly drinking.”
“I don’t exactly find myself invited to house parties or pubs that often.”
He laughed and slapped me jokingly on the back. I winced.
“Cheer up, man. Nah, drink up! We’re gonna do a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’.” He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took it over to the group milling around the lounge.
“I think I’ll pass,” I mumbled, but I doubt my words ever reached his ears.
Elliot was there. We’d all grown up. He was laughing with our mates from university, shots in hand. Yet somehow, it still felt like we were those kids, trying to catch up to the other adults. The thought of death kept lingering over me. The pale faces. The heavy air. The glares of disapproval following me off that stage. I was too scared to go out. Too scared to live.
I rested my head in my forearms on the table. I’d never drunk that much, let alone end up wasted.
“Not a fan?”
My head shot up, and I locked eyes with the prettiest hazel I’d ever seen.
“Of drinking? Not at the moment.”
The girl giggled behind her hand. Glossy pink nail polish.
Cute.
“I meant playing their games over there, but I guess that also involves drinking.” Her words were a little slurred, but I didn’t care. She swept her long, ash-blonde hair over her bare shoulders. Even sitting next to me, I could tell the black mini hugged her body in all the right places. Her arm rubbed against mine, her skin soft, warm and smooth. An electric shot pulsed through me. Her lashes fluttered as her gaze ran down my profile. Heat flushed over my body. The alcohol wasn’t helping the accelerated beating in my chest.
“Are you going to join them?” I asked, my words no better than a lousy whisper.
“Nah.” She leant in so close I could smell the alcohol on her soft breath, her hand gently weaving through my hair. “But I’d join you.” Closing my eyes, we got lost in each other’s arms.
I couldn’t tell the difference between fun and danger. It was exhilarating. Like another intoxicating liquor. How lost we all were.
Lost way too young.
