Eric Smith - Battle of the Bands

Beckett Scibelli didnt believe in omens . But if she did, she wouldve bailed out of her familys U-Haul in the middle of I-70 and run screaming along the median all the way back to Peoria, Illinois, and let her family go to New Jersey without her.

The first omen was her snare drum disappearing the morning before they moved. Shed almost had a heart attack when she couldnt find it. Then it reappeared hey, presto in her parents empty walk-in closet the minute before they locked up the condo for good. I dont know, Becks, her dad said while the two of them played furniture Jenga, trying to stuff the drum into the overstuffed truck. Did leprechauns do it? Real industrious mice? Did you maybe do it in your sleep?

Dont listen to him, her mom said, hopping down from the cab. She lifted the bill of her Cardinals cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. You know your father. When hes distracted, he picks things up and just... takes them places.

Its like I give them a little vacation. Her dad waggled his eyebrows. I whisk them off on mysterious missions, off into the great unknown...

Billy. Her mom giggled. Stop it!

Her mom thought her dad was hilarious, which was good. Someone had to.

It was Becketts cue to make a gagging sound, so she did, wiggling the snare bag in next to the one that held her floor tom. Their gigantic coffee table wobbled threateningly over her drum kit, and she shot it a look. Stay, she told it. Then: Hailey, when you were packing up the basement... are you sure you didnt move my snare?

Her twin was uncharacteristically quiet, staring down their driveway into the condos across the street like she could see straight through them into the fields beyond. No, Hailey said, and without another word, she got into the minivan. Shed convinced their parents to let them drive it so she and Beckett could say goodbye to Peoria together, on their own terms. Beckett had sort of imagined them rolling down the windows, yelling BYE, SUNOCO STATION and BYE, STEAK N SHAKE and BYE-BYE, PHS, like a pair of giddy overgrown toddlers.

But Hailey didnt talk at all that day, just brooded out the windshield behind her scratched-up Clubmasters while Beckett said goodbye in her head.

The second omen was when their family stopped for the night at a Holiday Inn Express in Zanesville, Ohio. Zany Zanesville, Beckett said, but Hailey didnt even smile. The parking lot was packed, and so they followed the U-Haul to the mall lot across the street. She turned off the engine and just sat there for a long moment, her hands still clutching the steering wheel.

You okay, Hay? Beckett asked. Shed been trying to give her space, but this was pretty dramatic, even for her sister.

Hailey swallowed, looked up at the ceiling. I hate Holiday Inn Express, she said, and slammed her way out of the car.

Beckett took their duffel out of the trunk and followed. Did Danny text you and I just not see it, or

Both girls looked reflexively at the U-Haul. Their parents were still in the cab, looking at something together on their moms phone.

Do you think I would be this upset if Danny had texted me? Hailey hissed.

I dont know! Maybe! I mean, if Dad saw you? Or if Danny texted and told you he was happy you were leaving? Or if he texted and told you he had, like, tattooed your name across his forehead

Haileys mouth twitched. That would make me mad?

It wouldnt? Beckett grinned, dropping the duffel between them on the asphalt. The air shimmered in the early-evening heat. Your name, three-inch Gothic letters, the y, like, curling down into his eyeball

I dont know, loverpants. Three-inch letters? Thats commitment.

Cant get mad about that, Beckett said as kindly as she could, because Hailey was cheering up, and because she knew as well as Hailey did that Danny was a major douchebag who probably started hooking up with Jenna Marten the second the Scibellis pulled out of Peoria.

Ill be okay, Hailey said, picking up their bag. Their parents were clambering down from the truck, finally, laughing like they always were, the two of them in on some really bad private joke. I just wish I was as okay as you are. You are so okay with all of this, leaving the Sleepyheads behind and everything. How are you okay?

Beckett grabbed Haileys hand and squeezed it. We have our own music. We have Miss Somewhere. Were gonna be okay.

And then they turned toward the road, and there it was, omen number two, with a lease space available sign on the door: a faded old husk of a Guitar Center. She could see the shadows where the lettering used to be.

That wouldve been bad enough, but Hailey dropped her hand and ran toward the door.

Hay, what are you ?

She tugged on the handle. Locked, she said. Too bad. I wouldve grabbed it for you.

Just inside the glass, on the other side of the door, a hi-hat cymbal lolled like the head of a horror-movie clown.

Shit. On instinct, Beckett made the sign of the cross.

Kiddos, you coming? their dad yelled from the crosswalk.

Okay, Mother Teresa, Hailey said, a little spooked. Lets go get you some minibar M&Ms so you can chill the hell out.

Omen number three bided its time. It waited through the rest of their drive to New Jersey until they unpacked most of their boxes into the echoing, giant house their mom got with her new marketing job in Manhattan. Her commute into the city was about an hour, and so that first Monday, their dad dropped her off at the train station, then swung over to deposit Hailey and Beckett at Raritan River High School. It was huge.

All of Peoria could fit inside there, Beckett said, staring up at it through the window, and there would probably be room for Springfield, too. Hailey just grinned.

Call me if you need me, their dad called, too loud, as Beckett snatched her backpack out of the back seat. Kids turned to look. Someone snickered, because of course they did.

At the front office, Beckett and Hailey got their schedules and compared them as they pushed their way through the hall. It was actual pushing: the hallway was wall to wall with people and their bags and their elbows, nothing like PHS back home. Beckett sidestepped a bunch of emo kids and almost brained herself on an open locker door.

Jesus H. Christ, she said. They pulled up by the locker deck theyd been assigned, and Beckett began twirling her combination lock with shaking fingers. This is monstrous. I knew it was going to be bad coming in on the third week, but I didnt know how bad. This is nothing like PHS

Hailey was only half listening. The whole of the Raritan River soccer team was streaming by, chanting what sounded like GO, KEG, GO.

That cant be right, Beckett said. Keg?

I think they were saying Ken, loverpants.

Are you sure? What if the school mascots a keg? What kind of school is this, anyway?

Beck, what happened to okay? I thought you were okay.

I left my okay in Zanesville, Ohio, Beckett said, at the Guitar Center Haunted House. And when she finally yanked her locker open, omen number three came pouring out.