body spam

2

                Time passed, as it usually does. Before I knew it, it was time for the Battle of the Bands.

Body Spam played 5th. The entire time before the show, I'd been nervously drumming on every surface available. I knew Celice would be there, cheering me on – she'd promised. Regardless, I was also cripplingly nervous. The stakes were higher this year. If I fucked up, not only would I fuck up in front of an audience – I'd fuck up in front of her. And somehow, when we practiced in private, or when we played actual shows, I was fine – but playing in front of my actual peers was different. I'd have to see these people on Monday. I'd have to graduate with these fucking people.

Before we got up on stage, we did a bit of a huddle.

"We're gonna knock 'em dead. Y'all know that, right?" asked Winter.

"HELL YEAH!" we all yelled, as was the ritual.

We all pounded our fists in the center of the circle before going up on stage.

I tried not to notice the crowd, which wasn't hard, since I was hidden behind the drum set. Still, anxiety pulsed through my veins.

"AS YOU ALL SHOULD KNOW BY NOW...WE'RE BODY SPAM!" yelled Winter.

It was my time to shine.

Tss, tss, tss, tss.

For once, I found myself able to channel my anxiety into drumming, instead of it working against me. It was an abnormally warm October day and the Sun pounded onto my unprotected face as I began to drum. I started to imagine the notes I was hitting in visuals, as if I was playing Rock Band or something. It just felt...right.

I rode that wave all through our set, drumming intuitively. It was as if, before, I'd been trying to learn a different language, translating first before speaking; now, I was drumming fluently, like how you can effortlessly speak a different language in a dream. And, yeah, it didn't feel real. I felt detached to my body, attached to the rhythm. The rhythm was all that was real.

At the end of the show, we all approached the front of the stage and bowed in unison. The crowd was cheering – not sarcastically, as they had for some of the other bands. They genuinely seemed to enjoy our set.

"Bro," said Winter sternly as we exited the stage.

"What?"

"We all did really well up there, but you? I don't know if you've been practicing on your own or what –"

"I haven't."

"Well, you fucking blew the rest of us out of the water. You've never played a sharper, more precise set in your life. I have no idea how you did that, but I'm still just...holy shit, my guy."

"Yeah?"

"God, yes. Would I lie to you?"

I knew I'd be riding that high for the rest of my life.

---

When I got home, my parents were once again waiting for me in the living room. The news was on TV again. I didn't care at all.

I was walking on clouds, feeling euphoric, like I'd conquered the world.

"Nick, come on in here," said Dad.