The Rockstar Chronicles

The Rockstar

"Mom. Mom! Mom!!!" I screamed as I ran down the hall, my voice growing louder with every step. I ran for my life, literally, because my older brother was hot on my heels, his dirty socks clenched in one fist. One whiff of that and I would be a goner.

"Mom!" I gasped out as I ran into the kitchen counter separating the dining room from the kitchen area. I slapped my hands down on the cool surface as I doubled over, struggling to catch my breath.

My mother made a tsking sound of disapproval. "Melinda." I knew then my mother was not amused. After years of fighting it, she, like everyone else, usually called me Lindy. Except for when she was mad.

"Mom, he's teasing me again."

"Lindy." My mother sighed, rubbing her forehead like she did when she was stressed. "Can you please try to get along with your brother?"

"But Mom...," I started to protest, but she ignored me, turning to my brother, Grady, instead. "Have you heard anything?"

Grady shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face. "No." He leaned against the table, his elbow thrusting forward. My brother was double-jointed. I should be used to it, but it still made me feel a little queasy when he put weight on his arms, and they looked obviously broken in response.

"When would I have heard from them? You've been waiting by the phone."

"I haven't been waiting...," my mother corrected him. "But it is a very important audition. From what I understand, that man has big ideas. And connections. If you could get this...." Reaching over the counter, my mother brushed some of Grady's blond hair out of his eyes.

She let her words linger in the air, and I felt the heavy importance of them. If you can get this.... I couldn't count the number of times we had heard it throughout our lives. For a moment, I felt sorry for Grady. Then I happened to glance at the socks he held clutched against the cabinet in one hand, and my pity quickly disintegrated.

"I know, Mom," Grady said, all seriousness now. He nodded gravely, shaking loose the hair my mother had just tried to tame. "I thought we had it."

"Uh, uh, uh." Mom shook her head. "We do not think negatively in this house. We are going to think positively about this. You haven't not gotten it until we hear it from them."

"What is it, anyway?" I climbed onto one of the tall kitchen stools. I was definitely the shortest one in the family. The anomaly. Grady easily swung one long leg over the stool and plopped down next to me.

Mom pressed her lips into a thin line. "Just an audition." I knew then it was definitely a big deal. There was something she wasn't mentioning. I glanced at Grady, and he met my gaze. His clear gray eyes looked troubled.

Me and Grady had been extremely close until a couple of years ago. It had been me and him against our mother, the ultimate stage mom. But then, as Grady's work picked up and mine fell short, the pressure on him had intensified, and he had changed. His usual easy going, carefree nature became tenser, more stressed. He distanced himself from me, focused on work, and we grew apart. Gradually, Grady became the sun, the center of the universe in the Madison household, and Dad and I were left to fend for ourselves.

But one thing had remained from our years of companionship. We had developed, as children, the ability to read each others expressions, to tell what the other was thinking by the look on their face. It had been our primary defense against our mother. It was an ability much harder to lose than our friendship.

And right now I could tell Grady was only slightly less clueless than I was. He doesn't know what's going on either. Looking back, I know now that it was then I first felt the sick feeling in my stomach.

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