#freak flags

A vast, open sea of adoring fans spilled from boulevard to boulevard. They roared the name of Big Time Rush, drowning in their own voices and gasping for each individual member like oxygen. A myriad of signs surfaced from the crowd that read the desires of the fans who held them. The melody to Big Time Rush’s Famous crashed onto the shoreline of the venue from the stage, submerging anyone who got too close in waters they could never rise from.

Kendall continuously gestured to Jo in the crowd who raised a sign that read, “I ♡ Kendall!”. Logan turned countless heads and dropped numerous jaws with backflip after backflip. James sang with his fingers tightly roped around his microphone like his lungs would swell with symphonies at a moment’s notice. Carlos waltzed across the stage with an irresistible, unforgettable, carefree spunk like no one was watching. Even as the final cadences of the song crept into existence, everyone in attendance was certain Big Time Rush’s performance was a rousing success.

Kelly and Gustavo stood offstage, nodding their heads and rocking their bodies to the rhythm. The music moved them in ways they couldn’t quite describe. For a moment—a fleeting, fist-pumping, hip-swaying moment—everything felt perfect. Not a single force in existence nor any person alive could spoil the euphoria of Rocktoberfest.

Griffin grabbed Kelly and Gustavo each by the shoulder, donning a pair of rimless sunglasses and a grin that earned him all the revenue and good press he could ever dream of. “This has been the best Rocktoberfest ever!” he proclaimed while Kelly and Gustavo rejoiced with a fist bump for the ages. Griffin soon drifted away, flaunting his all access pass like a trophy and dancing his way past the security guards.

The crowd shrieked at decibels Big Time Rush had never known once they finally surrendered the song to their fans’ memories, thus concluding their performance. They remained onstage where they waved to a sea of nameless faces and thanked them for an outstanding turnout. Kendall blew a kiss to Jo and received one in return. His friends egged him on with reassuring pats to the back and playful nudges to the arm. Together they basked in the spotlight that only the eyes of their audience could provide.

“Okay, show’s over. Time to get the dogs offstage.” Gustavo declared, his face taking a small dip in a pond’s worth of annoyance.

“Gustavo, they’re just having fun. Look at how happy they are.” Kelly cooed while holding her mulberry pink zipper binder flush against her chest. “Can’t they stay out there just a little while longer?”

Gustavo’s gaze stretched beyond the threshold that separated him from the limelight. He removed his sunglasses from the perch of his nose and squinted past his preconceived notions of Big Time Rush to see them for who they really were in the moment. They weren’t teenage mongrels who constantly questioned Gustavo’s authority nor were they loud-mouthed troublemakers with astronomical senses of impulsivity that kept Gustavo perpetually bound to a bottle of Aspirin. They were simply four boys celebrating their combined efforts at achieving stardom and finding solace in the present. Not even someone as rigid and austere as Gustavo could deny them this moment. This was only one of many victories that had yet to come.

“Fine, they can have their little moment of triumph.” Gustavo sneered, masking his pride behind a stone cold look of indifference.

“You’re proud of them, aren’t you?” Kelly teased with a smile that hit the roof of her face.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.” Gustavo said monotonously while refusing to make eye contact.

While the crowd rhythmically and repeatedly chanted Big Time Rush’s name, Gustavo’s cellphone buzzed in his back pocket and compelled him to fish it out with great urgency. He couldn’t understand why anyone would call him at a time like this nor did he recognize the phone number plastered across the screen.

“Who is it?” Kelly inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“I have no idea, but I think the area code is from… New York?” Gustavo uttered cluelessly.

“New York? Who do you know in New York who doesn’t hate your guts?” Kelly scoffed in disbelief.

“Very funny, Kelly.” Gustavo grumbled while plunging his thumb onto the bottom of the screen to answer the call and slap the screen against his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Gustavo.” Hawk smirked with a malevolent chuckle slowly rising above the horizon of his throat.

“H-Hawk!” Gustavo squeaked in shock.

“Aww, you still recognize my voice after all this time. I’m almost flattered.” Hawk snickered teasingly.

“How are you even calling me? You’re supposed to be in jail!” Gustavo squawked.

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with.” Hawk answered sinisterly.

“Who is it?” Kelly inquired.

“It’s Hawk!” Gustavo croaked.

“Oh, good, Kelly’s there, too!” Hawk grinned contentedly. “Put me on speakerphone, Gustavo. I have an important message for the two of you.”

Gustavo held out his cellphone and dipped his forefinger into a button that chimed with a monotonous beep. He and Kelly awaited Hawk’s message on bated breath, but refused to give him the satisfaction that he puppeteered their emotions with the strings of suspense.

“First and foremost, I’d like to congratulate you on the success of Big Time Rush’s first tour.” Hawk began. “That and their outstanding performance at Rocktoberfest. They seem to be consistently making national news.”

“Where are you going with this, Hawk?” Gustavo shot daggers at his screen.

“Not to spoil the festivities or anything, Gustavo, but I thought it wouldn’t be fair to you if I kept this a secret…” Hawk stroked his chin.

“Kept what a secret?” Gustavo furrowed his brows.

“My newest rising star and your soon-to-be competition.” Hawk outstretched his hand and watched as the gem of his studded signet ring glistened in the reflection of sunlight cascading through his window. “By year’s end I’ll have finished what I started, and Big Time Rush will be nothing but Big Time Has-Beens.”

Gustavo and Kelly collectively gasped into the receiver and worriedly met each other’s gazes. They choked on the uncertainty of Hawk’s whereabouts and the specifics of his plan of ultimate industrial domination. Whatever he had planned and whomever he chose as a pawn in his convoluted scheme, only one thing was made certain; time was of the essence, and it was waning fast.

“I hope you two enjoyed the spotlight because this is the last of it you’ll ever see.” Hawk signed off with his signature avian shriek that crackled through the receiver before ending the call. “Caw!”

As Gustavo and Kelly stood frozen in the midst of their own hysteria, Big Time Rush finally concluded their victory lap and sauntered offstage with the satisfaction of a job well done. Their smiles were unbreakable, their spirits were sky-high, and their hearts still raced with the rush of wowing the crowd at every turn.

“Gustavo, Kelly, that was awesome!” Kendall cheered, still grinning from ear to ear and giddy with excitement.

“It was better than awesome. We were on fire!” James added, fluttering his fingers beside his face to imitate the flickering of a flame.

“That’s because Kendall caught a certain someone’s eye in the crowd.” Logan teased, punctuating his words by twiddling his and James’ fingers together in celebration.

“Did we totally rock Rocktoberfest or what? Up top!” Carlos raised a hand each to Gustavo and Kelly for a high five, remaining optimistic and ever so enthusiastic. “C’mon, guys, don’t leave me hangin’!”

Kendall, Logan, and James’ faces began to sour with worry at the realization that Kelly and Gustavo were eerily unresponsive. Their once indestructible smiles came crashing down—and with them, their spirits—until they shattered into the fragile shards of glass they truly were. Their atmosphere was plagued with tension and uncertainty. The winds of victory were tainted by doubt, reducing its delicate breeze into something bitter and grim.

Gustavo quickly lost his footing and flopped backward until his body hit the floor like a tree tall in stature and great in age destined to be lumber. He made no sound nor did he make any movement. The boys gazed down at Gustavo’s statuesque body in fear of the circumstances that petrified him in a palpable sheen of panic.

“We’re doomed…” Kelly muttered fearfully, clutching her mulberry pink zipper binder like a lifebuoy.

Storm clouds gathered overhead, tainting the remaining pure white clouds with warning signs to inclement weather. They siphoned the color from the sky like drawing blood from a syringe until its canvas was erased entirely. The boys raised their heads to the sky and met the incoming rainfall drizzling above them with growing pessimism.

“Looks like rain.” Carlos shrugged, summoning the displeased looks of his friends. “What?”

- ‘ ᰔ ’ -

Beau scuttled through the hall with a Green Day album shuffling from his third generation iPod Nano to his wired earbuds and footsteps so light and airy he practically floated toward his locker. The silence of a barren corridor was oddly relaxing. Since his days on Long Island were numbered, Beau made a habit of ditching his final class of the day to gallivant around the school grounds in celebration of his upcoming move. He figured he wouldn’t need an economics lesson where he was going anyway.

With all this additional free time, one would think Beau would have every reason to be around the boy who held his heart—or rather, his conscience—in the palm of his hand. Instead, he took precautions to avoid Jordan at every turn. Beau deliberately stood clear of any classrooms Jordan frequented and any students he regularly spoke to. But he knew he couldn’t fly under the radar forever. It’d be dishonest to evade Jordan’s approach and suddenly leave for Los Angeles without a word. It’d kill Beau to leave his so-called boyfriend behind as if he meant nothing, but he wondered if it would hurt more to have Jordan leave on his own accord.

Evidence of the past suggested that Jordan would react very poorly upon hearing the news of Beau’s opportunity at achieving stardom. He spat on Beau’s heart with his stain of disapproval once before and it cost him his confidence, his dignity, his ambition. Rejecting the opportunity of a lifetime reduced Beau to a mere shell of himself, unable to navigate the world without Jordan’s guidance. He was a walking puppet. The songwriter hoped for his sake that he’d have the strength to move forward should Jordan threaten to break his heart once more and strip him of his personhood with the claws of dissatisfaction.

The final school bell—sudden and sharp in its echoey chime—buzzed Beau’s thoughts into oblivion and snapped him back to reality. He stared blankly at his open locker and the remaining possessions of his that cluttered the space. After shoveling his remaining books into his leather rucksack bag, Beau reached for his double kick popsicle skateboard, dropped it to the linoleum floor, and left behind a gust of wind in his wake as he fled the corridor on wheels.

His denim jacket fluttered behind him like wings as he burst through the double doors and scaled down the concrete staircase with an ear-piercing grind. The deck of his skateboard met the wrought iron of the banister in a brief yet powerful scratch that crackled with an electric spark. Beau leaped into the air with a nimble hop and met the ground just as quickly with a sharp clack. The wheels rumbled across the jagged terrain of asphalt as he rolled into the parking lot with a lightweight cruise.

The songwriter looked toward the sky and watched as a swarm of foggy clouds began depriving the world of sunlight with a colorless barricade. He felt the warning signs to inclement weather were oddly emblematic of the inner turmoil he felt for neglecting to face Jordan. He was certain that if he didn’t rip off that band-aid sooner rather than later, he’d never summon the courage to do so. Beau swallowed his pride and determined that the only way to quell the storm of tension was to approach it with the very thing that caused it to brew; Jordan’s guitar amplifier.

Beau dipped his back foot onto the kicktail and halted the tracks of his skateboard behind a sandy yellow Infiniti M35. He heard the muffled blaring of a vaguely familiar pop rock song that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. The melody was still hazy in his mind, but he remembered how cheesy he thought the lyrics were and how flashy and nasally a particular singer’s voice sounded.

Andy sat in the driver’s seat bopping her head and drumming her hands against the steering wheel with the stereo at full volume. “You wanna be famous! You wanna be the one who’s living the life!” Andy sang along with her voluminous curls bouncing back and forth atop her shoulders. “You wanna be famous! You wanna be the one who’s taking a free ride.”

Beau rolled his eyes and gave the trunk of the car a couple firm taps to get Andy’s attention. Her shoulders spiked to her ears at the abrupt sound striking her senses from behind, and her head immediately snapped behind her to see Beau waving from the pavement. She hurriedly twisted the volume dial to the left and stumbled out of the vehicle one chunky combat boot at a time.

“H-Hey, Beau!” Andy uttered while finding her footing.

“Still listening to that cheesy pop band, huh?” Beau withdrew his earbuds and tucked them away in his pocket. “Big Time… Crush, is it?”

“Rush.” Andy corrected, cocking her brow and bracing her hand onto her hip. “What about them?”

“Oh, nothing, they’re just a little… mainstream is all.” Beau remarked, his head tilting toward his shoulder as he crossed his arms.

“And Green Day isn’t?” Andy scoffed as she combed her curls back with her vacant hand.

“That’s different, they’re not a pop band.” Beau retorted pompously.

“You are so pretentious.” Andy grumbled.

“You love me, and you’re going to miss this when I’m gone.” Beau smirked.

Andy responded by sticking her tongue out at Beau and scrunching her face up until her skin crumpled like paper. As much as she hated to admit it, Beau was right. Andy thrived on their dynamic and feared the uncertainty that loomed from the thought of Beau’s absence. But for his sake, she never spoke a word of that to him.

“Speaking of which, I looked up that Hawk guy you signed with and he’s signed some of the strangest sounding artists I’ve ever heard.” Andy leaned against the car door.

“Like who?” Beau lifted his skateboard from the pavement and held it loosely at his side.

“Lil’ Zwayne, Laydee ZeeZee, and Dr. Z to name a few.” Andy pointed a finger for each artist she listed.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of any of them.” Beau grimaced.

“I hadn’t either.” Andy scratched her temple. “Wait, does that mean your stage name is going to have the letter Z too?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” Beau answered awkwardly.

“You should have because if I have to start calling you Zeau or something stupid like that, I may never speak to you again.” Andy jested.

“Hey, Z’s are cool! I think…” Beau frowned nervously. “Anyway, do you still have Jordan’s amp in your trunk?”

“Ugh, yes, I’ve been waiting all weekend for you to come get it.” Andy groaned in response. “I had half a mind to return it to him myself.”

“Please don’t do that, you’ll just fight with him.” Beau pleaded while barricading himself with his hands.

“Darn right I’d fight with him.” Andy scowled. “I don’t like him, I don’t respect him, and I don’t want his bad juju messing with my dad’s car.”

“He’s a human being, Andy, not an evil spirit.” Beau whined defeatedly. “There’s no hateful aura lingering in your dad’s car from Jordan’s amp.”

“You don’t know that.” Andy shook her head.

“Okay, well if he comes over here looking for me, please do not say anything to him.” Beau begged urgently. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

“What do you mean? You’re just returning his amp, you’re not breaking up with him.” Andy curled her face in indifference.

Beau’s eyes suddenly weighed down his face like anchors. Try as he must, there was no keeping them above the ground. The sky darkened above him, alerting passersby of an incoming storm. Winds swirled around him at growing speeds, ruffling his hair and thrashing against his clothes. Andy glanced down at Beau’s fingers and watched as they curled into shaky, hesitant, heartbroken fists.

“Oh, my god, are you breaking up with him?” Andy gasped, perching her hands just below her collarbone.

“N-No, I’m… I don’t know. I don’t want to.” Beau stammered in confession, his breath thick like fog and heavy like metal. “But I haven’t told him about me moving to Los Angeles yet, so I thought I’d at least start by returning the thing that helped me snag that opportunity in the first place.”

“I’m sorry, Jordan’s guitar amp helped you?” Andy raised her brows, and with it, her voice. “Last time I checked, I was the one who drove you to the Paramount. I was the one who convinced you to take the stage when you got cold feet. I was the one who calmed your mom down who was worried sick about you because you didn’t tell her where you were.”

“I know, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.” Beau squeaked apologetically. “I just don’t know how he’s going to take the news, and I don’t want to leave without telling him. Or, at least, I shouldn’t.”

A wild assortment of blues from one end of the spectrum to the other painted the canvas of Beau’s face and told a tragic story of heartbreak and neglect. Sorrow was a god awful color on him. It was as though he’d been showered by a raincloud of his own making, one he wore like an accessory and carried like luggage. It made Andy pale with worry to watch as misery swallowed her best friend whole.

“Can you please just pop the trunk so I can give Jordan his amp back? The sooner I do this, the better.” Beau bargained with a heavy heart.

“Yeah, sure.” Andy huffed, shuffling toward the trunk and snaking her finger above the license plate to press the trunk release button.

While Beau retrieved Jordan’s guitar amplifier with both hands and lifted it from the trunk mat, he felt a familiarly malevolent gaze lingering over him. The sensation siphoned his strength from him and caused his fingers to slip. Panic froze his gaze in place and fogged his peripherals until his vision could only tunnel forward. While Beau’s mind raced ahead of him and abandoned his body in its statuesque form, the amplifier tilted forward and started falling out of his grasp.

Andy was troubled by Beau’s lack of spatial awareness and an eerily blank stare that told her he wasn’t all there. His stillness and silence were equally bone-chilling. “Woah, careful!” Andy cried as she lunged forward to catch the guitar amplifier before it slipped through Beau’s weightless and motionless hands entirely. While Beau’s mind slowly came creeping back into his body and granting him movement, Andy helped lower the amplifier to the pavement. “Are you okay?” the novelist uttered while reaching for the trunk door with both hands and slowly levering it back into place with a mild click.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” Beau swept away the remnants of fog clouding his mind with a couple firm shakes and a few rapid blinks. His skin still crawled with the thought that he was being watched. “It’s so weird, but sometimes I feel like Jordan is standing right behind me.” he remarked worriedly as he turned away from the trunk and saw Jordan standing proudly before him. The songwriter’s heart suddenly spiked, racing at a mile a minute and causing him to claw at his shirt with his hand as if to bury his most vital organ deeper within his chest. “J-Jordan!”

“Hey there, rockstar.” Jordan grinned, tracing the silver chains of his stockpiled necklaces.

“Jordan.” Andy scowled.

“Andrea.” Jordan cocked his brow.

“It’s just Andy, I think you know that.” Andy hissed.

“Whatever, I’m not here for you. I’m here for him.” Jordan threw an arm around Beau’s shoulder and rubbed Andy’s nose in how closely he held him. “Where have you been, man? I was starting to think you only existed in the texts you sent.”

“Haha, sorry about that. I guess I’ve just been a little busy lately.” Beau chuckled nervously.

“But you still have time for me, right?” Jordan batted his eyes.

“O-Of course!” Beau forced a boxy and painfully disingenuous smile for Jordan’s benefit. “Speaking of, I wanted to give you back your amp… and, y’know, thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” Jordan replied with an unsettlingly devilish undertone that routinely kept Beau complacent. “Why’d you need to borrow it anyway?”

“Well,” Beau pressed his open palm against Jordan’s chest to maintain the sliver of space between them. “I kind of had this… audition.”

Jordan’s suave expression dipped below the horizon of his face and curled into something sinister. He masked his fear of suddenly losing control behind hostility. The bassist wore his aggression like a suit of armor and prepared to wield his anger like the razor-sharp blade it was.

“An audition?” Jordan repeated lowly, his arm slowly drifting down Beau’s back and slinking back to its own territory in defeat. “What kind of audition?”

“An audition for a music producer.” Beau answered weakly, already bracing himself for an onslaught of verbal fisticuffs. “He wants to take me to LA to record some demos.”

“But you told him no, right?” Jordan blinked, his composure slipping through the cracks of his laidback facade.

Beau tucked his head in between his shoulders and clenched his fists in an attempt, a silent prayer, a desperate plea to disappear. He struggled to meet Jordan’s gaze, but did so reluctantly and shakily enough to relay the message his silence couldn’t send. Jordan’s wispy, feathered bangs whisked against his forehead in the harsh winds of reality. Appealing to Beau by feigning flattery and weaponizing the attributes he found even remotely attractive was no longer a priority. His only goal now was to keep Beau on the shortest possible leash by any means necessary.

“I can’t believe you.” Jordan scoffed.

“I’ll only be gone for a few months, I’ll be back before you know it!” Beau bargained desperately.

“Beau, do you even realize the risk you’re taking? How could you be so selfish?” Jordan threw his hands up in protest.

“Selfish…?” Beau croaked on the cusp of heartache.

“I thought you’d have changed since your last ‘audition’. I thought we were finally going back to the way things were. We have a good thing going here.” Jordan strode closer to Beau inch by inch, his burgeoning fury mirroring the storm brewing overhead. “But no, you want to throw that all away for some stranger on the other side of the country again!”

“That’s not what I—” Beau trailed off.

“Do you even love me? Do you even care about me?” Jordan queried, dramatically feigning sincerity.

“O-Of course I do.” Beau replied sporadically until Jordan cornered him against the trunk of the car.

“Then why risk this, Beau? Why risk us?” Jordan clawed onto Beau’s shoulders and dug through the fabric of his denim jacket until he felt he could burn straight through it. “I need you just as much as you need me.”

Beau waged war on himself to speak further and defend himself, but it was a losing game from the start. He surrendered to fear, he surrendered to power and his lack thereof. Despite imprisoning himself in silence, Beau still fought to pry open the steel bars of sound and weakly utter the words, “You’re scaring me.”

Andy took those words as a sign for help, a request for backup, a signal to come to his rescue. It pained her to stand idly by while Jordan reduced her best friend’s personhood to rubble. As fed up and disgusted as she was with Jordan’s behavior, she couldn’t risk the fighting words threatening to escape her. For Beau’s sake and her own, Andy did her best to rein herself in.

“That’s enough.” Andy declared sternly as she marched to Beau’s side and pressed her hand onto his chest to separate him from Jordan. “Why don’t you just take your amp and go?”

“Stay out of this, Andrea, I wasn’t talking to you.” Jordan hissed.

“But you’re talking in front of my car.” Andy refuted. “Do you think you get a pass to say or do whatever you want just because you’re talking to Beau?”

“I said stay out of it.” Jordan scowled in retort.

“And I said take your amp and go. I’m not going to tell you again.” Andy warned.

“Or what? I’m not scared of you.” Jordan cast an apathetic spotlight on Andy with soulless, relentless, unfeeling eyes.

“Trust me, Jordan, you’re about to be.” Andy sharpened her gaze like a knife, refusing to back down or show any signs of apprehension.

Jordan grimaced at Andy for how firmly she stood her ground. She cut the strings of which he used to puppeteer Beau and left him to rot without any sense of control or authority. Without evidence of fear, Jordan was stripped entirely of his power. Intimidation and manipulation were mere words rather than tactics. Jordan was forced to make a choice; either scavenge for scraps of control like a power-hungry mongrel or leave while he still had the chance to maintain a smidgen of virtue. Unfortunately for him, his inexhaustible greed urged him to remain fierce. Anything less would be seen as weakness.

“You’re pathetic. You both are.” Jordan spat while scooping his guitar amplifier up from the pavement by the handle. “I hope you’re happy with the choice you’ve made, Beau, because when this precious dream of yours inevitably fails—and it will—don’t come crawling back to me.”

As Jordan stormed out of the parking lot, the crackling of thunder and whistling howl of Northeastern winds beckoned Beau’s eyes to the sky. He forced himself to continue looking skyward in a futile attempt to erase Jordan’s presence from his memory. The songwriter watched as Jordan’s departure was washed away by the beginnings of rainfall. His silhouette was dark, hazy, and nearly out of sight by the time Beau’s heart stopped racing.

“Are you okay?” Andy’s gaze softened as she approached Beau, reaching out with her words in lieu of her sudden inability to do so physically. Beau was unresponsive. He struck a side-eyed glance with his back still glued to the trunk of the car as he quickly and frantically shook his head in reply.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Andy sighed. Beau continued not to speak. He substituted his voice with another communicative gesture, nodding his head sporadically and urgently in a silent plea. “Okay, grab your things.” Andy obliged as she scuttled back toward the driver’s seat and pried open the door.

- ‘ ᰔ ’ -

Maya’s fingers waltzed across the keyboard to Beau’s Lenovo laptop, obfuscating the code she’d soon use to power a device of her making. She leaned over her desk with laser-sharp focus and an insatiable need to obsess over every detail. Her forefinger hovered over the trackpad like the storm clouds that loomed over the neighborhood and threatened to break her concentration.

But a distinct silence, a lack of rummaging and rustling beckoned Lorraine to Maya’s bedroom door. She shuffled through the hallway with a round, plastic, ivory white laundry basket filled to the brim with newly dried clothing just waiting to be ironed, folded, and packed. Her not-so curious eyes peered in from the side, leading the rest of her body to face forward.

“Maya, why aren’t you packing?” Lorraine asked impatiently.

“I am packing.” Maya answered monotonously, refusing to move an inch from the laptop screen.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re using your brother’s laptop, which I’ve told you several times not to do.” Lorraine declared as she set her laundry basket down on the hardwood floor.

“Trust me, Mom, this is the most efficient way for me to pack.” Maya proclaimed with busy, rapid typing motions.

“Care to demonstrate? I’d love to see how doing something I deliberately told you not to do leads to that suitcase being packed.” Lorraine pointed a stern, sharp finger at Maya’s suitcase as it lay empty and forgotten on the floor.

“With pleasure.” Maya smirked, plunging her forefinger into the enter key and withdrawing a flash drive from the USB port. She rose from her seat, strode across the room, and unveiled an automated machine with chutes and sensors aimed at her suitcase in a straight line.

Lorraine’s jaw bungeed below her face as she bore witness to an industrial level factory machine standing right in her daughter’s bedroom. Its very presence was unfathomable, and Maya’s ability to construct such a device and code the program used to power it was far beyond her comprehension.

“What is that thing?!” Lorraine shrieked with bulging eyes. “It takes up two thirds of your room!”

“A sorting machine.” Maya stated matter-of-factly. “I needed Beau’s laptop to code the program to power it.”

“Why didn’t you just use your father’s laptop?” Lorraine managed to squeak out.

“He took it to work. Besides, Toshiba laptops are so slow.” Maya rolled her eyes. “Want to see how this works?”

“Do I have a choice?” Lorraine winced.

“No.” Maya blinked, smiling with her eyes but never with her lips. “When I drop my clothes down the hopper, they’ll pass through a sensor that’ll identify what kind of article of clothing they are and fold them accordingly on the conveyor belt.”

“That thing is going to fold your clothes?” Lorraine furrowed her brows, bewildered by the very concept of Maya’s machine.

“Yep! Then they’ll slide down to one of the four chutes depending on what they’ve been identified as and drop into the most fitting space to conserve as much room as possible.” Maya explained further. “Think of it like a game of Tetris, only I’m substituting colorful blocks for flannels and bootcut jeans.”

“You’re joking…” Lorraine muttered, bewildered by Maya’s explanation.

“Am I?” Maya plugged her flash drive into the USB port, plunged her thumb into the power button, and watched as her machine whirred to life. She rummaged through her drawers for miscellaneous clothing—a pink drawstring hoodie, a white crewneck tee shirt with “happy” spelled out in rainbow letters that she only wore ironically, black skinny jeans, and a pair of checkered Vans slip-ons—and shoveled each article of clothing individually into the hopper.

The sensor buzzed with a dual-tone beep as each piece funneled through it and onto the conveyor belt, similar to an airport luggage scanner. Once each article of clothing arrived at their individually assigned chutes, the conveyor belt ceased all motion and relinquished control to the servo motors. A pair of miniature, claw-like, mechanical appendages emerged from the sides of each chute and folded the clothes with such precision and meticulousness that it almost made Lorraine jealous. Once folded, they each slid past one final sensor and down their chutes into the suitcase with plenty of room to spare.

Lorraine inched closer from the door and gazed down at Maya’s suitcase, quirking a curious brow at how differently they looked from just a moment ago. She couldn’t wrap her head around why they were now rolled like paper scrolls rather than traditionally folded. “Weren’t these folded just a second ago?” The befuddled mother scratched her head.

“Yes, but they were rolled up in their own individual sensors just before hitting the chute system,” Maya clarified, silently yet tremendously proud of her work. “And that’s how you conserve space in your suitcase.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” Lorraine shook her head. “Any chance your brother can use this? I’m pretty sure he just scooped up all his clothes at once, dropped them in his suitcase, and called it a day… if he even started packing.”

“We’ll see.” Maya scuttled over to her desk, powered Beau’s laptop down, and left the room to return it to its rightful place.

The front door gently creaked open, allowing Beau and Andy to emerge from the outside and take shelter from the storm. They wiped their shoes against the doormat one by one and banished the rain to an outdoor existence by clicking the door shut behind them. Their presence beckoned Lorraine to the living room. She watched as Beau lowered his skateboard to the floor and leaned the kicktail against the wall.

“Hi, Beau, Andy.” Lorraine waved as she strode closer.

“Hey, Mom.” Beau muttered while slinking his leather rucksack bag off his shoulders.

“Hi, Mrs. Santiago.” Andy bowed her head forward and folded her hands atop her abdomen.

A sinking feeling immediately spiked Lorraine’s senses upon greeting Beau. His skin was worryingly pale, his eyes were hauntingly dark, and his voice was painfully low. The devastated songwriter’s demeanor mirrored that of a prior era, one where he walked aimlessly and practically emotionlessly through life. To think that had any chance of happening again frightened Lorraine more than she could ever express.

“What happened?” Lorraine clutched the collar of her blouse.

“What?” Beau’s face curled in confusion.

“You’re upset. What happened?” Lorraine reiterated as she rushed toward Beau and cupped his sunken face in her frenzied hands.

“Nothing happened, Mom, I’m fine!” Beau whined, fruitlessly attempting to flail his head out of his mother’s grasp.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen at school?” Lorraine inquired as she hastily examined every inch of Beau’s face for evidence of distress.

“Mom, stop! You know I don’t like to be fussed over.” Beau grumbled in frustration as he pried himself out of Lorraine’s arms.

“I can’t help it.” Lorraine huffed. “Something is wrong, I just know it!”

“Nothing is wrong, okay?” Beau lifted his hands in resistance. “I just… had a rough day at school, y’know, having to say goodbye to people.”

“Oh.” Lorraine’s eyes wandered from Beau to Andy, taking in the shared dismay they wore on their faces like white flags of surrender. In all the excitement and hectic preparation, she hadn’t thought about how difficult it’d be for Beau to be miles away from the one person who always stuck by him through thick and thin. “Are you… going to miss Andy?”

Beau and Andy shared an awkward glance. There was much to say about the heartbreaking events leading to the songwriter’s broken spirit that went unspoken. They couldn’t speak Jordan’s name in his house nor the myriad of heinous things he’s said and done. Not now, not ever.

“Uh… yeah, obviously.” Beau stammered, pretending that this saving grace of a conversation topic was his idea.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too, pal.” Andy scoffed, sarcastically nudging Beau in the arm.

“Well, if you’re not done packing, I highly suggest you use Maya’s…” Lorraine trailed off, completely forgetting the name of Maya’s latest gadget. “Maya, what was the name of your device again?”

“A sorting machine!” Maya called out from her bedroom.

“That.” Lorraine replied, pointing behind herself. “It folds your clothes and puts them away for you, it’s the craziest thing.”

“Sure, I’ll check it out.” Beau obliged.

“Good.” Lorraine grinned contentedly. “Andy, are you staying?”

“Only if Beau wants me to.” Andy tilted her head toward her shoulder.

“That’s okay, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Beau plunged his fists into his pockets.

“Right,” Andy awkwardly tucked her lips inward. “Have a good night, guys.”

“You too, honey.” Lorraine nodded, turning on her heel to retrieve her forgotten laundry basket from the hallway and take it upstairs to her bedroom.

“Bye, Beau.” Andy murmured as she headed for the door.

Beau’s inability to respond tortured him. This isn’t how he wanted to leave things, not when a week’s worth of words flooded his throat and yearned to burst through the dam of his lips. He sucked in a sharp breath and dug deep within himself toward the proverbial bedrock for the courage to keep Andy in his presence for just a moment longer.

“I meant what I said, by the way.” Beau said, reaching out verbally rather than physically.

“What?” Andy turned back to face Beau.

“About missing you,” Beau reiterated. “I meant that.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a ploy to get your mom off your back?” Andy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“No! Well… a little bit,” Beau squeaked in confession. “But I still meant it! You’re my best friend, Andy. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah?” Andy smiled faintly, the ends of her lips just barely curling upward.

“You’re the only person who really gets me, who sticks up for me when I’m in trouble, who lifts me up when I’m at my worst, who—” Beau trailed off.

“Builds you back up when you come crumbling down.” Andy interjected, finishing Beau’s sentence.

“Okay, I’m not proud of that,” Beau huffed. “But, yeah. You know everything about me. You’re always around me.”

“I guess we do spend a lot of time together.” Andy remarked in brief reminiscence.

“It’ll be really weird not having you around. The whole balance of my life will be totally thrown off.” Beau professed in earnest.

“Then I guess you’d better start learning how to clean up your messes without me.” Andy drifted from the doorframe and strode back into the house to playfully tap Beau’s shoulder.

“Very funny.” Beau muttered sarcastically.

“Thanks, I try.” Andy smirked.

“I’m serious, Andy, I’m really going to miss you.” Beau declared softly. “In a lot of ways, you’re like a sister to me.”

“Excuse me?” Maya cocked her brow and stared daggers at Beau.

Andy and Beau shrieked as their shoulders rose to the bottoms of their ears and their arms curled against their chests in surprise. Maya often moved like a mouse—swiftly, silently, and sometimes surprisingly. The fact that she could appear at any given moment was grounds for great unease, and has caused mild paranoia throughout the household.

“How long have you been standing there?!” Beau creaked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Maya braced her hands onto her hips.

“Yes, it does! I’m trying to have a private conversation right now!” Beau squawked in protest.

“By telling Andy she’s your sister?” Maya scowled.

“Oh, my god… you’re like an additional sister to me.” Beau reiterated to Andy in frustration. “There! Happy?” he grumbled while looking back at Maya.

“Very.” Maya snickered as she retired to her bedroom in satisfaction.

While Beau dragged his palm down the scale of his face and groaned what remained of his voice into oblivion, Andy struggled to suppress the laughter that spilled through the cracks of her lips. She always found humor in the ways Maya loved to get under Beau’s skin. She didn’t know it yet, but Andy would come to miss the way Beau protested Maya’s endeavors like an embarrassed, red-faced, short-tempered child.

“Any chance you’d want to trade places with her?” Beau asked impatiently as he pointed behind himself.

“I heard that!” Maya called out from her bedroom.

“No, you didn’t!” Beau barked in retort.

“I’m good, she’s made it very clear that there’s no replacing her.” Andy chuckled. “Are you going to be okay, though? I know today was… a lot.”

“I don’t think I have a choice, I’m going to friggin’ Hollywood.” Beau braced his hand onto his head and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be upset.” Andy shrugged with open palms.

“I’m not upset, I’m just… a little worried.” Beau nervously scratched his neck. “I didn’t realize I’d be leaving so much behind.”

“I’m sure you’ll make plenty of new friends in LA.” Andy affirmed.

“But none like you.” Beau tossed his head to the side. “And certainly none like Jor—”

“Don’t. He is not your friend.” Andy solemnly clenched her fists.

“Okay.” Beau surrendered as tension slithered back into the atmosphere. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not very good at goodbyes.”

Andy mulled over the sacrifices Beau would have to make in order to see his dream through. There was no doubt in her mind that this was everything Beau wanted, but standing here in the midst of imbalance, she realized that the stakes of his situation were not as black and white as she once thought. Not only would the songwriter have to part ways with loved ones—be it a friend or even a family member—but he’d also be leaving behind his comforts, his home, his way of life. Not many people could summon the courage to make sacrifices such as these; least of all her.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not leaving ‘til Saturday.” Andy remarked as she swung her arms around Beau and lulled him into a gentle, soothing, reassuring squeeze of an embrace. “You still have a few days to try again.”

Anchored by Andy’s touch and the comfort her words brought him, Beau returned the gesture and clung to his best friend like she’d cease to exist if he ever let go. But even in a moment of solace and contentment, he felt he couldn’t quite trust his senses. The realization that this may be one of the last times he’ll ever hold or see Andy until the following year made her embrace feel painfully bittersweet. The thought of letting go in any sense—either for a moment or for a lifetime—made Beau tremble.

“Kick butt out there, okay?” Andy grinned sympathetically as she pulled back.