Rutherford

It’s 30 minutes until 1st period. Aaron and I are sharing a black and mild in the back of his van in the school parking lot. I’m on lookout duty as usual.

“No cops. No teachers. We are in the clear.” I say. “Kinda surprising considering you drive the only passenger van at Whiteside High. A yellow van especially.”

“What are they gonna do, suspend us?” Aaron says

`“Yeah. That’s exactly what they’ll fucking do” I chuckle. “Tobacco on school grounds will already get us in trouble. The fact that you aren’t 18 yet is even more reason for us to get in trouble.”

“2 more days Ford, 2 more days until my birthday. 2 more days til I can buy cigarettes, 2 more days til I can vote, 2 more days til I can, uh....”

“Sign up to die for your country, legally be sentenced to prison as an adult, oh Aaron. The options are fucking endless.”

Aaron smiles and laughs. “Fuck you” he says to me jokingly.

“It’s true though! Now hurry up with that. I don’t wanna be late to class this morning. We still have to walk to the entrance and I don’t feel like running.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m coming.”

I take one last hit off the black and mild and Aaron and I very conspicuously get out of the van and walk across the entire parking lot back to the school. The April air feels so good, especially considering the long winter we had. Walking in the main entrance, you’re greeted by the very best that Whiteside High School has to offer. The preps, the jocks, the geeks, the freaks, the this, the that, it’s like any other school on the planet now that I think about it. You’d think I would fit in with the preps perfectly, but even THEY view me as the rich asshole.

“Oh, shit dude” Aaron says “Look at what’s going on tonight.”

Aaron takes a flyer advertising a show going on at the skatepark

“Looks fun. Too bad it’s on a school night. I’ve also never been to a show in my life before, so I may have to sit this one out.”

“Oh dude. Mizzy is the coolest band around right now. I went to one of their shows last month, and I swear to God dude. I got so drunk, I woke up the next morning in Ashley Arnett’s yard.”

“Ashley Arnett? Bullshit.”

“Okay. I lied about that last part, but dude. You have to come. These guys are going to change your life.”

“I’ll think about it, man. Worst case scenario, my parents say no and I spend yet another night alone.”

“Ford, for fuck’s sake. You’re 18 years old. Fuck what your parents say. I’ll see you after school. Lemme know what you decide.”

Me? Going to a fucking punk rock concert at a skatepark? I can’t even skate. I don’t know the first thing about punk music. There’s also no way in hell my parents are going to allow me to go. What is Aaron about to drag me into? No time to think about it now I guess.

I go about my day trying not to pay attention to anyone staring at me or giving me a hard time. I haven’t had any confrontations with people ever since Rodney Hartsfeld put a glitter bomb in my locker at the beginning of the year. I guess Whiteside High doesn’t tolerate any explosives even if they aren’t deadly. The principal called the SWAT team and long story short, Rodney was expelled. My parents even threatened to sue him, and that took a lot of convincing for them not to follow through with it. That bastard’s family wouldn’t have been able to ever eat again.

It is now 3 o’clock, I have made my decision. Against all fucking odds, I’m going to the show tonight. I just remembered it’s a late start tomorrow, so I’m gonna tell my parents that I’m going to Aaron’s house to study tonight. I’ve never lied about anything school-related to my parents, so this is going to be painful for me. I meet Aaron in the school parking lot and tell him the master plan.

“You’re a wild son of a bitch, Ford.” he said

“It’s gonna work”

“What are you gonna do if your mom calls my mom?”

“I doubt my socially anxious mother is gonna call anybody, Aaron. The only people she likes calling are American Express to make sure her credit cards aren’t frozen”

“I hope you’re right. See you tonight. Huxley Heights skatepark. 7 PM. It will more than likely go into punk time, so don’t freak out if you’re running late. You’re welcome to crash at my place tonight. I sleep in the basement so you can just sneak in through the cellar door”

The 15-minute drive back to my house was nothing short of heart-racing. I’m about to lie to my mom about going to a punk show. Christ, I hope she believes me. I walk in the door and she’s sitting in the recliner watching soap operas.

“Hey mom?” I say.

“Oh hey, Rutherford. How was school today?”

“it was fine. Hey listen, c-can… is it cool if I go to Aaron’s to study tonight?”

“Aaron? Aaron who?”

“Aaron Reynolds. We have a late start tomorrow, and he lives all the way out on the outskirts, so I’ll be too tired to come back home. Is it ok if I stay the night there?”

“Rutherford Williams, you’re 18 years old. You don’t have to ask me for permission to stay at your friend’s house, even if it is a school night. All I care about is you graduating. Just stay safe is all I ask.”

I breathe a fucking sigh of relief.

“Thanks, mom”

“All I ask is that you call me tomorrow morning, just so I know you’re okay”

“I can do that”

“Your father had to take a last-minute business trip to St. Louis. He should be back home tomorrow night.”

For the next few hours, I kill time by playing bass in my room. I’ve only been playing for 3 months, and each time I pick up this instrument, I lose interest in it. I only play it because it was what my dad got me for my birthday and he always finds a way to guilt-trip me when he sees it collecting dust.

“Rutherford” my mother shouts from the bottom of the stairs “Your friend is on the phone”

I walk down the hall and pick up the phone. It’s Aaron.

“Yo,” he says, “I got the hook-up on some cheap booze”

“How cheap we talkin’?”

“Who cares? Beer is beer. I was also able to score some Jack. You’re still coming tonight, right?”

“Oh yeah. Yeah. I’m just about to get ready.”

“Sweet. I’ll see you tonight dawg.”

“What have I fucking done.” I say quietly to myself as I hang up the phone.

To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’m gonna look so out of place at this show. I can’t wait to be surrounded by a bunch of kids dressed in spikes and leather. I can’t wait to be called a conformist to society because my parents make $400,000” a year. I decide to bite the bullet and get ready. I shower, and pick out an outfit that won’t make me look too much like a tool and help me blend in a little bit. Just a pair of khaki shorts and a generic black shirt with a skull on it.

Huxley Heights skatepark is only a 10-minute drive from my house. I stop at a convenience store for a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes. At this point, I’m really hoping Aaron didn’t flake out, because I’m now at the point of no return. I think I’m overthinking at this point, but I think that’s pretty reasonable given the circumstances of what I’m doing. I light a cigarette, take a deep breath and try to enjoy the drive. Franklin Ridge is such a cool place. It’s one of those places that you love or hate. It’s just an American midwest town settled along the Mississippi River. Beautiful in the summer, brutal as hell in the winter.

I arrive at the skatepark. Aaron must’ve seen me coming down the road because he was waiting for me by the entrance. I turn the engine off and walk in his direction.

“Hey,” he says “You didn’t get lost”

“You act like this place is hard to find”

“Well, it can be for some people”

“Who have I missed so far?”

“You actually showed up just in time. The Boneheads are starting now.”

Aaron and I make our way to the stage. There are about 40 people here, including the skaters pulling tricks on the halfpipes. No one I see here really screams punk to me. No mohawks. No spikes. No leather. Mostly everyone here looks like they stepped right out of my English class. I see some people whose faces I recognize from school, but they don’t recognize me.

“Where are the punks at?” I say to Aaron.

“What do you mean?”

“Where are the dudes in the spiked leather jackets? Where are the mohawks? All I see are… well, skaters.”

“You may see some tonight, but for the most part this is it. Skate punk is, well let’s just say it’s a lot more bright than straight punk music. You see dawg, regular punk is ‘We hate society and we’re gonna be angry about it’ while skate punk is ’We hate society, but we’re gonna have fun singing about it.”

“Interesting”

“Oh shit, Ford. They’re starting. I’m gonna go grab us a couple of beers.”

“You’re gonna leave me alone here. Okay. Be back soon I guess”

The Boneheads start playing. I can already feel the energy of the crowd picking up. A mosh pit starts literally 5 feet away from me and I’m already playing defensive position against people running into me. I’m not even mad. This is actually very fun. I decide to enter the mosh pit myself, and my anxiety soon turns to excitement and joy as I push and shove into people. Aaron soon joins in too, handing me off a beer with the label scratched off. We leave the pit as the song ends and then we shotgun our beers, catching the attention of the frontman of The Boneheads

“THIS NEXT SONG GOES OUT TO THESE 2 CRAZY MOTHERFUCKERS SHOTGUNNING BEERS. IT’S CALLED ‘BREWSKYS FOR BYRON.’ THANK YOU FOR COMING OUT TONIGHT”

Sometime later, The Boneheads have finished playing and Aaron and I are getting drunk in his van. I’m 4 beers in at this point, and now we’re both passing the bottle of whiskey.

“School is gonna suck tomorrow.” I say to Aaron.

“Oh, hangovers at school aren’t THAT bad. You’re so stressed about everything else going on that you don’t even pay attention to the headache!”

“Hang on a second. I brought a bottle of water. Lemme go to get that real quick”

I get out of Aaron’s van and start walking towards my car. It’s dark outside, the only lights being the lamp posts that illuminate the parking lot. I stumble a little bit while walking, but luckily I’m okay at looking sober. No cops ever come to Huxley Heights anyway. Too nice of a neighborhood.

“Hey you!” a voice from behind me says. I turn around and it’s the singer from The Boneheads walking to me.

“Oh hey man,” I say “You guys killed it”

“Thanks dude! Hey, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh.” I shake hands with him “I’m Ford.”

“Oh, Ford? Like the car?”

“Kinda. My real name is Rutherford, but I haven’t gone by that name in a long time. The only people who call me that are my mom and dad.”

“I get it. I get it. My real name is Shawn, but I go by Ellis because it’s my middle name and I like it a lot more. How old are ya dude?”

“I’m 18.”

“Ah. Still in high school?”

“Yep, but I’m just a month and a half away from freedom”

“Shit yeah man. Be careful though. Once you walk down that aisle, life is gonna get tougher, but don’t take it from a high school dropout.”

“Oh, I know it will be, but I’m prepared for it.”

“Mmhmm that’s what they all say, but listen man. We’re playing a show this Wednesday at an abandoned warehouse over on Marlow street, but it’s a guerilla function, so be careful who ya tell. Bring a friend or whatever, but make sure they aren’t a cop. Can’t afford another show shutdown for the 2nd time this year. Nice talking to ya man, see you later”

That was the first time I’ve ever spoken to someone without them looking at me weirdly. Ellis gave me a flyer that was written on a paper towel. Whether this is an intentionally weird way of advertising a show, or if he just ran out of regular paper is beyond me, but all I know is this show is on Aaron’s birthday.

“Ford!” shouted Aaron from the other side of the parking lot. “Mizzy about to play! Get your ass over here! Woo!”

I stumble over to him, the alcohol hitting me much harder this time. I grab the bottle of whiskey, not so discreetly hidden in a paper bag, and take a big swig of it.

“Jesus, Ford. You’re fucked up.” says Aaron

“You bet your fucking ass I am. Now let’s go motherfucking PARTY”

The last thing I remember doing is going absolute apeshit in the pit with Aaron. Mizzy was just as insane as Aaron told me they would be. I think he even under-exaggerated it. The melodic riffs, the crashing drums, the angst in the singer’s voice. I’ve never heard anything like it. I grew up listening to pop music, especially when I was way younger. I was a young child in the ’80s where music was considered to be in its prime. This shit is a breath of fresh air, and holy fuck does it feel fantastic.