Album 2, Track 1: "Not Back on It, Joe, Still on It"

[Naomi Brooks]

Naomi didn't move with any sense of grace to avoid the mass of wide-eyed, drooling lipped freshman and possibly even seniors who still didn't know where they were going. She moved with the precision of a bulldozer. If someone got in the way, a shoulder here or a gentle 'nudge' there quickly moved them so she could get where she was heading. Which was..

..not class, a realization that came with no small sense of frustration and a small bit of popping her jaw. It was fine. It would be fine. She could already recount dealing with attendance verification next class.

Professor Gilbert: I see you've deigned to grace us with your presence Ms. Brooks.

Naomi wasn't quite sure he was the kind of old-fart professor that would use the word 'deigned', but probably. She paused as she got lost in the thought of how this imaginary conversation would go, half of her brain thinking maybe she should turn on the campus station just to get their numbers up instead of continuing her playlist..

..after Lee Morgan. You don't cut off Howdy half-way through. Five more minutes.

All of which Naomi can handle well enough until a butch haircut and jean-jacket clad asshole turns and makes a beeline for her. They both know who the other is, but neither place much of a premium on politeness. "You're one of those amateurs Sophie joined up with, right? Loose Bolt? Poison Pie? Some shit like that." Emily Dane shouts at Naomi to make sure she's heard over Naomi's headphones. She exaggerates her lip movements. "Where the fuck is Sophie? She's not reading my texts."

Honestly, even seeing it coming, Naomi still blinked with a bit of surprised confusion. What was funniest about all of it was how loudly Dane had to be shouting to be heard over Morgan's frenetic trumpeting. Naomi pulled down the large cups of her headphones just as Emily started rattling off the random list of names the band had been using from gig to gig.

"Have we used Loose Bolts?" she asked. It was a sincere question, though it came off sounding a bit more snide and sarcastic in the moment. Half the time Naomi couldn't keep up with new names being rattled off by Vic or Jazz. When Vic had triumphantly announced they should just be named "THE BAND," Naomi didn't have the heart to mention how that name was already taken by a not-so-unpopular folk rock band from the 1960s. Thankfully Nico had been there to do it for her. "Kind of you to remember all of them though. You must go to ever show." That was less sincere, as the cat-like grin on Naomi's face curled up to mock Emily to her face.

Naomi took a moment to pause the track, taking her sweet time of it too just to let the silence linger. She checked her messages also, holding her phone at just the right angle that Dane could see if she wanted. Near the top was Sophie, along with the rest of the band. "Hm. Looks here like I'm not her fucking secretary there Emmy. But if you like, my going rate for being a courier pigeon is ten bucks or a pack of smokes."

Her shoulders rolled slowly, straightening her back until she was standing to her full height. She was well on the taller side of most girls, just tall enough to get the endless "you should play basketball" comments and having to plan her route through the campus throng to avoid said basketball team's recruitment efforts. Slouching was half an attempt to not stand out, half a habit from drumming. Standing up straight was only for looking imposing.

And she was happy to look imposing if it meant protecting a friend. "Happy to let her know whatever you'd like next time I see her. Since I will see her soon. Unlike you from the sounds of things."

Shit..that sounded like they were seeing each other. Not just bandmates, but more Naomi realized. "At practice, that is." she added bluntly, not really thinking about how that could be just as bad.

[Kaigen]

Naomi took a moment to pause the track, taking her sweet time of it too just to let the silence linger. She checked her messages also, holding her phone at just the right angle that Dane could see if she wanted. Near the top was Sophie, along with the rest of the band. "Hm. Looks here like I'm not her fucking secretary there Emmy. But if you like, my going rate for being a courier pigeon is ten bucks or a pack of smokes."

And she was happy to look imposing if it meant protecting a friend. "Happy to let her know whatever you'd like next time I see her. Since I will see her soon. Unlike you from the sounds of things."

Shit..that sounded like they were seeing each other. Not just bandmates, but more Naomi realized. "At practice, that is." she added bluntly, not really thinking about how that could be just as bad.

Dane's eyes narrow and her shoulders tense at the nickname, but she manages to keep her hands from clenching. By the time Naomi's finished, she's taking a deep breath and putting her shoulders down with clear effort. "You know what? Fine. Just—fine. I see what's going on now." Dane reaches into a pocket, pulls out a packet of cigarettes, and tosses them at Naomi. "Tell her that if she wanted to see someone else, she could have just told me that to my face instead of texting me some alarmingly vague bullshit to goad me into breaking up with her."

She shakes her head. "Or don't. Tell her I'm a colossal bitch who fully justified her decision if you want. It's clearly none of my business anymore. The cigs are just for finally letting me know what's really going on." With that, she turns and stalks away, muttering something that sounds like "don't know why I bothered worrying," under her breath.

* * *

And the next - oh no. Her face is hidden, and the soundproofing blocks any of those sobs from escaping, so Sophie can't even begin to identify who the pianist is. But she can see the shaking of the woman's shoulders, and her heart twists with pained compassion. How many times has she wanted to do that herself? How many times has she done that, far away from her mother or manager or anyone else?

She hovers, framed in the light of the doorway, one hand half-stretched towards the door handle and the other still curled up with fingers tap-tap-tapping that rhythm that fills her mind, while she debates whether to knock, to help, to move.

As Sophie hovers, the woman tilts her head to get her fingers under her glasses to wipe at her eyes. Her eyes meet Sophie's through the window and widen with shock. Immediately turning her face away, she hurriedly grabs her sheet music from the piano and stuffs it haphazardly in her bag, sheets crumpling up, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and opening the door.

"Sorry, you probably want to use this," she says, her voice tremulous. "It's not gonna help me anyway." She attempts to slide past Sophie and escape down the hallway.

* * *

"Vic," she confirms, nodding and leaning back a bit on the bench so she doesn't look quite so defeated by her call with Sayuri."I'm fine, just... you know. Bad news always likes to come when you're having a great day. It's fine though, I'm fine," she tells him quickly, trying to put on that stupid, bubbly mask again that's always hard to find when she's in a bad mood.

She sits her phone down, shaking her hands out like shes trying to fling the nervous energy off of herself as she pops up off of the bench. "So, what's up? Looking for Naomi?" she inquires, tucking her hands (and retrieved phone) into her shorts pockets as she looks up at the much taller man.

"I haven't seen her yet, but if I know her, we'll just need to listen for the inevitable ambulance sirens." Her grin broadens as she giggles. "Or she'll find you. She's sneaky like that." That's it, just keep talking and the bubbles come, Vic...

"I guess..." Curtis says, not sounding entirely convinced by Vic's protestations of being fine. "Has...Naomi not mentioned that I go here too? Believe it or not, I was just on my way to class." He shrugs helplessly. "Just being nosy I guess. This is my fourth year and I don't think I've ever seen so many people looking like the world was falling apart on the first day. Anyway, take it easy." He gives a wave and a faint smile as he turns to leave.

[Sophie Michaud]

one-two-three-and-four-and syncopate -

The rhythm evaporates in a puff of creaking hinges and crinkling pages as Sophie dodges back from the opening door, hands flying out to guard herself, fingers unfurling from the intent pattern of tapping.

"Sorry, you probably want to use this," she says, her voice tremulous. "It's not gonna help me anyway." She attempts to slide past Sophie and escape down the hallway.

"Thanks - it's okay - it's - " Sophie stammers.

Is the song gone? Will she ever find it again?

For a second, frustration crumples her face - but the thinking, reasoning part of her mind reminds her that it isn't this woman's fault, and her expression smooths out as she lets out a soft sigh.

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath, pulling herself out of the song-world and back into the hallway, fully focusing on the person in front of her. "Yeah, I did want to use the room," she says, looking back at the other pianist. "But…don't be so down on yourself," she offers softly. She has to ask: "Are you okay?" No, clearly she isn't. Sophie tries again: "I - I mean - what's wrong?"

[Jessica Callaghan]

"Hey," comes a voice somewhere down and to the left of Jessica's shoulder. A stocky guy with short brown hair who could almost blend in if it weren't for the giant, can-shaped cooler backpack he's carrying. He holds up a can of "Jitters" a tiny twin to the backpack dripping with condensation. Brown eyes glancing from side to side with the exaggerated, clandestine air of a soap opera drug pusher, he says "Need a hit? That looked like a mini-crash if I've ever seen one. Day's just getting started."

It hardly even registers that someone is talking to her.

She doesn't want an internship. Not at Spotify, not at Amazon Music, not at Apple, not ANY of those places, not after what she's seen. What Sophie's seen. What they know is out there. She stares at her phone until the screen goes to sleep again. A conversation with her mother -- though is it really a conversation, if one person's part is just to echo the other person? -- is the only thing that can put her at a loss for words. She shoves her phone into her pocket and turns to once again make her way toward the student center...

...and Mr. Jitters plants the can right in her face. She's got quick enough reflexes that she doesn't, like, eat the can or, like, take it square in the eye or anything, but it's a close thing.

"OH!" she squeaks. Literally squeaks. It's honestly kind of embarrassing, when you get right down to it.

”Uh… no thanks?” Jessica doesn’t want to talk to this guy, but she also doesn’t want to make him feel bad. ”I’ve had plenty of coffee already. Kickstarted my heart. Like the song?” She does a little air guitar solo, a little Vince Neil impression. ”Kickstart my heart, give it a start!”

Mr. Jitters stares at her like the movie’s just been switched to Polish with Chinese subtitles.

”Clearly ot a Motley Crue fan. It’s cool. I’m not really either, just…”

He reaches out and puts the can in Jessica’s hands. ”Just… take it. On the house.” He wastes no time finding another (sucker) customer. On another part of campus. Far from the crazy girl.

It almost always works, the just-past-slightly unhinged ramble. Jessica feels so much better now. Though she’s humming “Kickstart My Heart” now. She’s reaching for her phone to find something to banish that earworm with when…

Meanwhile, a text comes in from Claire:

”Happy first day of school!!! How many new second-besties have you already made?”

Jessica keeps walking while her thumbs fly over the screen. She has an aura about her, a force field of sunshine that keeps people from running her over somehow, even when she’s lost in text messages with her too-far-away bestie.

[Kaigen]

"Just gonna assume none of those have water in them." Nico looked around for a moment before spotting his discarded duffel bag sitting in the corner, and he walked over to it, rummaging around for a moment before producing an unopened bottle of water. Carefully stepping over some loose wires, Nico unconsciously bobbed his head to the springy, layered rhythm of the song in spite of himself, one lone spool of XLR cable still waving loosely around his neck like an avant-garde feather boa. Reaching up, he offered the bottle to Priyah. "Gotta keep those vocal cords fresh Boss. If we lose those velvet pipes, there won't be anyone left to tell the freshmen about the latest and greatest music on Soundcloud and Insta. He smiled wryly, doing his best to keep his blinks from desynchronizing as he returned his attention to the board.

"Got a sports drink around here somewhere," Priyah says, gesturing vaguely without taking her eyes off the screens. "That's basically the same." She still accepts the bottle, but she doesn't open it right away, fidgeting with the cap instead.

"If it makes you feel any better, the evasive attention span of the student body probably isn't rejecting us on purpose. Our signal’s been dropping packets since Facilities made us move the encoder. Maybe the network port can’t handle the stream, or the cable got damaged somewhere between here and the new closet.” He shrugged, giving the monitor with their broadcasting software open on it a cursory glance. "Or its aliens. Either way, our numbers might only be MOSTLY dogshit. Some of the dogshit is probably infrastructure.”

The toothpick in her mouth snaps in two. "Fucking Facilities." She spits wooden shards out to the side. "They're gonna keep pushing us into smaller and smaller spaces until we're cornered and tiny enough to drown in the toilet. And someone will get a goddamn gold star for cutting the budget. Hope they're ready for some pink eye."

“Good news is we can fix infrastructure. Eventually. Probably before you declare total war on Spotify.” His eyes travel from Priyah to the toothpick, to the three mugs, and finally to the posted prohibition against letting her perseverate over the dashboard. “Quick systems check first. You eaten today? Something you, like, have to chew? Other than toothpicks."

As he hung on that though, "No smoking (including Priyah)" caught his eye again.

"... need me to get you more toothpicks?"

Priyah shakes her head grimly. "I need something stronger. Popsicles. Or forget the ice and just bring me a bag of the sticks. Hell, nick some tongue depressors from the clinic if you think you can get away with it."

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss?" An authoritative voice pierces through and deflates Jessica's force field, even as the rapid-fire texts continue. A Campus Police officer is standing right in front of her, eyes moving between her and the can of Jitters she's still holding in a grip around her phone. "Were you given that by someone wearing an oversized Jitters backpack? Which way did they go? They're not authorized to market on campus."

[Nico Rivera-Park]

The toothpick in her mouth snaps in two. "Fucking Facilities." She spits wooden shards out to the side. "They're gonna keep pushing us into smaller and smaller spaces until we're cornered and tiny enough to drown in the toilet. And someone will get a goddamn gold star for cutting the budget. Hope they're ready for some pink eye."

Nico snorted, unable to conceal his amusement at Priyah's furious rant.

"Gotta be honest Boss, I don't see any administrative types actually working up the courage to corner you. I don't even think the Dean himself would have the balls. Besides, if they ever actually DID shut us down, then you'd be out there with the rest of the student body full time. I don't think they're willing to risk the upheaval that comes with a pissed Priya Shah in her senior year suddenly brimming with free time."

As the song came to an end, there was a moment of near silence in the long crossfade that welcomed Nico like an old friend. He reveled in the quiet; even in his lone moments that weekend, it had felt like constant motion and noise kept his mind and body in a state of active readiness, unable to let him relax or shut off and take a breath. Truthfully, there was still the buzzing of equipment. The murmurs of people in the halls beyond their little enclosed box. The distant beeps of frustrated drivers caught in the morning commute.

Nico closed his eyes. It was enough. A momentary slice of Xanadu.

There was a dandelion man (a little dandelion man)

He opened his eyes again.

And his name was Dandeloosha (Dandeloosha the dandelion man)

"... seriously though Pri. I know your shift relief should be coming in like an hour, but I also know you're probably gonna hover around keeping tabs because you don't trust Alex to hold down the temporary fort on his own. You should... but when have you ever listened to me?" He shrugged, cocking his head toward the senior.

"I have a class to sleep through in a couple hours, but I'll keep chasing down the signal issue for a bit. First though, promise me if I come back here with a breakfast burrito, you'll eat it." Nico slipped off the stool, closing his hands over Priyah's for a second and untwisting the cap of the water. "There's a new food truck that makes em pretty good. They can sub in turkey sausage, unless you suddenly started eating pork over the summer."

[Jessica Callaghan]

Jessica pokes merrily at the phone keyboard, all the while muttering snatches of ‘80s hair metal songs under her breath. As typical for her brain, Motley Crue has morphed into Poison and she’s just about to start in on The Final Countdown when there’s a disturbance in the force (field).

"Excuse me, Miss?" An authoritative voice pierces through and deflates Jessica's force field, even as the rapid-fire texts continue. A Campus Police officer is standing right in front of her, eyes moving between her and the can of Jitters she's still holding in a grip around her phone. "Were you given that by someone wearing an oversized Jitters backpack? Which way did they go? They're not authorized to market on campus."

Jessica looks up at the officer, blinking a few times, letting her eyes go wide and innocent. ”Give me… what? My phone?” Her eyes drop to her hands like dripping honey: slow and excessively sweet. She gives a startled little jump of surprise at seeing something other than her phone in her hands. ”This? Yeah, he had that goofy backpack and you know, I told him I didn’t want it, but I was telling him about how I’d had plenty of coffee and the song, you know the song, right? Motley Crue? I think it was the Dr. Feelgood album?” She tilts her head, looking the campo officer up and down. ”I bet you were a metalhead back in the day, weren’t you?” she says with a grin, her nose wrinkling up with the brightness of her smile. ”Anyway. Do you want it? For, like, you know, evidence?” She holds the can out to him. ”I’ve got lots of jitters already. Like, real jitters, I mean. Not the canned kind.”

She lets her expression go slack, pretending to remember the real question he’d asked her. ”Oh. Right. He went…” Jess whirls around. Her floppy hat starts to slide off her head, but she grabs it with both hands before it can fall all the way off. With one hand, she points sort of northeasterly and declares grandly, ”That a way! Off with you, good sir, and happy hunting of the unauthorized energy drink marketers!”

Her face brightens and she immediately starts typing on her phone, adding to the KILLER BAND NAMES note. ”Un…author…ized… Energy… Drink… Marketers.” The campus security officer has — to all available evidence — now ceased to exist.