Page 14 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

Goddammit.

I click the notification, and it sends me straight into a chat—with one message.

Camboy89: You don’t hate me yet, but you will.

I suck in a breath, throat, and eyes burning. My chin wobbles while my nose tingles, letting me know tears will come.

Phoenix: Bored?

Phoenix: Leon not up to snuff?

Phoenix: Or are you just high as fuck, not knowing what to do with yourself?

My fingers keep flying over the touchscreen. At this point, I don’t even know what I’m going to say until it’s typed and sent.

Phoenix: Hate means you care.

Phoenix: I don’t care.

Phoenix: Not anymore.

I wait, seeing that he’s read them, and the dots pop up.

Camboy89: Is that why you unfollowed Leon? And his band? Because you “don’t care”?

“Mother fucker,” I growl.

Camboy89: Don’t you get it? I helped you. I saved you.

Camboy89: Least you can do is thank me.

I can’t stop myself. It just comes out like word vomit.

Phoenix: Why, thank you, Eli, for showing me how stupid I was. You really pried open my eyes. Thank you for hiding your drug addiction. Thank you for being a constant reminder that I’m worth fuck all in comparison to powder. Thank you for ghosting me, leaving me stranded on my sister’s wedding day, and causing such a fucking scene people are still talking about it a year later.

Phoenix: THANK YOU.

Phoenix: Go fuck yourself.

I block him, chuck my phone by my feet, curl into a ball, and slam my eyes shut just as the tears slip free.

Phoenix

Love Is Dead

Being on the road sucks as much as it doesn’t.

Since we have a strict budget, we only get decent food once a week. For the past ten days, we’ve been living on gas station food and bologna sandwiches, so I’m excited to finally get my ass in a diner for some good breakfast. I’m tucked in the back of the circle booth, Devon on my right and Kelly on my left. Jorge needs the edge of the booth, so he’s in his usual spot. Scrambled eggs and some hash browns sound fantastic right now.

It’s been three days since I blocked Eli on Snapchat. I almost blocked him everywhere, but that’d only give him a reason to seek me out. No one knows he approached me—I’m keeping it to myself for now because I know everyone is tired of the drama surrounding me. The exposure from this tour is good for us and our band. We all share the same dream.

Jorge wants to be the next Will Ramos, and Kelly wants to be the next Tuomas Holopainen—we all have ambitions to be the next best thing in the metal genre.I’ve always looked up to guys like Chris Adler and Jaska Raatikainen.

If this dream dies for whatever reason and we all have to grow up and get real jobs, I’d probably work at an animal shelter. I don’t know if it’d support me or give me a real career, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe I’d get into the food industry. I like cooking, too. Obviously, none of uswantto give up the rockstar goal, and we all want to do this until we’re seventy, like KISS or ACDC. But sometimes, I see myself doing other things and being just as happy.

Devon nudges me, pulling me from my thoughts. “You good?”

I straighten, catching his eyes. “Yeah. Why?”

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