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Saturdays were usually Montana's favorite day: the freedom,
the spare time, the long hours of practice with his friends. This Saturday was
different.
A gentle rain pounded outside the garage. Montana
sat motionless in the dim light of the
single lamp that illuminated the entire garage,
head rested in his paws, a large yellow envelope resting in his lap. A downhearted
look was drawn on the Gelert's face. He knew he had to tell his friends the
truth about the envelope. But how could he tell his friends the truth? The truth
hurts. And when you have to tell your friends the truth, they can wind up becoming
your worst enemies.
Montana ran a claw across the words. "To the
Owner of Montana. Open Immediately--Important." He sighed heavily. Sure, he
was happy that he was on the road to stardom, and sure, he was glad he had fans.
And sure, all that's well and good, but pushing your friends aside...that's
a whole other story.
There was a soft knock at the garage door. "Montana!"
the voice yelled. "Open up! It's pouring out here!"
The Gelert hesitated for a bit. He couldn't let
them in. Whatever, he told himself, the news can wait until tomorrow. No, that
wouldn't be right. No, I should...Ugh! What should I do? Open the door, or leave
my friends to freeze in the rain? Montana slunk down from his stool and slowly
slid open the door.
A Mynci, Acara and Eyrie were all huddled together
under a large yellow and pink umbrella, somber expressions spread across each
of their faces. "Hey Monty," Tansy whispered. "Can we come in?"
"Uh..." The Gelert rubbed the back of his neck
nervously, his eyes wandering. "Sure. Come on in. Take a seat."
"Thanks," Mike said, "took you long enough."
The Neopets shoved past Montana and sat in a large circle on the concrete garage
floor.
Montana walked over to the circle and sat down
beside Tansy. "So, how's your Sat-"
"Montana," Tansy interrupted, "we're not too
pleased with you right now. Why did you leave us hanging yesterday?"
"W...what do you mean?"
"You just sashayed out of that skating rink like
we weren't even important to you," Wynn spoke up, his eyes angry narrow slits.
"You didn't tell us anything about the agent or what he said to you."
Montana sighed as he covered his eyes in exasperation.
"I'm sorry, okay? I just had a lot to do here, okay?."
"Whatever," Tansy replied angrily, "nothing's
ever more important than you friends. We were all planning to go out and celebrate."
"Yeah," Mike blabbed, "I spent weeks working
at Tansy's owner's bakery just to earn money to go out and eat someplace."
"I'm really sorry," Montana regretted.
"Hmph." Tansy wrapped herself tightly in a large
purple blanket she found in the corner of the garage. "So, exactly what did
the agent tell you about the band?"
"Well..." Montana cleared his throat and cracked
a weak grin. "I got accepted."
"Okay, that's neat," Wynn reasoned, "but what
about the rest of us?"
Montana gulped silently. A large knot began to
shape in his stomach as all of the pets looked him in the eyes. "Well...I got
accepted."
"So? What does that mean?"
"It means that...I...got accepted."
He knew it. Montana was expecting it; the long
awkward silence, the knot in his stomach, the guilt he'd have to face. But the
load was off his chest. He told his friends the truth.
Tansy's face began to twitch as if she were going
to cry. "But...Montana, how could you?"
"Look, I talked to the guy and..." Tansy left
the circle and began to storm out of the garage. Montana stepped in front of
the pink Acara. "...he said that there was only a spot for one guy in the new
band he's managing, and..."
The Acara began pulling the door open. Montana
grabbed her shoulders in frustration, whirred her around and began shaking her.
"Tansy, listen to me! It's all he could manage!"
"I did listen to you!" Tansy shrieked, her red
cheeks swelling as tears flowed freely from her rosy eyes. "That's what got
us into this whole muddle!"
"Tansy..." Montana began to cry as well. "It's
all he could do. I'm sure of it."
"If it was all he could do," Tansy rebutted,
"then why didn't you turn him down? Why give up your friends for your moment
of fame?"
"I'm..." Montana's voice began to grow deeper.
"I'm not giving you up!" His lips began to purse in anger. "It's not like everything
I do has to be about you! It looks like I'm not the only selfish one around
here."
The Acara's eyes were filled with fear as she
raised he paw to strike her friend. Montana grabbed her paw in the nick of time.
"Don't hit me!" Montana demanded as he shoved
the Acara's paw to her side. "All you've ever talked about is our friendship,
our band. Well, if all of you have a problem with it, then why are you the only
one making a big fuss about it?"
"Because we've been to scared to talk about it
until now," Wynn hissed as he rose from the floor and walked by Tansy's side.
"The truth is, you are letting us all down. And if you're turning against Tansy..."
The Mynci tenderly grasped the Acara's small paw in his and wept silently. "...Then
I'm standing with her."
"Me too," Mike said. "I hate your selfish attitude.
You never gave us snack time, and I'm sick and tired of it. You always work
us too hard just so you can get your gig." He scooped the Acara's paw to his
side. "I'm standing against you, too!"
"But guys, wait!" Montana crumbled under the
pressure. He began to weep loudly. "You...you can't leave the band. You just
can't leave. We've all worked hard to get this far. Please. Don't leave."
"We may have worked to get this far," Wynn rasped,
"but you're the only one benefiting from it all."
"I...I..." Montana's face balled up tightly as
he shoved the Mynci to the ground. "You just stop talking! I'm not even done
talking yet!" Montana sniffled twice and wiped his eyes. "Now, just listen.
The band doesn't have to split apart..."
"Montana," Tansy pleaded as she tugged on the
Gelert's arm.
"...Because I've already arranged to solve this
problem..."
"Montana..."
"...And I asked my brother to take over the band
so..."
"Montana, listen! We're not taking this anymore!"
Tansy snatched her umbrella from the floor. "We've heard enough. We all know
you're going to ditch us. It's what we'd expect from you. So right now, I'm
officially saying this." The Acara snatched a skinny silver bracelet from her
wrist. A gilded thunderbolt was inscribed into the thin metal plate in the middle
of the chain clanked softly as it dropped to the hard floor. "I'm quitting the
Thunderbolts."
Wynn stepped forward and dropped his bracelet
on the floor. "Me too."
Mike shrugged. "I lost mine, but me too."
Montana began to cry again. "Fine then. If you're
quitting, then you have no business in my garage! Get out!" He opened the door
furiously.
"We will," Tansy backfired as the pets paraded
out of the door. "And I call myself an idiot for ever liking you."
Montana gave the Acara a blank stare, then closed
the garage door. It was over. For good.
The Gelert looked around the barren garage. It
looked so large now, so open, now that the drums and keyboard were no longer
there.
Montana walked to the back corner of the room.
A shard of syrup-stained glass lay lonely on the cement. The Gelert cradled
it lovingly in his paws, stuffed it in his pocket, and sighed, "The only piece
I have left of you guys."
***
A week passed. The sun shined brightly through the tall trees as birds began
to twitter and sing. A pink Acara slung a guitar over her shoulder. "Five! Six!
Seven! Eight!"
A loud beat began to ring out. It was just like
it was in the garage; loud, electrifying, exciting, but this time, it was much
slower. The Acara closed her eyes and began singing:
"There's sickness and mugging, there's fixes
and scraps;
There's all sorts of unsettling and trying mishaps;
But I know from experience, as a matter of fact,
That's there's nothing worse than being stabbed
in the back.
"I've been betrayed, my heart is broken;
I begged and pleaded, but he has spoken;
He's mulish and stubborn, his heart is like stone,
He ditched us forever, he left us alone."
Tansy's head swung slowly as each mellow note
soared above the thick branches of the trees and vanished into thin air. As
the sun shone warmly on her face, her troubles began to flee from her. A heavy
weight was lifted off of her shoulders as he strummed her guitar.
"Hold it!" Wynn called out. Tansy's eyes snapped
open as she glared at her Mynci friend. "Why are we singing this song? It's
about Montana!"
"Yeah," Mike agreed. "No one wants to sing about
him anymore! There's no need to obsess about that son of a snob."
"But," Tansy whined as she dabbed here eyes,
"it makes me feel better if I sing away my problems. It's better than punching
something."
"Really?" Mike held his large stomach with pride
and beamed. "If I have a problem, I just eat it away."
"Figures," Tansy said. "Come on, lets start over.
Five! Six!--"
"No," Wynn argued. "I'm not singing this song.
Let's sing Phantom Of The Concert, please?"
"No!" Tansy wiped her forehead. "It's too hot
to argue with you guys. We're going to play--"
"If you're going to boss us around like that
big, black, stuck-up, curly-eared, googly-eyed bully, then I'm leaving!" Wynn
tossed his drumsticks onto the plush grass of Tansy's front lawn.
"Me too," Mike said.
"Ugh!" Tansy stormed over to the two pets as
they left the house. "Fine! Leave!"
"We will," Wynn said.
"Fine! Run off to your little buddy Montana,
traitors!"
"We're not going to see Montana," Mike boasted,
"we're going to start our own band!"
To be continued...
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