Dreams That We Dare To Dream
By Rosie Gonce
Scott had wanted to go to the other bar that was downtown so he sat in the backseat sulking. He was being dragged along to go “drinking and find some girls,” which always lead to a night of a lot of drinking and getting rejected in subtle, polite ways by every single girl at the bar. He wasn’t in the mood to pretend that wasn’t going to happen. He had wanted to go to the bar downtown where there was a pool table and a jukebox with some of his favorite bands in it, U2 and Radiohead, in particular. Where the music wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t even think. He looked down at his baggy clothes, which he had barely tried to color-coordinate. Brown pants, plaid button-up, dark brown jacket, with one missing button. He used his fingers to brush his stringy, straw-colored hair back behind his ears. He was wishing he had gotten a haircut.
“Dude! Scott! Get that stick outta your ass! We’re not going to that shitty bar! All the chicks there are old and haggard!” Jerry yelled into the rearview mirror back at Scott, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Jerry had blond, curly hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. He had a five o’clock shadow that made him look older than he was, and his clothes were slightly too tight on him, partially because he always struggled to find clothes that fit. He was built like a football player but was never interested in sports.
“Seriously, Scott!” Danny chimed in turning around from the front passenger seat to make sure Scott could see his annoyed look. “If we go to The Moon Room then we have a way higher probability of getting laid! Who cares if the music sucks! The chicks that go there are down to fuck!” Danny had gelled his hair special for tonight. His dark brown hair was always neatly buzzed on the sides and a little longer on the top to mold, what many referred to as a faux-hawk. He wore his usual “going-out gear,” which was a gray button up shirt with black slacks and shiny black shoes. His friends often teased him and said it looked like he was going for a job interview. “In a way, I am!” Danny would sometimes rebut.
“Yeah, they’re nasty girls,” Nathan said quietly as he sat next to Scott, looking out the window. Nathan was the smallest of the four friends and he often made it more noticeable with his body language. He slouched in his seat with his shoulders curved in and his face peeking out the window, like a curious animal. He had scruffy, light brown hair that he didn’t brush, that was just long enough the cover half his ears. He had a black hoodie on with some jeans and some all-black converse. This was dressing up for him.
Scott rolled his eyes and sighed loud enough so everyone could hear him. Jerry turned up a Green Day song and pushed on the gas more than was necessary. Danny lit a cigarette and started rolling down the window, catching Nathan’s attention who yelled over the music, “Danny, can I bum one of those?”
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