Drive by Diana Wieler

reason, once Daniel started singing, the room seemed to draw closer to him, wrap around him. People stopped asking me for songs, and started asking him.
    I wasn’t really listening. The music seemed to take place at the edge of my hearing. One song caught me, though, maybe because it was softer and slower, as pretty as a ballad. I was certain it was a request – my brother didn’t writelove songs. I think it was called Chantel.
    I was too busy to listen long. Occasionally I’d look over and I was mystified. Daniel kept drinking but his glass never seemed to empty. Then I saw the snooker player in the white shirt sidle up to him, making a request. My brother smiled and touched his glass. The man smiled back and left his own full one on the table.
    The little sneak! I felt an angry flare before reason took over. Give him hell tomorrow, I told myself. Tonight he’s what they want.
    Not since my days of chocolate almonds had I been on such a roll. I couldn’t fold up the bills fast enough. But it wasn’t just about money. I was hungry to talk to people, glad to listen to any life that wasn’t my own. The stories and hushed secrets wrapped around me like an arm: the wife who gambled away the house; the daughter who ran off with her teacher. The memory of yesterday morning was easing away, and I needed it to. I needed somebody to trust me.
    â€œThis song is from my debut. I only sing it when I’m pissed.”
    Daniel’s slurred voice leapt out at me across the smoky buzz. At the back of the room I stood up, straining to see him. He was sitting now, vest gone, sweat staining dark circles on the denim shirt. He was hugging the guitar, hat pushedback, his bleary face naked to the audience.
    He wasn’t just high, he was smashed.
    Alarm shot through my body. Pack it up, get him out now.
    â€œIt’s about the worst night of life,” Daniel continued, and he grinned stupidly, bravely. “It’s for my brother.”
    I was rooted to the floor. He struck the first chords and dimly I realized this was a ballad, too, but it was no love song.
    All I ever did was walk behind you
    Try to learn how to be
    I guess you never asked for
    A shadow who looked like me
    You were there first
    So I guess its your right
    To throw me out
    Chew me up
    Cut me down
    But did you ever think… that was my room too?
    You had lots of friends, I had only you
    You had the whole world, I had that room
    But, hey, it’s your right
    There was a sketching of applause. Some people glanced at me but it was late and many were too drunk to care.
    I was sober. I sat down heavily, the room spinning, my guts churning.

TEN
    It happened at the end of April in my grade nine year. I’d been fifteen for a week and I liked it. I was five-feet-eleven – not the tallest guy in my year, but the only one who could take down our gym teacher Mr. Flett in wrestling, take him down and keep him there, make him grunt and struggle, then finally laugh. He said he was glad I’d be going to Rosetown Senior High the next year.
    â€œYeah, Jens, that’s how I keep my job,” Mr. Flett teased. “Keep the boys home and send the men on to Rosetown.”
    I was feeling so close. I’d had my learner’s permit for three months and I was doing really well – terrific, Mom said. That day in April she’d promised I could drive us to Winnipeg for dinner out; Dad was working late. Daniel couldride up front with me, and she’d sit in the back.
    â€œI’ll read a book,” she said. “I won’t say a word.”
    Daniel and I were revved about it. It was almost like being out on our own.
    â€œLet’s go to Gooey’s for pizza subs,” he said cheerfully. “She hates that place!”
    â€œWhen I’ve got my license, you and me will go there all the time,” I promised.
    I had lots of plans for when I got my license.
    In a small town, everybody dates everybody else