Ace's Wild

Ace left the case in his bedroom and peered around the door. No one upstairs, and he heard his mother in the laundry room below. His dad should still be out of the house—if he snuck away now, he could be gone before they missed him. He could make up a reason later.

Stair by stair, he carried the heavy instrument case down, not wanting to drag it down because he knew his mother would hear it and come running immediately. Quiet, quiet, step, step, all the way down.

His mom came around the corner and he held his breath, trying to make himself as small as possible, which proved to be difficult with the huge black case at his side. She walked within feet of the stairs but didn’t see him, and soon he heard her in the music room and breathed a sigh of relief.

Five more steps, three, two, and he was at the door. He turned the knob, paused to listen for movement, and slipped outside. As promised, Susan’s car sat waiting for him at the opening of the cul-de-sac, and he got in as quickly as possible. They had a show in 2 hours and a bit of a drive ahead.

*****

Eight hours later, he stepped out of Susan’s car, leaving his case behind to pick up later. He waved goodbye to them, and started up the street home. While he walked, he prepared his story.

He dragged his fingers through his hair, making it as messy as possible. He pulled out some glitter spray he picked up at a gas station on the way home and gave his hair a good spritz, hoping it would be enough.

The plaid shirt he wore over his muscle shirt needed to go, so he slipped it off and tied it around his waist. He took a deep breath and tried to look tired and jazzed at the same time, not entirely difficult having just come from performing the best show of their lives.

This might be the second best performance if he managed to pull it off. He needed to act like he didn’t give a shit, and it needed to be convincing if he was going to make use of this in the future. He let out a breath, put on the best I-don’t-give-a-fuck expression he could manage, and opened the door.

Noise. The house shook with the force of the double bass coming from the music room, and Ace cringed a bit, but shook it off. They hadn’t heard him, he could just go straight up to his room; that would be the most effective. Just as his foot hit the bottom stair, though; his dad came around the corner.

“Ace Axl Pendergrasp, where the hell have you been?”

Ace’s back stiffened, but he used it to his advantage, turning just enough to give his dad a glare, “What the fuck is it to you?”
His dad took a step back, confusion registering on his face. “What did you just say to me?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“That’s what I thought.” There was another moment of his dad just staring at him, then he was across the floor, grabbing his son. “Man, you had me worried, all that shit lately. I told your mom—I told her once you became a teenager, things would be different. Thanks for proving me right, son.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.” There was a final proud pat on the shoulder, then Ace walked up to his room. He closed the door behind him and let out a breath.

Later, as he lay in bed thinking about the night, he heard his parents talking as they came up the stairs:

“I told you, Robin, he just needed to grow out of it!”

“I’m so glad, I thought he’d be doing that bluegrass shit forever.”

Ace sighed and smiled and fell asleep, dreaming of his pedal steel guitar.