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Jesse was sitting outside under the bleachers by the track, head bent over his sketchpad and headphones blasting Zen Arcade, when Badger popped up beside him and said, "Hey man, I didn't know you had P.E. this hour!"
Jesse pulled off his headphones and shook his head. "I don't, I have chemistry this hour. But there's a quiz that I didn't even study for so I figured, like, why bother?"
"Yeah, right on. What are you drawing?"
Jesse was happy to show off his creation. "You know how we're gonna start a band? I'm working on a logo for it."
Badger stared at it for a long time. Jesse figured his friend was impressed. But then he spoke up and said, "Um, it's cool and all, but I thought… I thought we were gonna call the band Jeffrey Dahmer's Man Meat."
Jesse said, "Oh, yeah, well… I mean, I know that was one idea…" After they'd gotten fucked up at Anthony's house and started talking about starting a band, a lot of potential band names had been tossed around. Jesse had written them all down. But after looking them over, he really thought that TwaüghtHammër was way better than Jeffrey Dahmer's Man Meat, Bad Trouble, Pizza Burger, Ant Picnic, Sour Spite Candy, Savage Sandwich Brigade, or Black Death Licorice.
Actually, he thought a lot of those band name ideas had probably just come from a wicked case of the munchies. TwaüghtHammër was perfect, Jesse knew it. He just had to convince Badger and the other guys, and he figured having a sweet-ass logo would help.
"It was my idea!" Badger protested.
"But I just thought that one sounded kinda, like, gay."
"No way man, it's just like, edgy. You know? Cannibalism. Like… society. Right?"
"Yeah… I guess. But think about TwaüghtHammër! Doesn't that sound tight?"
"Ohh, Twat Hammer? You spelled it wrong, though. Wait, or is that how you spell it?"
"Yo, all the best bands have umlauts in their names."
"What's an umlaut?"
"The two little dots over the letters. It's like, German. It's hardcore. Like, you know, Motörhead, Mötley Crüe, Queensrÿche, Hüsker Dü, Blue Öyster Cult… and now, TwaüghtHammër."
"Oh, I so didn't know there was a name for that thing! Awesome!"
Jesse smiled. "Right? Plus, TwaüghtHammër… I mean, that's the kind of name that picks up chicks. You know? Like, truth in advertising, yo." He made a hand gesture to demonstrate, in case Badger didn't get it.
"Totally. To. Tall. Ee," Badger said, nodding vigorously.
Then Coach Evans stuck his head under the bleachers and said, "Mayhew! You're supposed to be running laps right now! And Pinkman… shouldn't you be in class?"
Jesse said, "I have free period this hour."
"Uh huh," Coach Evans said. "Well, take your free period back inside. You're clearly distracting my students."
Badger shrugged and walked toward the track.
"So totally fascist," Jesse mumbled. It was the last semester of his senior year, and he didn't understand why they couldn't just give him his diploma already. Was he really going to pick up anything crucial in these last few months?
"What was that?" Coach Evans asked.
"I said, see you later."
"Uh huh."
Jesse stuffed his sketchpad back in his bag and spent the rest of the period hiding in the bathroom in the vo-tech wing. Mr. White would totally give him detention the next day, but it would be worth it. Jesse just couldn't deal with chemistry today. When the bell rang, he slipped out and went to English class. He actually had done the reading for today. Well, some of it. He'd skimmed it, anyway. The Scarlet Letter was way less sexy than it sounded, it turned out.
Of course Mrs. Martinez called on him, even though his hand wasn't even up. Typical. "Jesse? We haven't heard from you today. What do you think?" she asked.
Jesse bit his lip. They'd been talking about the letter itself, he knew, but he'd zoned a bit on the details. He said, "Well, um, I mean, I know it's supposed to be for adultery, but what if the A is also like, a symbol for school? Like maybe Hester wants people to think she's a good student."
A few other kids snickered, and Mrs. Martinez looked like she was trying not to laugh herself. "Interesting theory, but ultimately fallacious."
"Wh-what?" Was Mrs. Martinez seriously talking about felatio in class? Jesse should have done a better job skimming the book!
"Fallacious. It's a fallacy, Jesse. Meaning that it's an argument with poor reasoning, something that doesn't quite add up. For example, the system of letter grading that we use today wasn't used until the 18th century. The 'A' wouldn't have had that connotation in the Puritan era."
"Oh. Well… how was I supposed to know that, yo?"
Mrs. Martinez smiled. "Like I said, Jesse, it was an interesting theory. Any other ideas?"
Jesse slunk down in his seat and shook his head 'no.' Mrs. Martinez's smile faded slightly, and she said, "Okay… how about you, Ashley?"
Ashley started talking about how Hester wanted to claim her own identity or whatever. Jesse wished they could read books that they could just understand without having to figure out all the symbolism and shit. He looked down at the blank page of his English notebook and wrote the word "fallacy." He liked the sound of it, even if it was shitty to be told his idea was one. He underlined it, and then started doodling another version of the TwaüghtHammër logo. He could totally picture it on stickers and T-shirts. And maybe like a big banner they could use at gigs.
Fucking finally, school let out, and Jesse made his way to the far edge of the parking lot where he usually met up with Badger, Skinny Pete, Combo, and the rest of their friends. It was far enough from the school that they didn't usually get hassled about smoking. Jesse had beat them there, and he lit up a smoke while he waited. He'd gotten halfway through it by the time Skinny Pete and Anthony sidled up to him.
"What's happening, man?" Skinny Pete asked.
Jesse exhaled and said, "I can't wait to be done with school."
"I feel that," Anthony said. "Two more months till sweet freedom."
"Word," Skinny Pete agreed.
"So, what's going on?" Jesse asked.
Anthony shrugged. "Paul has to work. I think Combo got detention. You guys can come over if you want, maybe play some Goldeneye or whatever? My mom'll be home though."
Skinny Pete shrugged noncommittally. Jesse said, "What about Badger?" He really wanted to talk to him about TwaüghtHammër.
Skinny Pete said, "I think I saw him talking to that chick Dana?"
Jesse frowned. Badger hadn't mentioned anything about Dana to him. Was she gonna be TwaüghtHammër's Yoko Ono before they even really started? He lit another cigarette.
Then Badger came walking across the parking lot and said, "Hey, Dana DeLaurio wants to know if she can buy some weed? But I'm dry."
Jesse exhaled a relieved puff. Skinny Pete said, "Right on, I think I can hook you up. When does she want it?"
"I assume like, as soon as possible?"
Jesse gasped. "Oh, shit, I just remembered, I was supposed to leave right after school! I'm supposed to, uh, help my aunt with something."
"Oh, that bites," Anthony said.
Jesse shrugged. He hadn't told any of his friends about Aunt Ginny's cancer yet. It wasn't that he didn't think they'd be cool about it or anything, but it was still too new, and he felt like maybe talking about it would make it more real somehow.
"Yeah, totally," he said. He ground out his cigarette and stalked off toward the bike rack. He unlocked his BMX and pedalled furiously.
"Sorry, sorry, I totally lost track of time," he said, rushing in the door of Aunt Ginny's house.
"It's okay, sweetie," Aunt Ginny said. She didn't look like she had cancer. "You know those doctors like to just make you sit around and wait anyway."
Jesse loved how Aunt Ginny never made him feel bad when he fucked up. If he'd been late to meet his mom, she would have guilt tripped him for days.
"I'll be on time next time, I swear," he said. "Let's go." He drove her across town where, sure enough, they sat in the waiting room for twenty minutes.
While they waited, Jesse made Aunt Ginny laugh by reading out loud to her from People magazine and making fun of Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. Jesse hated all those fake pop stars. But maybe one day a legit band like TwaüghtHammër could be in here. Or was that selling out? He'd have to talk it over with the band.
Finally, though, they got called back, and the doctor--Jesse had missed her name--made them look at pictures of her insides. Jesse knew he was supposed to take notes and stuff, so they could share them with the family later. They said you were supposed to have another person there because the patient herself might not be able to focus. Jesse didn't really think he was the best guy for the job, but his parents wouldn't take off work, and Aunt Ginny didn't have any other family around, so Jesse would just have to do his best.
He took his English notebook out of his backpack, and under the word "Fallacy" he wrote, "Pancreatic cancer. Stage 2. Recommended Whipple procedure." He snorted at that, even though he couldn't help himself. The doctor gave a thin smile and said, "I know it's a bit of a funny name, but it's easier than saying 'pancreaticoduodenectomy.'"
"You got that right," Jesse said. "Um, so what exactly does that mean?"
"It means we'll remove your aunt's pancreas."
"And then the cancer will be gone?"
The doctor's face was serious and she said, "Maybe. It's the first step, and then we'll monitor her condition. Pancreatic cancer is… it can be very complicated. It may already have spread to her blood vessels. It's likely that she'll also need chemotherapy or radiation, after the surgery."
Jesse nodded seriously and wrote it all down. Then he chewed his pencil and said, "Um, what does the pancreas do exactly?"
"It's an endocrine gland that produces important hormones, like insulin and glucagon."
"So… is Aunt Ginny gonna be, like, diabetic without it?"
"You'll discuss the procedure in more detail with the surgeon, but in short, following the procedure, she will have to follow a very strict diet. Her condition will also be managed with a regimen of medications."
"That sucks," Jesse said.
"Yeah, it does," Aunt Ginny said.
"It's important to maintain a positive outlook," the doctor said. Jesse wrote down, "positive outlook."
The doctor talked for awhile longer, and Jesse wrote down more notes. Finally she said, "Any other questions?"
Jesse asked, "But she's gonna be okay, right? After all this?"
"We'll do our best," the doctor replied.
Jesse knew when adults were bullshitting him, and he swallowed hard. Aunt Ginny stood up and said, "Thank you, Dr. Patel." Jesse quickly wrote "Patel" in the margins of his notes, so he wouldn't forget next time.
"Yeah, uh, thanks," Jesse said.
Dr. Patel shook both their hands and said, "Taryn at the receptionists' desk will help you schedule a joint appointment with myself and Dr. Alexander, the oncological surgeon. If you have any questions in the meantime, feel free to give me a call."
In the car, Jesse said, "Sorry for sounding dumb, in the appointment."
Aunt Ginny smiled at him and said, "I'm glad you were there, Jesse. To be honest, I didn't really know what the pancreas does either."
Back at her house, she said, "Why don't you stay over for dinner? I'll make lasagna."
"Hell yeah," Jesse said. "Is it okay if I practice my drums for awhile?"
"Of course, Jesse, that's why they're here." Jesse's parents had frowned upon his volume levels, so Aunt Ginny had let him start keeping his drums in her garage. Aunt Ginny appreciated rock and roll. She didn't mind if he smoked weed in there either, as long as he shared when she wanted some.
"Cool, thanks. Me and Badger and Paul and some of the guys are gonna start a band."
"That's great! Sounds like a lot of fun."
"Yeah, it's gonna be pretty dope."
While Aunt Ginny fussed in the kitchen, Jesse blasted Hüsker Dü and played drums along with them. They were old school, but their sound was still so awesome. He loved how loud and fast they played, and drumming along with them made him feel invincible, like nothing could get through the wall of sound. He screamed along with "Pink Turns to Blue":
And I don't know what to do
Now that pink has turned to blue
She was always by my side
And never tried
To leave
Standing up for me
And like a tree
For what she believed
At the end of the song, he paused for breath, even though the album went on to "Righteous Industry." Then he realized Aunt Ginny was standing in the doorway. She had an odd expression on her face, and Jesse wondered how long she'd been standing there listening to him sing about death.
"Dinner's ready, sweetie," she said.
"Oh, right on, thanks."
He stashed his drum sticks and went back in the house with her. "I'll set the table," he said.
"Ah, don't worry about it," Aunt Ginny said. "We can just use paper plates. If my days are numbered, I don't wanna spend 'em doing dishes."
"I-I can do the dishes, Aunt Ginny! And you're gonna be fine. Dr. Patel said to keep a positive outlook."
She laughed. "Jesse, you have to keep your sense of humor in times like these."
"Oh… yeah, totally."
She spooned out a big piece of lasagna onto a paper plate and handed it to him.
"God, Aunt Ginny, this is so dope," Jesse said after his first bite. "I mean, seriously, delicious."
"I'll leave you the recipe in my will."
Jesse coughed. "Seriously, Aunt Ginny, the doctor said stage 2. You're so not dying."
"We're all dying, Jesse, it's just a matter of when."
"Whoa. Is that from a song or something?"
She smiled. "Not that I know of. Why don't you write one? For your new band. What are you guys called? Do you have a name yet?"
Jesse cleared his throat and said, "Uh, we're still batting around ideas, but I think we're all leaning toward, uh, TwaüghtHammër."
Aunt Ginny threw her head back and laughed. "Oh God. Oh God. TwaüghtHammër. That's hilarious, Jesse. Oh. Oh no, you didn't mean it as a joke."
"No, I mean… yeah, it's kinda funny, totally," Jesse said. "We're gonna be like, an alt emo thrash metal band."
"I think it sounds great, Jesse. You guys will be a good alternative to all those mainstream emo thrash metal bands." Jesse knew his aunt was making fun of him, but in like, a nice way. She added, "You guys can practice in my garage if you want."
"That would be awesome. Thanks, Aunt Ginny!"
"No problem. But I want VIP tickets to all of TwaüghtHammër's shows."
"You got it," Jesse said, relieved that she hadn't made some kind of joke about not making it to see them play or something. He loved Aunt Ginny's sense of humor, but he totally didn't want to talk about her dying.
After dinner, he went back out to the garage. Instead of playing along with Hüsker Dü, though, he decided to start trying to write some new material for TwaüghtHammër, like Aunt Ginny had suggested. He didn't want to write that song about death, though.
He opened up his notebook and saw all his notes from English class and the doctor's office. He thought about how Mrs. Martinez had basically told him that "fallacy" was a nice way of saying "bullshit" and he thought he could probably make a pretty good song about that. He hit out a rhythm and started singing, "Fallacy, fallacy." Then he realized he should probably pluralize it.
He sang, "Fallacies, fallacies," and it sounded so good that he just kept repeating it. High school was a fallacy. Aunt Ginny's cancer was a fallacy. His parents' shitty attitudes were fallacies. Keeping a positive outlook was a fallacy. Everything was a fucking fallacy.
Jesse played until his hands and wrists hurt, but his mind felt better. He turned to a blank page in his notebook and wrote out the lyrics he'd come up with so far. He thought it might need a little more work, but even the first draft was pretty awesome.
Jesse totally understood what it meant to suffer for your art now. And he couldn't wait to play his new jam for Badger and the guys.