EMERSON

Whatever it Takes // Imagine Dragons

Day two and it looks like I've established my routine. Go to school, get ignored by Zoe, ambushed by Chelsea, glared at by literally everyone else, and then drive home and make a PB and J before heading off to band practice.
I'm in the, make the PB and J, portion of my day and the peanut butter somehow multiplied and is now all over my fingers. Every time I try to wipe off my hand, I find another spot with the stuff smeared across. What the hell is up with peanut butter? I bet the normal stuff isn't this bitchy. My house is only stocked with organic gourmet peanut butter and boutique bought jam, not jelly. Some home-grown apricot shit. Even the bread is from some ridiculous upstart bakery run by a five-star pastry chef. Just once I want white bread with chunky Jiffy and grape jelly.

After using up about twenty paper towels to clean myself up, I think I've finally got it all. And that's exactly the moment my phone buzzes with a text. I'm positive it's not Zoe. There is no way she'd be trying to communicate with me. Not after that frosty reception she gave me this morning.

One word. That's all she muttered in my direction all day, one word. "Morning." That was it. The rest of the day it was chilly glares and silence. Talk about a freeze out, sheesh. I've never been shut down so hard by a girl. Especially one I wasn't even flirting with.

Lie. I was totally flirting with Zoe. I flirt with her every chance I get, but I thought my flirting was subtle and I thought she might find it charming, and I thought that maybe I would have a shot with her.

I feel in my back pocket for my phone then hesitate. Maybe I'm wrong about how she feels about me. Maybe, there's a chance that she got my number from Chelsea. Then I remember the expression on her face every time she looked at me today. No way Zoe is calling me.

I pull out my phone, only to find a smear of peanut butter on the edge. Shit! I wipe it off and check my notification.

I laugh out loud. What the hell is wrong with this chick? Honestly I have no idea what she's trying to tell me. For all I know Zoe just confessed her undying love for me. Ha. As if. I respond to her insanity with question marks and her reply is instantaneous.

She might be little, but dang! She's feisty. And impossibly pushy. Somehow, I got talked into letting her come over to my house. Well, more like Chelsea demanded to see the inside of my place when she picked me up for band practice and it took me exactly thirty seconds to realize why most people have a hard time saying no to that girl. Say no to her and she harasses you. Say no and she follows you around all day relentlessly trying to get you to change your mind. And eventually you give in just to get her to leave you the hell alone. That girl has seriously mastered the art of persuasion. Or more like marathon mental torture.

Before I have a chance to reply to her crazy text, the doorbell rings. Once again, I am home after school in an empty house. And thank god I am. I've planned it that way. Waited for a time I knew my parents and Rosa would be out to tell Chelsea to come by and pick me up. I walk slowly towards the door trying to prepare myself mentally for letting the little blonde hurricane into my inner sanctum.

The doorbell is ringing incessantly and for a moment I wonder if it's broken, but then, call it intuition, but I'm pretty sure its Chelsea ringing the doorbell on repeat.

"Calm down, woman!" I yell out as I turn the handle and open the door, but I don't get a chance to open it all the way before blondie is pushing through and knocking me back a half step.

"I smell peanut butter." Chelsea sniffs me, my chest, my hands and as she starts to crawl up my chest to my mouth—holy crap is she really trying to smell my mouth?—I put my hands up to stop her.

"Dude!" Seriously. What is wrong with her?

"It's dudette, and relax, Romeo, I'm just hungry. I'm really weird when I'm hungry so lead the way to the kitchen."

It's not just when she's hungry that this girl is weird. Chelsea is basically always weird. And of course, she doesn't even wait for me to lead her into my house before she is off down a hallway, hunting down food. For a moment I think I'm actually hallucinating, but when I catch up to her, I realize she really is chanting fee fie foe fum as she thunders her way towards my kitchen.

No way could I ever have imagined this happening yesterday when I was pissed of at the world, generally dreading life and blasting Anarchy in my room. And yet, here I am, following a blonde ball of energy into my kitchen. A preppy, popular girl who has decided she is my friend, whether I want her to be or not. I'm not exactly turning the establishment upside-down at this new school so far, but whatever.

"What's up? Band practice is in about a half hour, so we don't have a lot of time to hang out," I say as I watch Chelsea open cabinets and drawers. She is pulling different items out and generally helping herself to whatever makes her gush loudly, "Yum." Or "Double Yum."

"Like I said in my text, we've got problems," she says in between bites of an Oreo.

"You said that in your text?" I asked amazed. "I thought it was just fangirl hyperventilating with all of the random capitals and no actual words."
She gives me a side-eye as she discovers the bread and peanut butter and starts to make herself a sandwich. In between mouthfuls she demands, "And who would I be fangirling over? You?"
I'm sure my face registers some type of shock at her dismissal. Honestly, I'm not used to getting this type of treatment from the opposite sex. Most the time girls consider me somewhat charming and not bad looking.

Chelsea, the she-witch, must have read my expression, or maybe my mind because she snorts and says, "You're hot and all, don't get me wrong, but high school boys aren't my kink."

"So...you're into high school girls?" I say it before I can stop myself. Why the hell am I even commenting on her love life? I swear this girl is constantly pushing me off balance.

"Maybe, and if I am, so what? This is not the dark ages, Romeo." She turns and faces me, "But actually, most of the time I prefer mature men."

Okay that answer has me tongued tied. A mental picture of blondie and some forty-year-old dude has honestly turned me speechless.

"I'm not dating in high school, and no way I'm gonna date high school guys. They are unpredictable and I really don't need a broken heart at this tender, young age. Have you even seen what this whole high school love crap has done to Zoe? She's practically unrecognizable."

"I wouldn't know. Just met her yesterday." Chelsea keeps going on about Zoe as though she is a shell of her former self. To be completely truthful, I can imagine what Zoe at full volume could be like, when her confidence and spark are back to full capacity. She's got to be just indescribable like that. I can't wait to see it.

"You know what I mean. Anyway..." she says then takes a huge bite of P&B. Chelsea's sandwich is P and B minus the J. She took one look at our apricot jam and put it right back into the fridge. Smart girl.

After chewing for a few minutes and then gulping some milk, Chelsea continues on as though I wasn't just left here standing staring at her for five minutes while she finished her sandwich. Seriously this girl is a trip.

"Are you listening?" Her finger reaches out and pokes my chest. "We've got a problem, and I need you to do some pre-emptive confessing."

Shit. What is she talking about? Confess I have a rich family? I might have hidden the BMW from the band, but both Chelsea and Zoe yesterday had seen the outside of my house when Chelsea dropped me off. And now Chelsea is in the giant gourmet kitchen. A kitchen that looks like it came out of the pages of architectural digest. If blondie didn't get that my folks have money before, she knows for sure now. What could she need me to confess?

"Zoe knows you're a drummer. Dylan is a drummer," she says.

"And?" I answer back. Chelsea looks at me like I should be connecting the dots, but I have no idea where she's going with this.

"And, the second Dylan finds out, you're out!" she shouts. "You have to figure out a way to tell Dylan that won't threaten his standing in the band before Zoe tells him herself!"

What? "Why would she do that?" I'm am seriously lost and not getting what the hell is she is talking about. But I'm getting used to being confused around Chelsea. Confusion and shock are basically my go to reactions around this girl.

"Dang it, dopey!" She says crossing her arms. "She doesn't want you in the band, and she knows this is a sure way to get you out."

My heart sinks. Zoe doesn't want me in the band? After that seriously amazing duet we sang yesterday? Not gonna lie, if it's true that's harsh. I knew Zoe dislikes me, but this goes beyond that. Zoe's got it out for me? She would seriously put a target on my head? The situation is worse than I could have imagined. No way do I have a chance with Zoe if she hates me this bad.

Chelsea reaches out and touches my arm. "Em, she doesn't hate you. Not even a little. She's just really hurt right now and can't see past her own little world of pain. Be patient with her."

How does this chick always seem to know what I'm thinking? I honestly have never had someone catch my emotions so fast. Normally I have a great poker face, and no one, including my family have any idea what's going on in my head or my heart.

But Chelsea seems to know. The little psychic seems to somehow understand how everyone around her is feeling. Is she right that Zoe doesn't truly hate me? I feel a glimmer of hope at her words. But I have no idea how to convince Dylan my drumming isn't a threat to him. After listening to his playing yesterday, I'm going to have a hard time keeping my talent hidden and my mouth shut.

If I get the itch to grab the sticks and play the drums once, or I mouth off and tell him what I really think, that's going to piss him off, and then bye-bye bass player. I tell as much to Chelsea, but she's not letting me off the hook.

"I don't buy it, Em. There's a way to convince Dylan." Chelsea checks her phone. "It's time to go. Zoe's tired of waiting in the car."

"What! Has she been in the car this entire time?" Once again, I'm convinced there is something completely wrong with Chelsea's social skills. They don't exist.

"Yes! I told you in my text!" Chelsea pulls up her phone and points to the letters as she tells me what they stand for. "Hey Handome, Zoe's in the car, but I'm coming right in stay put we got problems."

"Oh my god! How the hell was I supposed to get all that from your text? Seriously, who talks like this?"

Chelsea just shrugs. "Awesome people. Come on, grab your stuff and let's go." She wipes her hands on a paper towel, only needing one some how while I needed an entire roll. Then she grabs her phone and keys and heads to the door. The wrong way.

"Over here, Einstein." I point in the correct direction and lead the way. My bass is leaning against the door, so I grab it as we walk out.
Sure enough, Zoe is sitting in the front seat of Chelsea's car with her purple beats firmly in place. Her eyes are closed and her head is leaned back on the headrest. But she's still moving, still feeling every note of whatever she's listening to. She is lost in the music. Her black hair is pulled up in a top knot and she's got on some shredded tank top. I have a feeling it's an old band t-shirt she's cut up herself. God, I love that. I love everything about this girl.

"Hey, that's why you can't give up, Romeo. That girl right there is worth it." Chelsea's voice is quiet, even though I'm positive Zoe can't hear her. "And you've got the backseat all to yourself today. Couldn't convince her otherwise."

I huff a sigh, sad to not have Zoe up against me today, but I realize it wouldn't do any good at this point. I need to be patient. My motion down the front steps must have caught Zoe's attention, because her eyes open and her face turns towards mine. Our eyes lock, that familiar energy is flowing through us because she's mouthing the words and I know the song.

...Whatever it takes...

I nod my head. Because yeah, I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever I need to do to bring the spark back into her eyes. I'm not letting a little cold shoulder stop me. Or a plan to get me kicked out of the band. Nope. She's not getting rid of me that easily.

...adrenaline in my veins...

Zoe's eyes go wide when she spots me, and she shoots a look over to Chelsea that says it all. She is not happy I'm carpooling to band practice. That's okay. This girl might not like me now, but I'm not giving up. Nothing like a little challenge to get my blood pumping. I'm not giving up on Zoe. No matter how hard she tries to shove me away.

Emerson's got it bad...but Zoe still isn't having it. Hopefully patience will be the key to winning her heart. Or not... who knows! So we didn't make it to the second day of band practice, but we'll find out about that eventually.

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Emerson certainly will do whatever it takes, so this song is perfect.

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