Saving Kelsea Ch. V

Chapter Five

Karrie’s was extra busy today, Patricia thought. When they entered the restaurant the hostess gave each of them tickets with numbers on them. The restaurant was colorfully lit with blue, red, green, and clear lights and the music was blaring. The place could've been divided into three sections: to the right was a bowling alley, in the middle was the restaurant with neat rows of circular booths with the karaoke stage in the very back, and to the left was a glow-in-the-dark arcade.

“What’re the tickets for?” asked Warren.

“Whenever a person’s number is called they are invited onto the karaoke stage,” she replied.

“Oftentimes they’re either bad singers or they just pick bad songs to sing,” added Jessica. “Mostly people just come here for the food and the milkshakes, or they come here to go bowling.”

Warren smiled brightly. “I used to love bowling.”

Patricia hid her astonishment as best she could. Since she had first met him earlier that day, this was the most genuine smile she’d ever seen him give.

They scanned the area briefly until they saw Rendell’s hand shoot up, inviting them over. Jessica grabbed the back of Warren’s wheelchair and the three of them made their way over to the table.

Patricia heard Warren mutter that he was thankful that it wasn’t a booth. She understood what he meant; there’d be nowhere to put his wheelchair if it were a booth. Instead it was a round table and they simply removed one of the chairs so that he could sit between her and Jessica.

After they gave their orders for milkshakes and a large pizza, they got out their rubrics for Mr. Bailey’s project. The project included writing a timeline based upon the author’s life. Also, they each had to research and paraphrase one of that author’s poems or short stories.

Patricia always hated it when she was asked to do something of the sort. Sure, she thought that Edgar Allen Poe was a good poet, but not everybody interprets a poem or story the same way. Yet, teachers seemed to think that there was a right and wrong answer to those kinds of questions.

Everyone was assigned a poem to research. Warren seemed surprised when he was given The Raven, but his bewilderment was forgotten when everyone began to question him about his experiences as the new kid.

“So, Warren,” began Rendell. “What do you think of Southside so far?”

“You’re the second person to ask me that,” said Warren dryly. “I guess I’ll adjust.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” said Rendell. “Is everything going okay for you?”

Warren blinked at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Sorry, I was just asking,” he replied with a hurt look.

“It’s okay. What would you guys say about Southside?”

Caitlyn broke in. “It has some of your usual high school drama—jocks, nerds, freaks, and such—but it’s okay.”

“Anything interesting?” asked Warren.

“We’ve been trying to form a band,” said Jessica with a shrug.

For once, it looked as if Warren showed something other than indifference when he raised one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?” he asked. “Who’s in it?”

“All of us, including Sam,” said Patricia. “I play lead guitar.”

“Rhythm guitar and lead guitar,” said Jessica.

“Five-string bass,” said Caitlyn.

“Drums and custom percussion,” said Rendell. “And Sam plays violin.”

Warren looked at each of them in turn with an expectant look. “Well, who’s the lead singer?”

Each of them bit their lip.

“Um, that’s T-B-A,” said Patricia. “I mean Sam sings, but she can’t sing and play violin at the same time.”

“What kind of music do you guys play?” asked Warren resting his chin on his fist.

“We’ve been experimenting,” replied Jessica. “Lately we’ve been playing quite a few cover songs.”

“Really? By whom?”

“No band in particular, just whatever’s on our iPods.”

“Interesting,” commented Warren with an impressed look.

“I hear that you have quite a singing voice,” said Rendell, giving Warren a hopeful look.

Warren scoffed. “Where did you hear that at?”

“Um, Patricia told me about you singing.”

Warren directed a glare at Patricia while she gave a guilty look. Just then a waiter came by with their milkshakes and their pizza.

“This is good pizza,” said Warren as he took a bite. “Spicy, too.”

“You should try their firecracker ribs,” said Patricia. When he gave her a blank look she explained. "They’re extremely spicy pork ribs with even spicier barbeque sauce.”

The five of them ate in silence for a few minutes. It might have just been her imagination, but every once in a while Patricia noticed Warren meticulously adjusting his gauntlets. Why is he so concerned about keeping his arms covered, she wondered. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt, but it didn’t matter.

Just then, the current karaoke singer ended their song. The restaurant gave polite applause as the announcer gave the next number. Patricia looked around the room for the next singer, but no one stood.

She looked again and this time her eyes fell on Warren. He looked shocked. The spotlight landed on him and Jessica, who was sitting closest to him, nudged him encouragingly. He took a deep breath and wheeled himself away from the table and towards the stage. The platform had a ramp that Warren used to wheel himself up.

The announcer asked what song he’d like to sing and he said Photograph by Nickelback. Since he couldn’t stand up, he took the microphone off of the stand and the song began.

His voice was so beautiful that everyone stopped eating to listen. Warren had the whole room caught in his spell. Every note was haunting, keeping Patricia mesmerized through the whole song.

When the song ended, the restaurant filled with applause. They chanted for an encore. This time Warren sang Maroon 5’s She Will Be Loved. Like the song before, he sang it so fluidly. However, Patricia detected a subtle amount of pain somewhere in his voice. She knew well why he would be feeling that pain. But at the same time, she suspected that it wasn’t as simple as he made it sound earlier.

The song ended to more enormous applause.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Patricia to Rendell.

“I don’t know; what are you thinking?” he answered.

Patricia rolled her eyes. “I think we just found our lead vocalist!” she shouted gleefully, though quiet enough not to disturb anyone beyond their table.

Rendell smiled excitedly. “Then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re gonna find a better singer than him,” added Jessica shaking her head.

“I agree with you guys, but there’s only one problem,” said Caitlyn frowning.

“What’s that, babe?” asked Rendell.

Caitlyn's thick eyebrows furrowed as she elbowed him. “You know I hate it when you call me that, Ren. The only problem is this: how the hell are we going to get Sam to see past his paraplegia long enough to hear him sing?”

Patricia’s face drained of color. How were they going to get Sam to see past his paraplegia?