“I think it’s mostly confusion,” one man said.

“It seems more like anger to me,” said a second.

“Yeah, I don’t know, guys. It feels too hostile to just be curiosity,” a third reasoned.

“And you all got the same things? The same kinds of questions?” a fourth, the apparent addressee of the other men’s statements, verified.

“Just look,” the first said, presumably passing something to the fourth for examination.

“Fuck,” the fourth cursed resignedly.

“There’s clearly no more putting it off,” the second pointed out.

“I don’t think it’s time, we’re not ready,” the fourth said, his voice seeming far away and then close and then far away again, as if he were pacing.

“It’s not a matter of preparedness. There’ll never be a time that feels right, but it’s better to try to get ahead of this than to be behind it and trying to play catch-up.” This was the second man and he sighed deeply after his mini-speech.

“I just… shit,” the fourth swore again. “This is probably not gonna go well.”

“It’s better than just going on like nothing’s happening, that’ll only leave room for it to get worse,” a fifth voice said.

“What should I even say?” the fourth asked in a silent acceptance of what was coming.

“Wait,” the first interrupted, “there’s one important voice that hasn’t been heard on the matter yet.”

“So, we wait?” the fourth responded.

“Just until she wakes up,” the first continued. There must’ve been some wordless signal they all gave as they agreed to this idea and it was silent once again.

---

Rowan woke from her strange dream moments later, trying to understand what little she could remember. Nothing made sense and she decided to let it go after a minute of confusion.
Rowan felt rather than heard the lull that seemed to swallow the inhabitants of the bus. Ignoring her instinct to feign sleep and avoid whatever issue lay waiting for her outside of her bunk, she forced herself to awake. Heading to the bathroom, tip-toeing so as to avoid drawing unwanted attention, Rowan listened to the hum of the TV, it was just above undetectable in volume. She closed herself in the cupboard-sized bathroom and tried to block out all sense that told her to panic. Calmly, she did what she had to, knowing she really wasn’t supposed to be alone long. Soon enough Kellin would come to check on her and find her missing and a grief-stricken father wasn’t something Rowan was inclined to encounter.

Cautiously, she crept her way to Bunk Alley and then to the living room, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly to catch their attention. “Morning,” she garbled in a fake-sleepy voice, pulling all eyes to herself. It was unsettling enough to have others’ thoughts trained solely on her, but there was something particularly off about the look in their eyes. It was somewhere between the pitying look one unintentionally gives to an orphan and the vigilant look one wears when creeping across a land-mine.

“Good morning,” Kellin replied softly, watching her closely as if she’d spontaneously explode at any given moment. “What would like for breakfast?”

“Cereal’s fine,” Rowan responded, trying for a smile to quiet whatever concern Kellin seemed to be harboring on her behalf.

Standing and making his way to the kitchenette, Kellin grinned back, though his was also forced. Rowan noticed a disturbing trend amidst the guys while Kellin poured her a bowl of Cheerios: each time one of them would glance at their phones they would sigh resignedly before leaving whatever they’d seen un-replied to, dropping the phone back to their laps. She began to wonder what exactly they were so worried about, but decided it wasn’t her business.

Mid-way though her breakfast, Kellin cleared his throat to get Rowan’s attention. “Hey, um, Ro?”

“Hm?” she hummed around a mouthful of cereal, looking up to find Kellin sitting across from her in the ‘dining’ booth.

“Are you, uh, planning to hang with the girls again?” he asked, but it wasn’t quite as composed as he hoped it to be.

“Maybe for a bit, but I want to see your show again,“ she replied, choosing to ignore his ill-concealed consternation until she had some reason to believe it concerned her. She had enough on her plate, she didn’t need to fall back in her old habits of unrelenting and ever-present terror at every turn—often without sensible reason—on top of it all.

The guys all exchanged surreptitiously apprehensive looks, apparently thinking Rowan wouldn’t notice, though she clearly saw them from the corner of her eye. Believing with each passing moment that her cause for distress was just, Rowan contemplated how to get the answers she needed. But Kellin interrupted first, “Okay, but we need to talk first.”

“…About?” Rowan pressed anxiously, her nearly-empty bowl forgotten.

“There’s been this… thing,” Kellin began, his vagueness only procured mounting disquiet within his daughter.

“A… thing?” she urged, wanting desperately for him to get on with whatever he had to say. Rowan was reminded of the memory of losing her first tooth. Her mother told her to just tie the tooth to a doorknob and yank it out, one minute of tough pain rather than days of drug-out discomfort, but Rowan resisted. She preferred to let it occur naturally, she told her mother, but truthfully the girl had endured so much agony already that she couldn’t fathom putting herself through any more of it by her own hands. So she’d let the days pass, puffing air in and out of her mouth to make it wiggle or poking it loose with her tongue, and the pain persisted each time that the thread holding her tooth to her gums became one bit thinner. In retrospect, Rowan should have listened to her mother that once, she grew up so accustomed to pain that it really was easier to take one sharp hit than softened but prolonged blows over time.

“You’re not allowed on social media, right?” Jesse jumped in, seeing how difficult this was becoming for his friend.

Rowan nodded, “Yeah, as part of the program. Right, Kell?” He nodded in reply. “Why?”

“Well, it seems some fans have recognized you,” Jesse plowed on, hoping that taking this conversation like ripping off a band-aid would lessen the discomfort.

“Recognized me?” Rowan repeated, distantly thinking that she really should have expected this. She’d known it might happen some day, but she hardly felt yet prepared.

“Fans have seen you with Vic, Jenna, on stage with All Time Low… with– well, with Kell and all of us…” Jesse sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be as simple as tapping out a tweet to introduce her. He knew she wouldn’t fair well with extra attention drawn to her. She struggled enough as it was, and that wasn’t with millions of fans ogling at her.

“Well, fuck…” she breathed, also realizing how weighty this new information felt when placed upon her already burdened shoulders. “What– I mean… What’s next?”

“To be honest, it’s not going to be easy no matter what,” Jesse informed her, wincing at the forlorn look his words cast over Rowan’s features. He wished he had better news, that there was a magical cure-all to being adopted by a famous rock star, but Rowan was old enough to deserve the unadulterated truth. Still, his desire to sugar-coat the tragedy at least a bit drove him to say, “but this could also be a good thing.”

“How so?” Rowan tested, trying not to let even a flicker of hope light her eyes for fear it would be blown out with the breath it took Jesse to answer. But Jesse didn’t answer her, in fact he looked at a loss to reply. Apparently he was making this up on the spot, no idea of how this could be a positive turn in her life. But Kellin did.

Swallowing thickly, Kellin forced his lips to torque at the corners into what he hope resembled a smile again. He then took a deep breath and began to spout off something that seemed to have been weighing his chest down for some time. “Rowan, the reason everyone around here, the bands and crew I mean, already seems to know your name is because I can’t shut up about you. I am insanely proud of you, of your achievements and of the fact that you agreed to be part of my family. I love to tell people how, during one of the darkest times of my life, I found this mysterious light. How I had been contemplating how to end my career because I just couldn’t find the spark in myself anymore. How I’d abandoned my religion because I felt it had abandoned me. How the only reason I hadn’t ended my own life was because I knew I needed to support my wife and children. But mostly how the answer to all the things I’d been too scared to ask for arrived by way of this unique kid I met in an uncomfortable waiting room chair. And how she brought back a sense of hope in me that I’d resigned to live without. And she made me remember how it felt to be twenty and trying to make a name for myself and seeing nothing but possibilities ahead. And how she gave me the strength to be there for my wife in all the ways I needed to be, and to comfort my baby daughter when her mother was too sick to get out of bed. And, God, Rowan, you made me laugh again. You made me… me again. I can’t get enough of the pride and gratitude that telling that story gives me. I love answering yes when a store-clerk asks me if you’re my daughter. I love hearing you grumble and groan and ask for more sleep every morning. I love being the person you can come to when you start to feel too consumed by your past. I love being your present, and being able to look at you and see the outrageously fantastic future you’ll have. I love the idea that I’ll be there to see you through that, to see you grow and change and learn and trust and realize just how amazing you are. I am honored to be your dad, and I’m thrilled that I’ll get to tell the whole world about you someday. I know this might not be easy, that it’s not what you agreed to when you accepted me as your dad, but I think it’ll be worth it. And I, for one, will be overjoyed to tell as many people as I can about you.”

It was quiet as Rowan and the band took that in. It wasn’t a simple speech to swallow, it was slow to digest. After moments of silence, Rowan took a shuddering breath.

“Okay, how do we do this then?” There was a distinctly stubborn and determined set to her shoulders. She was not the frightened child who’d clung to a stranger in the bathroom of the hospital cafeteria, she was a girl much tougher, much stronger. Kellin smiled a more genuine grin, his classic lop-sided smirk, and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Wait,” she halted, making Kellin look back up at her quizzically, “what are they saying? What do they know?”

“No one’s commented on it so they don’t really know anything concrete,” Jesse said, resuming his role in the conversation, “but they’re asking if you’re a relative of a band member or a friend or something.”

The answer was honest, but Rowan could sense that there were things left unsaid. She assumed, based on the research she’d done before embarking on this tour, that not all of the gossip was so clean-cut. She knew there would be lies woven into the truth, accusations slipped in the cracks of the facts, judgments sandwiched between every line. “What else? I know the internet isn’t always a family-friendly place. What else are they saying?”

No one seemed inclined to respond so Rowan took matters into her own hands, snatching Kellin’s phone from his hands and clicking on ‘Instagram’, an application she knew to be of the social-media type. Scrolling through pictures on the open tag—#UndesirableNo1—and swatting away Kellin’s attempts to reclaim his cell, Rowan found one of interest. She was sitting on the ground, Vic kneeling beside her, Mike hovering over her, while Jaime and Tony hung nearby. The guys all wore expressions of concern and Rowan was still green, having just been sick. The caption read: ‘@PTV_SWS_BVB_Luv: Damsel in Distress: If this little girl can get the whole band fawning after her bc she puked, I’ll throw myself in front of a fuqing bus! lol. #MysteryGroupie #UndesirableNo1 #IWantVicToCareIfICry #Ugh #fml’ Rowan shook her head, reading the comments below. Such as: ‘@Punk2DaMaxxx02: I have REAL issues, I’m actually struggling with things, but you don't see me crying to a world famous band who probably couldn’t care less becuz of a little upset stomach.’ ‘@DestructionHateClassicRock: Yah srsly @PTV_SWS_BVB_Luv can I join u??? lol’ ‘@KatieKassieKillerKitty: Who is #UndesirableNo1 tho? Is she someone’s sister? Or someone’s secret kid?? Can anyone answer me???’

Leaving that image, Rowan sifted through a cache of discretely obtained photographs of herself with various employees of the tour. She saw a picture of her riding shotgun in the golf cart, laughing at something Sierra, the driver, said. It was taken from a distance and blown-up, the caption here asking if she was perhaps related to the Lyman family. The comments, she found, only got more crude and cruel as she scrolled back, shocking her with some of the harsh language that absolute strangers were pinning to a girl they didn’t even know. Rowan passed yet another candid shot, this one a collage of pictures of Rowan standing side-stage for various bands, hanging amongst a myriad of other band members and friends. This one called her a groupie, claiming that she must be sleeping with varying bands as she wasn’t wearing the proper t-shirt for whatever band she was watching in each picture. Rowan sighed, running a hand through her tangled bed-head.

The climax of the horror came when Rowan found an entire account dedicated to pictures of herself. She was captured riding on Mike’s back, sitting in the back of the Pierce The Veil signing, shaking hands with Austin and Aaron from side-stage, having her hair playfully yanked by CC as she laughed, being introduced to Beau by Lights whilst balancing Rocket on her hip, returning a hug from Tay before the woman went on stage, head-banging to Bad Girls Club along with Ash, Justin Hills ‘tagging’ her on stage with All Time Low… Most of the images were of Kellin and Rowan, often holding hands, many of which showed the fond expression with which he gazed at his adoptive daughter. There seemed to be too many for only having been on tour a few days, but it was apparently a collaborative effort as the photographer of each image was credited in its caption.

As she pored over photo after creepy photo, Rowan struggled to remain collected, wanting nothing more than to shiver and throw the phone as fas away as possible and hide in her bunk for the rest of her life. Yet, another part of her brain couldn’t close the app. Like watching a grisly car crash unfold, she was unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene playing out. Therefore when Kellin pried the phone from her clenched hands she was accosted with an odd feeling of mingled disappointment and relief.

“That’s enough,” Kellin said, locking his phone and placing in on the table, “what they’re saying doesn’t matter. I know how fantastic you are, the guys know how fantastic you are.” Kellin looked around the room and received vigorous nods in response.

“It doesn’t matter?!” Rowan parroted, her heart hammering inside her ribs. “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered sourly, willing her tears to stay coating her already glassy-eyes. “They’re calling me a whore, a wanna-be, a user. I don't know about you but I don’t particularly like complete strangers pretending they know me by way of calling me names! Who the hell raised these people?! Who made them think it was okay to pick on someone you don’t even remotely know? What made them think it’s alright to pry into a stranger’s life only to obliterate any shed of self-worth they have?! Why would they–”

This time Jack interrupted, standing up and ambling toward the table, choosing to stand to the side as he spoke. “We all get it. Trust me, every single person on this bus understands what it’s like to get hate. Every time we post a picture of something we’re excited to share with the fans we get bombarded by vile things from haters. Every time one of us gets into a relationship we can’t simply get to know someone before we have to warn them that they might get their personal life strung out for the world to peck at. We’ve all lost relationships and friendships to the callousness of the internet. Each one of us have been called satanic, given filthy looks in Walmart because of the fact that we have tattoos and are in a band. We’ve had people use us, manipulate us, stab us in the back, and why? For no other reason than because we are pursuing something we love to do, because we say things that others are too afraid to say, because we don’t sit behind desks and hate our lives everyday.”

Rowan was shell-shocked, feeling beyond ashamed of her outburst. She’d behaved as if she were the only person who could possibly understand how this situation felt when in actuality she was in a room full of some of the only people who could in fact relate. Chagrined, Rowan took a breath to clam herself, “You’re right.” The room at large seemed to release a collective sigh of relief as they realized that she didn’t plan on battling them further. “I’m sorry. I just… I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I feel so exposed, so…” But really she couldn’t find the words to explain how she felt. She was still adjusting to voicing whatever concerns she had, rather than piling them down inside herself until she was chock-full of hate and fear and pain and was forced to take it out on her own skin.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Jack assured, “like I said, we get it. You’re not alone on this.”

Rowan heard him distantly but still wasn’t sure what that meant. Sure, she wasn’t the only person to go through this, but that didn’t help her to know how to handle how it made her feel. She was still her own person, she still struggled with this invasion of privacy and attack on her morals. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself away and find some jagged edge of glass to release her frustrations, at least then she could breathe easier and think more sensibly. She didn’t process well with all of these unfamiliar emotions swimming in her vision in the form of salty tears. Blinking the blur away, Rowan saw Kellin’s caring expression and immediately felt even more guilt for having considered that option. She couldn’t do that to him, he had enough to deal with as it was, her being overdramatic and selfish didn’t need to be added.

“I still don’t know what to do about it, though,” she reasoned in a watery voice, tears still threatening to fall.

“Well, the only feasible option is to make a statement. We can do a TwitLonger, or a YouNow, or just post pictures on Insta,” Kellin offered. “I know none of them seem like a good choice, but right now it’s about choosing the lesser of equal evils rather than finding the ‘easy’ way.”

“What do you suggest?” she asked the guys, her eyes scanning all of their faces for some type of guidance.

“At this point, the faster we can spread the truth and positive information the better,” Gabe cut in, “so I think we should attack from all fronts.”

“Meaning, what? We post everywhere at once?” Rowan confirmed, receiving a nod of consent from her make-shift family. Pulling another slow breath through her teeth, Rowan nodded back, “Okay. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“I’ve typed up a TwitLonger,” Kellin said, passing her his phone once again, this time already opened to the message he referenced. “Tell me if there’s thing you want to add or prefer that I don’t say. I’m not going to let anyone say anything that you wouldn’t be comfortable with, okay?”

Rowan nodded and began reading the typed out speech, taking her time to ensure she processed every word.

This morning it’s been brought to my attention, as well as the rest of sws’s and our friend’s, that you guys have some unanswered questions about a girl you’ve noticed hanging out with us. I’ve seen a lot of confusion, so I’m here to try to clear that up. For those of you who don’t yet know what I’m talking about, you will…
The girl you’ve seen with various members of sws, and a bunch of our friends, is a new addition to the family. Her name is Rowan Quinn. Yes, Quinn. She’s my daughter. And no, she’s not from a previous relationship. She isn’t my biological daughter or Kate’s. Katelynne and I are in the process of adopting Rowan permanently, but she’s already a part of our family, and she’s already had her name changed ;)
I saw Rowan the first time in April. It was the near the end of the last tour and I was waiting in the hospital for my wife to come out of her first chemo session. Yes, chemo. Katelynne is currently battling stage three breast cancer. Her doctor’s are thrilled with her progress and say she should make a full recovery. As part of the process, though, she might have to have some surgeries and medications that will prevent her from being able to have more children. Which was never in our plan. We were already discussing the possibility of adoption but it was a far-off concept. Until that day. I met this enigma of a girl who wiggled her way into my thoughts and refused to leave. So, when I saw her again three weeks later, we talked.
It’s not my place to tell you private happenings and feelings that Rowan was forced to face through that difficult time. I will, however, tell you that even though things were crazily hard around her Rowan still captivated my attention entirely. She is thirteen, already having graduated hs and college, she so smart, she’s funny, she is fluent in sarcasm, she is wise and kind and caring and has her own very special place in my heart. Copeland loves her, she’s already deemed Ro her ‘big sissy’ and has nicknames for her. Rowan is so doting when it comes to her ‘baby sis’ too. I ship their sisterly-love :P
Rowan has not had life easy, she is strong and brave in ways I can’t even imagine. I am proud every day to be her dad, even if it’s a new status I’m taking on in her life. She’s one hell of a kid and I know that anyone who takes a minute to get to know her can see that.
You guys have supported me and the band for years. You’ve been from skyrocketing the views of every music video release to leaving well-wishes for my marriage when we posted to let you guys know. I’m sorry if any fans have felt lied to pr betrayed, but we need to wait for the right time to announce this. Rowan’s not going anywhere, she’ll be part of my life for all the years I have left to live, and I hope I can say the same for each one of you. I love you all and hope you can join me in welcoming Rowan Quinn to the Sleeping With Sirens family.
xx<3xx<3xx<3xx<3xx<3xx Kell

Rowan drank the words in like water to parched lips, wishing to absorb Kellin’s affection through every word in hopes of quieting her own worries. Silently, she passed the phone back to Kellin, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he intoned, scanning over the words he’d typed again, as if to make sure she hadn’t read anything upsetting. Then, his eyes refocused to her, probing her without words to ensure this was truly bearable for his daughter. “Since I’d like to help them along toward being more positive about this, I attached a couple of pictures, alright?”

Rowan nodded again, not trusting her voice to come out even through her blossoming panic. Her palms were slick with sweat, causing her to rub them vehemently against her PJ pants.

“We’re all retweeting that,” Jesse said aloud, surely for Rowan’s benefit though she had no clue what that term even meant. “And adding our own stuff too,” he tacked on, “but we won’t go more in depth than that, more than you’re comfortable with, we just want to spread the positive word fast.”

“Is it okay if I post that picture we took the other day for Kate on Instagram?” Kellin asked, seeming to expect Rowan to snap at him in the contrary. But at this point she was in over her head on all of this and was solely trusting them to not do anything too outrageous. “Out side of us, there are a few other artists who’ve received questions and, if it’s alright, want to answer their fans.”

Rowan gulped, “Like who?”

“Pierce The Veil, All Time Low, most of the girls…” Kellin explained, attempting to gauge Rowan’s reactions to each new bit of information in hopes that all would go over well. She seemed to be taking everything in much better than he had anticipated, resulting in another surge of pride coursing through him. Still, he didn’t want to push her too far, he knew she could only handle so much. “C’mere,” Kellin said, setting his phone down to open his arms to Rowan. She seemed to struggle with whether or not she should stand but eventually decided to cave to his offer, crossing the distance to him and relaxing into his embrace. She sighed deeply, letting his heartbeat flood her thoughts. “It’ll be okay,” Kellin told her in a private promise, “you’ll see.”

“I hope so,” she whispered back, knowing the rest of the guys could still hear her.

---

The morning felt strange, the very air wrapping around them seemed to be different. Perhaps it was that Rowan felt, as she had told the guys, exposed. She couldn’t find a more appropriate word to describe the sensation. She was still on ‘Red-Patch-of-Courage-leave’ and chose to remain as hidden as she could. Despite her desire to enjoy this tour to its fullest, she couldn’t bring herself to brave the masses that waited outside of the backstage gates. They knew her name now, her face, her connection. They knew her weaknesses, she felt as if she’d just been pushed from a building and told to fly without anything to aid her. Her fear mounted as passersby smiled, yet more people seemed to know of her even amidst the crew.

Rowan’s spindly limbs seemed insufficient in supporting her weight, she’d had to sit down many times throughout the short morning so far. She began to worry, privately, if this was her body finally collapsing beneath her. Like the corroded structure of a termite-feasted building that once was solid and grand, was her fragility finally falling into irreversible disrepair? As she followed Kellin, mere inches between them with her head bowed low, toward the stage where Tonight Alive—the first band of the day—was about to play, she decided she needed to mention this to him. She knew that admitting vulnerability was an embarrassment but she felt desperately drained and was struggling to remain on her unsteady feet. They came to a stop and climbed the small set of stairs to stand side-stage, Rowan slipping a clammy hand into her father’s strong one as she feared her legs would give way beneath her. He turned to give her a reassuring grin and she attempted to return it. The resulting expression was one of forced peace, resembling a grimace, and Kellin pulled her to the side, ushering her toward a stray box on which she perched.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, frowning deeper as she shook her head, no. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m– I don’t know, I feel really tired. Like, to the point that you’re not all that clear right now,” she told him, her glassy eyes darting around to ensure no one could overhear them. As much as she had advanced in her ability to be open with Kellin, she was still hesitant about others. Moreover, she knew now that all eyes were on her, anyone who’d seen the online-uproar in her name would be watching Rowan to see how it affected her. It was a subconscious act, whether we mean to or not, we are all naturally curious about the human brain and how it reacts to odd circumstances.

Kellin sighed, running his free hand down the back of her hair comfortingly. “I was hoping the side effects wouldn’t show up so soon or so strong,” he mumbled, “it’s from the medication. There are some possible side effects. Lethargy and fatigue, occasional physical weakness, headaches and migraines, nausea, dizziness, impaired judgement, memory loss, slurred speech, confusion, disorientation, clumsiness, blurred vision, increased appetite, dry mouth, insomnia, constipation, agitation and irritability, new or worsening depression, restlessness, tics, racing heartbeat–”

“–Tatt,” Rowan interrupted, his sped-up prattling making her exhaustion seem to double. They both lapsed into uneasy silence, Kellin realizing he’d said too much while Rowan mulled over the impossibly long list of side effects she’d honestly forgotten to consider. Upon finding out she’d been lied to, the moments of learning about her new medication were fuzzy at best. She’d tried to block that memory from her mind entirely, but in her stubborn silence that day Rowan noticed that she’d forgotten to ask what the negatives were to this ‘miracle medicine’. She thought back on her body’s weakened state over the past week and a half, catching on to a dangerous trend as her worst moments were all directly connected to one of the possible side effects she hadn’t known to look for. Granted, most of them were symptoms she commonly experienced with or without the meds, but it still concerned her. Deciding that was a thought for another time, Rowan leaned heavily against Kellin’s hip.

“Sorry,” he muttered, just above the volume of Jenna’s welcome speech as she took to the stage. Rowan nodded against him, knowing he’d understand her wordless reply and they watched Tonight Alive command the early-comers. Once the set wrapped up, Jenna said her thank-yous to the crowd and bounded over to Kellin and Rowan.

“Hey, chickie,” she gushed, giving Rowan a quick squeeze where the girl sat before doing the same to Kellin, “hey, daddy-oh. Hey, Ro,” Jenna spun back on Rowan with a grin, “whattaya say to gettin’ out of here today?”

Rowan glanced at Kellin quizzically, before turning the same look to Jenna, “Huh?”

“The girls and I wanted to take you off-campus for the afternoon, I have a signing this evening and Ash and Tay’ll have to be in and out, but there’s a mall a little ways away that we thought we’d check out. If you don’t mind hanging out with us,” she added, still beaming infectiously at Rowan. It was hard to think with Jenna’s warm, bubbly personality shining on you at full-blast.

“Kell?” Rowan checked, but he nodded approvingly, though she could sense his hesitation since hearing about her recent lethargy. “I’ll text you,” she assured him, “and I’ll be back in time for your set, you guys are last up, right?” despite her exhaustion Rowan quite liked the idea of stepping away from the prying eyes of fans and coworkers alike.

“I know you will, and yeah,” he told her, helping Rowan to her feet and giving her a hug of his own. Jenna had asked him ahead of time if this was alright but after hearing that Rowan and been struggling more than she’d let on, he was more reluctant to allow her to go. No matter what she said, Kellin knew Rowan would never admit to the girls that she needed to sit down for a spell or wanted to come back to the bus. She’d instead push herself past the point of safety all for the sake of making others’ lives easier. Even so, he knew this could also be good for her. He knew she needed space, she was a teenage girl after all, though that was easy to forget for the fact that she carried herself like an adult yet looked like a small child. He had to remind himself that she was still just a teenage girl, one that had been through enough strife to last a lifetime and deserved to have it easy forever more.

“Love you,” she muttered to him as they hugged.

Kellin had heard it before, but it was still something he was adjusting to. The simple saying shot straight through his chest and into his heart, the cavalierness of it making it hard for him to release her. “I love you too,” he told her. Finally he forced himself to let go, watching with a smile as Rowan hurried behind Jenna to meet up with the others.

Rowan glanced over her shoulder only twice as she walked away, something she was quite proud of. It was a task, she’d had to will her eyes to stay forward and not shoot longing and fearful looks back to her father with every step they took. She wanted this, but at the same time she wanted nothing more than to sit in the back lounge of the bus on Kellin’s lap and watch a movie. She could feel glares, both benign and nefarious in intent, and again had to compel herself to keep her sights set on Jenna. Both times Rowan cheated had shown her Kellin was still looking her way as well. She quite liked that. She liked to know that he was as attached to her as she was to him, it made her feel less embarrassed. She knew that their bond was just a forceful one, a powerful magnet that kept them in close orbit of one another, she wasn’t simply a needy, whiny child.

Jenna used her pass to allow them out the back gate, Rowan right at her heels, and they received a ride to the mall from one of the roadies. It was nice to see the outside world, Rowan decided. She gazed out of the windows as if it’d be the last time she saw the sun before being thrown into a cave. Jenna kept up polite conversation during the ride, kindly avoiding the topic of social media, until they arrived and met up with the other girls. As Jenna had mentioned, Ash and Tay would meet them in a while, but everyone else was waiting by the mall’s front doors.

Rowan felt the exhaustion and weakness trembling in her limbs, forcing her to trip over her own feet often as well as lag behind. The hellos were exchanged on the fly, knowing they had a deadline to be back by, and they rushed right into one store after the next. Rowan was reminded of shopping with Kate back home, only this time the people around her didn’t know a thing about her past. Only that she was adopted after losing her mother to cancer. This brought about the struggle of avoiding many of their clothing suggestions that might reveal too many scars. She’d made up just about every lie in the book so far from, “orange’s not my color,” to “I’m allergic to that fabric.” At lunch, she’d decided on a slice of pizza and joined the others in the food court. The rest of the girls were exhausted from hauling their bags around but Rowan had only bought a pack of new earrings and a handful of beanies. She was zapped, needing to sit down what seemed like every five minutes.

Rowan felt Jenna’s eyes on her and suddenly wondered how much she and Kellin discussed privately prior to his approval of this little outing. Rowan hoped Jenna hadn’t been told too much, she was only that day adjusting to strangers knowing her name and face and her place in Kellin’s life, she wasn’t sure how much more she could handle having printed across her forehead. Luckily Jenna smiled at Rowan, having been caught watching the way the younger girl picked idly at her crust, before replying to something Tay had said.

“Yeah, I totally agree,” Jenna told her friend, nodding before turning back to Rowan, this time an inquisitive spark to her eyes. “What do you think, Ro?”

“Um,” Rowan stalled, trying to figure out what they’d been discussing. She’d been too busy trying to tear her pizza into almost inedible shreds to hear the conversation the others had partaken in. “Sorry, I was zoning. What was it?”

Tay smiled kindly at Rowan’s soft, hesitant tone and tried to reassure the girl with her expression as much as her inflection. “I was just saying how awesome I think you’d look in those high-waisted cutoffs like Lights got.”

Rowan’s pulse sped up for what might be the billionth time that day, but she fought to remain composed. “Oh, no way I could pull them off like Lights,” she reasoned, receiving a grin of chagrined gratitude from the model-in-question.

“You aren’t supposed to look like Lights in them,” Ash shrugged, “you’re supposed to look like an extra-badass-bangable-you.”

Rowan laughed a bit too hard, trying to push the conversation away from herself in any way possible. “Don’t let Kell hear you say that,” she joked.

Everyone laughed in agreement but once it died down Ryan peered at Rowan a bit too interestedly for the girl’s comfort. “Seriously though,” she pressed, “what gives? You’ve barely tried on anything all day.”

Rowan had been silently testing out various imagined excuses and their following conversations throughout the shopping trip, mentally preparing herself for this exact conversation whilst also hoping against hope that it wouldn’t happen at all. She’d sifted through many possible explanations but now that she needed them she seemed to draw a blank on all the ones she’d decided were possibly acceptable. Stammering and stuttering, Rowan blurted, “It’s embarrassing.”

A sea of crinkled foreheads and knitted brows met this exclamation and Allie frowned, “How so?”

“Kate, Katelynne– uh… Kellin’s wife– uh… my adoptive mom… she… won’t let me– uh, won’t let me shave my legs?” Rowan instantly began berating herself for such a foolish reply. She was an absolute, utter ignoramus.

Lights grinned at her, letting Rocket gnaw on her teething-ring as she said, “Oh, that’s nothing!”
“Yeah, you scared us silly!” Tay added, also smiling.

“Oh,” Rowan breathed, thanking whatever meager amount of good karma she had that they’d bought it. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t want me to hurt myself on a razor or anything.”

That was technically true, although the context mightn’t be wholly honest.

Sierra grinned, “So it’s not the hair, it’s just the razors she doesn’t like?” Getting a nod from Rowan, she went on. “My mom was the same up until I was, like, sixteen! I’ve always been super clumsy. Anyway, our compromise was that I’d use Nair. I mean, it wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough. There’s a little drug store in here somewhere, we can get you some before we go!”

Rowan wanted to crawl under a rock. Of course there’d be some logical way around such an idiotic obstacle. Of course. She tried to paste on a wide beam of relief. “Really? Yeah, that’d be… awesome,” she told them weakly.

“Good,” Sabrina smirked conspiratorially, “because we got you a pair of those shorts anyway.”
Again, Rowan attempted to act as though this was an exciting gift, whereas in reality she was struggling not to break into a panic attack. “You didn’t have to… but, thank you.”

Rowan shot Sabrina what she hoped was a gracious look but wasn’t sure if it came across. She managed to force down only half of the pizza slice, mentally tabulating the calories, fat, protein, and carbs—something she’d picked up from Kellin who always had a Calorie King book handy to calculate whether or not Rowan had met the required goal for the meal—but realized her squirming stomach made her set aim an impossible feat. Settling for drinking gulps of her soda to hopefully fill the gaps, she followed the girls as they got back to work. It was nearing six-thirty, the time when the group had decided to return to the Fairpark where the tour was set up, but they quickly stopped in the mom-and-pops drug store to purchase Nair as well as various other things Rowan needed.

Upon returning to the lot where the buses were parked, they said their goodbyes for the time being (Lights needed to give Rocket dinner and put her to bed; Ash had a signing; Ryan, Allie, and Sabrina wanted to see their boyfriends’ show which was just starting; Tay’s band was having Movie Night after they’d played early that morning) with only Jenna remaining to return Rowan ‘home’. Jenna threw her arm around Rowan’s shoulder as they made their way to Sleeping With Sirens’ bus, helping her carry the bags they both struggled with.

“Didja have fun, Ro?” Jenna asked, seeming genuinely concerned about her answer.

Rowan, despite fighting off nausea caused by the vertiginous outing, coaxed her lips into another feigned smile. “Definitely.” Truthfully she had enjoyed spending time away from the hustle and bustle of the tour, especially with the girls she’d quickly grown fond of, but as she was also still feeling quite drained she couldn’t call it a complete success. Rowan was therefore relieved at first sight of the bus, looking forward to sitting down for more than a moment and hoping to rest before watching the guys perform. But then she remembered the forlorn looks she received at the hands of her ‘uncles’ since their morning catastrophe, realizing with dread that more hushed conversations and furtive looks her way waited on the other side of that door. “Thank you,” she gushed to Jenna as they approached the door in question, wanting the woman to understand just how much her attempts at making Rowan feel ‘normal’ were appreciated.

“Honestly,” Jenna responded heartily, looking Rowan directly in the eyes as they fell still beside the bus, “it’s my pleasure.”

Rowan accepted Jenna’s hug at first quite stiffly, then melted into the unfamiliar embrace. Slowly, very slowly, Rowan could feel herself morphing, changing, transforming into a girl who could accept hugs and smile almost without force and not feel as if every look shot her way was one of disdain. Ever so slowly, she was becoming someone she didn’t have to look in the mirror and hate.

Kellin answered quickly after Jenna’s knock, looking himself a mixture of pleased and relieved to see his daughter in one piece and with no new bedazzled holes in her ears or face. He chuckled at the bags breaking off the girls’ arms and hurried to help lighten the load. He thanked Jenna profusely, guiding Rowan back inside, and mentioned that he hoped to see her side-stage at their show.

After Jenna left Rowan felt the air surrounding her hush to a dull murmur. Looks seemed guarded, words worried, and grins grating. She turned to Kellin with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “Is it against the rules for me to be alone outside for a while?”

---

Rowan never thought of herself as lofty, flakey, or aloof. She preferred to think of herself as level-headed, present, and grounded. She therefore felt like an absolutely ridiculous child sitting atop a vacant skate ramp, a pencil in hand but unable to draw anything as her full attention was on the metamorphosis of a particularly fluffy cloud that glided through the sky above her.

Alone, she contemplated the events of the day so far. It was just bordering on twilight and the dwindling level of light outside brought solace to the girl. After a day so exhausting, she found comfort in the waning sun, reminded of the dimmed glow that lit up the spacious living room of her home with the Quinn’s. There were only two bands left to play, one on each Main Stage, and she could hear the music as well as feel it thrumming in her bones. Rowan wasn’t foolish enough to think she was actually unaccompanied, she knew there had to be some security guard or Roadie loitering close enough to see her and radio her father updates on her whereabouts. Even so, the illusion of being alone added to her current sense of security.

All too soon, the sound of wheels scratching against the ramp below broke Rowan from her reverie. She had no desire whatsoever to raise her head, equally uninterested in the possibility of being recognized as she was in the probability of recognizing who was sent to fetch her at Kellin’s request. Then again, would her father know anyone who skates? So it must be a stranger below. Nevertheless, Rowan’s eyes remained glued to the empty page on her lap. She tried making a few abstract charcoal scribbles, an attempt to jog her seemingly missing sense of creativity, but it only resulted in more senseless doodles. It was still a good distraction from whoever was disturbing her peace by kicking around uselessly on their skateboard.

Further disrupting Rowan, she sensed the skater’s presence as they rode their board to the top of the ramp before tripping and falling, their board dropping back to the center of the ramp unmanned. “Fuck,” its owner muttered, dropping to sit at the other end of the ramp’s top, presumably examining and nursing their injury.

Rowan saw the board out of the corner of her eye, swinging back and forth as it wore off its inertia, and stifled a small giggle.

“Think it’s funny, Van Gogh?” the voice asked, clearly coming from a teenager with a dry sense of humor and, based on the low pitch, Rowan guessed it to be a boy.

She shook her head dismissively, hoping either her nonchalance or his own embarrassment at failing to master the simple trick would drive the boy to leave. More than anything, Rowan just wanted to sit in silent solitude right then.

“So you like to laugh at people getting hurt, even if you don’t find it funny?” the boy pressed, now with a hint of wry amusement. Rowan simply shrugged, just as distant, and chewed the eraser of her pencil absentmindedly. “You mute?” he went on, not waiting for her answer before plowing through. “Because there’s this girl at my school, she can’t talk. They say it’s not medical, more phycological, but she still has a translator and stuff. She can hear, just won’t respond. I’ve picked up a few things from her, I bet I could understand if you’d sign me your name or something.”

Rowan peeked through her curtain of curls, seeing the silhouette of the boy against the setting sun, his shadowy form seeming to ooze a beautiful orange-pink. She raised one hand in his view, starting with the only sign-language she knew… the one-finger salute.

“Hey,” the guy laughed, “I definitely know that one!”

Rowan couldn’t keep that laugh to herself, shaking her head again at his humor but refusing to respond much more.

“That’s cool. Maybe I can guess it,” he replied to her obvious disregard. “Um… Sarah?” Rowan scoffed. “Okay, Jessica?” She flipped him off again. “Fine, those are too generic for a girl like you anyway, right?” Rowan bit her lip to hide a smirk, just shrugging. “So, it’s something unique? I can dig. What about Delaney? Or Hope? Or Sadie? Or Vivian?” Receiving only shakes of the head, he paused. “Were your parents lit-fanatics? Are you Anaïs? Or Prudence? Or–”

“Do you actually know anyone your age named Prudence?” she interrupted, shocking the boy into silence for a moment. Then he mock-cheered.

“She speaks!” he joked, clapping. “And, yeah I do. But she’s weird and does the Times’ crossword in pen. The name totally fits.”

Rowan laughed to herself, putting on a voice of acted-offense for him, “So, because I do the crossword in pen I’m weird?”

“Shit, you do? Or, wait, is your name really Prudence? Either way, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like–” the boy stammered, but Rowan cut him off once more.

“I’m fucking with you,” she said breathlessly, still looking at the pencil she twirled in her fingers, one hand smudged with graphite while the other was rubbed raw by the eraser. “I’m not Prudence, nor do I do the crossword in pen.” The last part was said in a melancholy tone, Rowan resisted the urge to add ‘anymore’. Old memories threatened to overtake Rowan’s thoughts so, in a desperate attempt to thwart their efforts, she distracted herself by tucking her hair behind her ear. She slowly raised her eyes to meet the boy’s, finding his to be wide as he took in her features, apparently surprised that she revealed herself. “Think of trees?” she offered, hinting to her name again.

“Huh?” he mumbled, then blinked his green orbs and seemed to regain his focus. “Oh, alright… Um…” he seemed to mull over the possibilities before he looked up at her in mild panic, “Oh God, don’t tell me your parents named you Cherry? That’s like asking you to be a prostitute!”

Rowan threw a hand over her heart in false-indignation, instantly sending the boy into a back-pedaling mess. She laughed again, “I’m kidding! Geeze, lighten up!” He grinned, chuckling lightly as he gazed at her. Rowan took a minute to stare back, not feeling so embarrassed about looking as he was already openly ogling. He had tan skin and dirty blond hair, which contrasted well against his bright green orbs and startlingly white teeth. His lips were pink, darker in some places than others, apparently he chewed his lips, a nervous tick they shared. He wore a We Are The In Crowd tee over skinny jeans, his Vans sneakers might have once been royal blue but had long since faded to a shade resembling the sky just after sunrise. Needing another distraction, Rowan bit her lip before pressing on, “Is that the only guess you’ve got?”

“Not even!” he shot back, blinking again to bring himself back into the conversation. “What about… Acacia?” Rowan shook her head. “Oak…ly?” She laughed and repeated the previous action. “Willow?” Rowan replied the same, no. “Olive?”

Rowan struggled to breathe through her laughter. She knew he’d never guess her name, which only made this all the more fun for her. “Nope,” she chirruped gleefully, “although that is my cousin’s name.”

“Multiple trees in the family? You guys must have one hell of a family tree,” he joked. It was dead silent a moment before they both fell into almost unbearable fits of laughter. Dad humor, Rowan found, was her favorite kind. Taking gulps of air, Rowan’s sides ached and she felt as if she were swimming toward the sky above but trapped by some unseen force beneath the surface. Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes and gasping, Rowan caught sight of the boy doing the same. The moment their eyes met the laughter resumed in full-force. Rowan truly couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard. It was as if she was someone else, living some normal girl’s life, wearing some normal girl’s skin for the day. “S– sorry,” the boy forced out between more chuckles, grinning as the laughter slowly subsided, “I only speak in horrible puns.”

“Apparently, I only speak in riddles,” she replied, referencing the fact that the only words they’d so far exchanged revolved around her game of names. “So, you want me to just tell you?”

He gnawed his bottom lip, a grin still evident, and nodded, “I don’t think I have any more guesses.”

“Well, it’s not really fair for you to have my name and me not to have yours. So, let’s say them on three,” Rowan supplied. Off his nod, she counted down. “One, two… three– Rowan–”

“–Tanner!” he said at once, both of them still catching their breath. “Rowan, huh? I like that. Way better than Prudence.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, blushing, suddenly bashful. “I guess it’s alright.”

“So what band brings you out to the Warped Tour, Miss Rowan?” Tanner asked, smiling kindly and remaining collected and cool despite her obvious nerves.

“Uh…” How was she to answer that? Well, the way he worded his query actually allowed her to be truthful in her answer. Rowan breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing at her aching ribs as they recovered from the giggle-fit. “Sleeping With Sirens, mainly. I guess. I like a lot of the bands here actually. What about yourself, Sir Tanner?”

“Well, I bet you can’t guess,” he challenged sarcastically. Rowan pointed to his shirt and winked, making him laugh again. “Yeah, but I like a lot of others too. I love Sleeping too.”

“I assume you mean the band, not the activity? Still, I’d have to concur on both fronts,” Rowan teased, shocked to hear such carefree jokes from her own lips. Rowan had always had a sharp tongue and an impressive repertoire of sarcastic snaps and witty retorts, but with all that had been changing so rapidly in her life as of late she’d seemingly forgotten that side of herself. But here she was, exchanging verbal volleys with a boy that couldn’t be much older than she and nothing if not attractive.

“Oh, I am number one at sleeping, the activity. I’ve got gold medals for it. Not to boast or anything,” Tanner replied with effortlessly equal dryness.

“I bet I’d beat you in a nap-off any day!” Rowan responded, earning herself another laugh.

“How come I’ve never seen you around? I mean, you can’t be that much younger than me so what school do you go to?” Tanner quizzed, unaware of how terrifying such an innocuous question could be.

“Oh, uh, I’m home schooled,” Rowan replied, not sure how to explain that she was just passing through seeing as she was here with the band. “And I’m thirteen, in case you were wondering.”

“Fuck,” Tanner whistled lowly, “homeschooled? That must be awesome!” Rowan started to protest, planning to mention how disconnected it feels and how boring the weeks could get, but he went on, “And I’m fifteen, as of tomorrow, in case you were wondering.”

Rowan grinned again, catching his choice in words as another return. The ball was in her court. But for the first time in the conversation, words didn’t come easily. She wasn’t sure what to say next. “Happy birthday,” came tumbling from her lips in a lame attempt at a reply. “Tomorrow, I mean. Obviously.”

“Thanks,” was his response, not seeming offset by her clear discomfort. “Actually, most of my friends are out of town for summer break. Which sucks. And my parents are out of town for work.”

Sensing there was more to this intrusive statement, Rowan followed his lead, wondering where this was headed and if she was ready to go that way yet, “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I happen to have met this really awesome girl and I’m hoping maybe we can hang out to lift my spirits,” he told Rowan smoothly. Rowan felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

“Oh…” she breathed in disappointment, but she quickly tried to mask it with perhaps overly-forced excitement, “that’s awesome!” She could hear how fake the enthusiasm was but she also didn’t want to seem over-eager or silly to have thought he could like her. She knew better. Chagrin settled in her pretzel-twisted stomach like a boulder, squashing the butterflies that had previously been battering her insides in one swift blow. “What’s her name?”

“Guess,” he replied, apparently nonplussed at the sight of her thinly-veiled displeasure.

Rowan felt that making her guess this girl’s name was odd and a tad rude, she she shrugged in faux-disinterest, “I dunno.”

“Think of trees,” he joked.

Rowan’s mouth fell open, independent of Rowan’s command to seem unaffected. “Oh,” she said again, this time in pleased embarrassment.

“Can I have your number?” he went on, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“I actually just got it, I haven’t memorized the number yet,” she said, her cheeks still aflame, “gimmie yours?”

“Sure,” Tanner agreed, taking the phone she passed him and typing something. A moment later, his own phone dinged. “I text myself so I’ve got yours,” he answered her unasked question. “So is that a yes?”

Rowan bit her lip furiously to hide another smile, “I think so, yeah, I’ve just got to ask my dad first.”

“No problem,” he assured her, “just text me when you know?”

“Right,” she confirmed, glancing around for something else to say, she saw his board once again. “You know, you should really be embarrassed.”

Tanner’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the shaggy front of his hair, “How come?”

“That was a really simply trick,” she informed him, jerking her thumb in the direction of his board below.

“I know,” he grinned, a hint of mischievousness beneath the sugary-surface of his boy-next-door looks. “I just wanted an excuse to get your attention.”

And with that, he slid to the bottom of the ramp with ease, smirking up at her bewildered expression. “Ass hat!” Rowan shouted down to him, admiring his retreating figure.

“Talk to you later, Prudence,” he called over his shoulder, tucking his board under his arm and waving over his shoulder.

Rowan shook her head in shock and confusion, who the hell was this kid and why did he make her feel like the girl-protagonist of a cheesy young adult novel about boys? And a much more pressing question, would he live to see his fifteenth year once Kellin heard about this?

Notes

Roll-Call of Rowan's Rad Readers:
sadieluna
pinkhardstyle
Ishipkellic
everyoneneedslove

You guys are fantastic. You've been here through it all. There are a lot of things going on in my life right now, I don't want to keep boring you all with it, but I just want you to know this story is still alive and very much at the forefront of my mind. I'm sorry if it takes me a while, I hate to think that I'm making anyone upset or betraying anyone who's been loyal to Rowan and Kellin here.

Here are the links from the chapter:
Kellin's Twitlonger
Picture One Attached to Tweet
Picture Two " "
Picture Three " "
Picture Four " "
Rowan's PJs
Kellin's Insta
Vic's Insta
Rowan's Outfit for the Day

I have to give credit here to cromercrabber (from Wattpad) because I wasn't considering giving Rowan someone to crush on any time soon. But then this idea came to me and the character of Tanner began to write himself. He may be here a moment, or maybe for a while, but just know that I'm the type of person who loves a good curveball.

I hope you are all enjoying Rowan's story as she's growing and changing. What do we think of her new friend? Or the side effects of the meds? What do you think is next for our NBE Fam?

Chapter question: Who was your first crush? Do you remember their name or why you liked them? I know I do ;)

Much much love from Rowan, Kell, and I...
Until next time,
xx MM