Who's the Honey On Stage?

The crowd applauds, and a few whistles mark a job well done. The rest of Yungblood gather around Miro and hugged them, shaking a few hands and laughing heartily as they got off stage, allowing the host to start intermission before the final performer.

In one of the largest towns in Wisconsin, the youth in Milwaukee often turned to more devious methods to pass the time and earn cash. To promote a more positive and creative way to have teens pass the time, a few organizers create MKE Mic Night, designed for the poet and rapper alike. Over the years, the kids with rap dreams used this creative outlet to promote themselves, or for practice. Yungblood used this for both.

Yungblood consisted of 2 rappers, a singer, and a beatboxer.

One of the rappers was named Yung Flu, a young Puerto Rican. He spoke up first. “Yo, that shit was hot, money.”

Miro nodded and bumped fists with Flu. “Bro, I was gonna faint, dawg. That was wild! Thank Yin for beatboxing so good.”

Flu nodded, moving the long shaggy hair out of his face. He looked over to Yung Yin, the chubby beatboxer grinning ear to ear. “Aw, don’t put that on me. You spit some heat, Miro. What you think, Hendrixx?”

Yung Hendrixx gave an approving smile, with a bounce in his walk that made his long dreads sway in the wind. “It was nice Miro,” He started with a deep voice. “Give yourself more credit, Y2. Shit was sweet.”

Yin laughed, as he often did when he got compliments. “Bruh, don’t glaze me now.”

The group sat down and murmured among themselves. Miro leaned forward as he sat at the table. “Yo, y’all know who’s finna perform next?”

Hendrixx shook his head. “Nah. They don’t tell us nothing, man.”

Flu scoffed. “If you’d look at the damm website, maybe you’ll learn something.” He set down the phone, showing the list of performers.

Yin saw the last name first. “Hathor?”

The whole group looked at the name confused. Miro scrunched his face. “Hathor. And I thought Yung Flu was an ass name.”

Yungblood laughed as Flu sucked his teeth and laughed along with them. “Bruh, how many times do I have to say it? It’s because my bars are sick, get it?”

Miro smirked. “Bro. it’s ass.”

“Shut up, scarface! Don’t you got bricks to move?”

“Pfft.” Miro blew him off as the rest of them chuckled. Miro turned around to focus on the stage, the old brown wood with loose nails barely holding on for dear life. The nice red curtain flowed subtly as the AC flowed. The summer weather made things warmer, and it didn’t help with Yungblood’s fashion choice. He put a hand to the upper right of his forehead. He felt the indent of a scar, a reminder of how he always lived and continues to live. He was slightly insecure about it, with it being so noticeable and Flu always pointing out, but he figured it was just a soft jab. Even if it stung a bit. He was 17 now, it was time to man up for once.

The host got on stage and began to speak. He wore a simple brown sweater and slacks, a juxtaposition from the baggy jeans and hoodies that the performers wore. He waited as the crowd stopped their conversations and allowed him to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, next up we have our final singer. She has a rather unique name as you saw on the website. Hathor was an Egyptian goddess, the god of dance, maternity, and most importantly, music. She has a beautiful voice, so it fits to me. Please give your attention to Hathor.”

She walked on stage, making Miro’s eyes go wide.

Who’s she…?

It sounded rather cliche in his head, but she was fine. Real fine. She was light brown-skinned, with braided brown and blond hair that reached her chest. Her round face was almost perfect to him, with her glossy lips, cute freckles, and stunning brown eyes. She was…

She was…

Beautiful.

Miro scoffed to himself. He rarely used that word, but it seemed appropriate for this moment. He couldn’t find any other slang term to use to describe her beauty. He snapped out of his trance as she sat down on a stool. She wore a jean jacket, a light pink shirt, and cargo pants. He also noticed a guitar. She can play, nice. She didn’t even look at the audience, rather focusing on the floor and her instrument. He could feel the anxiety from here. With a forceful huff, she began strumming. It was a slow, somber tune. She closed her eyes and played the melody with a grimace on her face, almost like it hurt her every time it looped.

You’re never alone they said.
I’ll never be without you.
And now, alone I bled.
Do you remember? I do.

I’ll never forget what you said,
You sounded just like my father
I’ll never forget what you said,
And now I’m just a bother.

I’ll remember the times that we shared,
And you’ll move on to someone.
I’ll remember the pieces you broke,
I’ll wince when someone calls me hun.

I’ll wither away.
I’ll wither away.
I’ll….

Wither away…

And you won’t remember a thing.

The stunned crowd stood up in applauded the young woman, who finally looked up to see her performance did more than enough to impress the audience. Yungblood clapped along, commenting on how well she sang and her striking appearance. Miro was simply too weak to move. His eyes couldn’t get off her. Especially when she smiled. He was simply starstruck. Especially when she sang. He could feel the pain in her voice, the absolute relatability when she spoke about forgetting. It was like she read his mind, she knew all his frustrations with his parents, the city, hell, the country. He smiled finally, standing to clap alongside everyone else. He needed to talk to her. He turned to the rest of Yungblood.

“So… Who’s the honey on stage?”