by Shane Morgan
“I wonder,” Emma continues, hauling me out of the memory, “does Milo even remember you guys had a wedding a few days after the showdown in the sandbox? That was hilarious,” she says with a giggle. “But I had a good time witnessing the ceremony. Do you remember where we held it? Inside the—”
“Whatever,” I stop her from rehashing. “I’m over it.”
The car goes quiet. Emma knows all too well that once I say those three words, it’s the end of the subject.
“Yes, ma’am,” she breathes, accepting defeat.
Shortly after, she connects her iPhone to the car stereo, drowning out the silence. I forget about Milo as we belt out Halestorm’s ‘Love Bites (So Do I)’. We keep singing two more songs without missing a single word, until Drew’s house comes into view.
The band’s practicing for Seville’s annual spring festival next Friday. It can’t be the same songs from Lights Out because we’ve been told by the event coordinator that our music is too depressing, too dark, and too hard-core for such a family event. He requested something lighter or we’d be asked to drop out of the line-up.
I’m insulted by his remark because I write our songs, but I can easily write something more fitting for the festival.
We’ve been trying to play together as much as possible, with Drew and Chris heading off to college in fall, and Alex moving to France with his dad right after graduation. Days End is definitely coming to an end.
I’ll miss it. We started the band in middle school, and that was our only extracurricular activity. We’ve fought together, eaten together, laughed together, and have faced disappointment together. But not once have I ever felt like the chick that didn’t get the memo. I’m always and forever a part of them, as they are a part of me. Besides, with Emma and Drew dating, there’s another girl around most of the time who happens to love music as much as I do.
I pull into the driveway and park behind Drew’s red pickup. Turning off the engine, I jump out instantly to grab my Fender electric guitar off the backseat, taking a moment to admire its beauty. Plain black as it is, this guitar means the world to me.
As a kid, I’d spent countless hours air playing and singing loudly, pretending to be Joan Jett. She’s my favorite musician of all time.
Mom would threaten to never let Dad buy me a guitar if I was going to stay up late at night making a commotion.
“But how will I ever be great?” I’d asked her.
She would pat my head and say, “Just try to keep it down.”
None of that matters now because they never got the chance to buy me one, much less heard me play live. I busted my butt working part-time at restaurants and babysitting until I finally saved enough money to buy this baby off a dealer two years ago. It feels great not having to borrow or rent anymore.
I must have been lost in reminiscing for a while because all of a sudden I hear Emma’s footsteps quickening around the car to check on me.
She gently places her hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Law?” she asks, worried.
I shrug and smile at her, taking my most valuable asset off the backseat. “Yeah, I’m cool.”
We walk across the gravel path over to the front steps, where Drew meets us on the porch.
“Hey, dude!” He fist pumps me. I mess up his shaggy blonde hair.
Emma pushes past me. She slams into his chest, lodging her lips on his. He wraps his arms around her, only there’s something different about the way he does it. He appears a little… hesitant. Both would act as if they’ve been apart for days when it’s only been a few hours. But now he seems off.
“Hello to you, too,” he says once she pulls away. It was just a few days ago that his blue eyes were lighting up like two clairvoyant crystal balls at her. Now, they’re relaxed, almost unfazed.
I must be wrong. They’re crazy about each other.
Emma leans in once more, this time gentler. “I missed you all day.” She pouts like a five-year-old.
Drew smiles halfway, unable to resist her charm.
“You did?” he replies, sounding more interested than he looks. “How bad?”
“You know,” she murmurs sexily.
I stick my finger in my mouth and pretend like I’m about to barf. Emma nudges my shoulder.
Drew tugs her inside the house as a naughty look forms on his face.
I wonder if I’ll ever experience something like what they have. Probably not with Milo, since he has no interest in me whatsoever.
Manoeuvring carefully past the ravenous couple, I walk down the passage and descend the stairs to the finished basement.
“Heads up!” Chris shouts, tossing me a bottle of Sprite as soon as I reach the landing.
I catch it and stride over to the old green leather couch and place my guitar down, making myself comfortable as I sit beside it.
“Thanks,” I say before having a drink. “Where’s Alex?”
“On his way.”
Chris ambles over to the back of the couch and perches against it. His bleached burgundy strands fall over his thick dark brows as he slants his head and looks down at me, smirking.
He and Drew are so much alike. More like brothers than cousins, especially when it comes to their flirting and cocky attitudes.
Like the way Chris isn’t wearing a shirt right now, putting his hard muscles on display. Wow. He’s looking more ripped by the day. I wonder who he’s trying to impress because it certainly can’t be me. I’m not in the least bit flushed.
I burst out laughing as he flexes his biceps. “Settle down, Hulk, and please put that away.”
His brows shoot up, pretending to be appalled. “Really? You’re not bothered at all by my hotness?”
Chris always does this to me. He tests the level of my tolerance being around three good-looking guys on a daily basis. I don’t know why he wastes his time when he’s well aware that they’ll always be like brothers to me.
“Hotness?” I snort. “If I were you, I’d hide that hot mess.”
“Uh.”
He places his hand at his heart, feigning insult. Easing off the couch, he leans over and snatches up his blue t-shirt beside me, hauling it over his head.
“So I heard you actually went up to Richie Rich and asked him out. What’s up with that?”
My hand freezes with the bottle near my lips. I peer up into his curious gray eyes, which appear to be concerned for me.
“Who told you that?” I ask, embarrassed.
“That friend of his, Ryan something, was mouthing off in gym. He said ‘the girl who thinks she’s cool ‘cause she plays in a band was like a total spaz today in front of Milo.’” He chokes back on laughter. “So of course, I knew it was you.”
“Shut up.” I glare at him.
Chris messes up my hair until the scrunchie comes loose and I spill soda on myself.
“Ugh! Jerk,” I hiss.
“Kind of weird for you to do something like that,” he says as he walks over to where we’ve set up our equipment to practice.
“Not exactly,” I reply, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Then I inspect the damp spots on my black top as I continue. “I can be spontaneous at times.” I’m trying to sound casual and unaffected.
He huffs a sarcastic laugh, obviously not buying it. I guess I’m a joke even to my friends now after what happened with Milo.
I sit out on the couch to place the bottle on the coffee table. Then I put my long hair back into a ponytail like before. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
He strums on Drew’s bass and stares at me intently, making me feel like I’m a naïve little girl. My refusal to speak on the issue means nothing to him as he proceeds to stomp on my already wounded ego. “Yeah, well, I heard the asshat didn’t even remember you.”
“Um, okay. Go ahead, please rub it in. Thanks,” I sneer.
Feeling uneasy, I rise from the couch to get my guitar ready for practice.
He goes on. “I don’t get this silly attraction you feel fo
r the prick. I hate how he walks around with this high and mighty attitude like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. I just want to sock—”
“Christopher, drop it!” I snap, stooping down to pick up the cable for my guitar to connect it to the amp. “You’re sounding like a jealous boyfriend right now.”
He blows out a sharp breath and settles the bass down, lifting both hands in the air in surrender as he backs up and takes his seat behind the drums. “All right, sorry. But c’mon, how can he not know who you are? He must be pretty self-absorbed, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” I mumble.
Frustrated, he taps the drumsticks together. “I just think it’s crazy that you like someone who doesn’t know you’re alive.”
“Oh my God…”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”
I set up my guitar next to the microphone stand. “Let’s focus on some songs for the festival.”
“Fine,” he says.
I block the whole thing out of my head and thrum on my guitar, working the pedal to tune the sound to something I’m comfortable with. I find the right one and instinctively, melodies from the night before come rushing back to me.
“I’ve been working on this song,” I tell him, snapping out of my funk. “I think we can play it at the festi—”
“Sing it for us,” Alex calls out, taking me by surprise as he slides down the railing of the staircase.
He’s been acting strange of late, giving me these weird, beseeching looks. I ignore him and concentrate on my guitar. In any case, he knows I don’t sing in front of anyone, not even Chris or Drew, so why does he bug me like this?
“I’ll play it acoustically,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. “It’s pretty easy to catch. You’ll make out the harmonies in no time.”
Alex curls his lips into a smug grin. He turns away from me and gives Chris a high-five before taking his place behind the microphone stand.
Drew runs down shortly, Emma right behind him. “Hey ladies, you miss me?” he jokes.
“Shut up,” Alex retorts.
He falls in place and picks up his bass. Emma relaxes on the leather loveseat opposite the one I was sitting on before. She’s proven to be one of our best critics, always keeping it real. If our songs suck, she has no problem letting us know.
All four of us give each other the “ready” nod and Chris counts us off with his drum sticks.
1-2-3.
My fingers ignite. I lead us into the up-tempo ‘Let’s Make the Feeling Last’. Alex croons smoothly, sounding like a spawn of Kurt Cobain and Coldplay’s Chris Martin.
On a starry night like this
I want to be trapped inside your bliss
Lay your sweet lips on mine
…as our bodies entangle and freeze in time
Together, we combine and create melodies that always manage to elevate my heart. Only in these moments can I push my endless sorrow to the side. Nothing else matters now. I’m partially free.
I glance over at each of them as they’re caught up in their own zone. Chris is like a beast. He’ll go so hard on the drums that he’s practically falling over by the end. Drew, on the other hand, is always in a romantic trance. His eyes are closed throughout, and then afterwards he’ll make out with Emma like it’s their first time.
Alex is like a vampire. There’s something about his soulful singing that makes the girls go crazy, hypnotized, so to speak.
Well, every girl except me.
He has the right vocals to emphasize the meaning behind the words I write. Whenever I bring him a new song, he wants me to sing it first so he’ll know exactly how it sounds.
I only sing for Alex. He always encourages me to perform at our shows, but that will never happen. My raspy voice is far from appealing, and I doubt I can enchant a crowd the way he does. Our positions in the band are just right and perfect as is until we end.
We practice till 10p.m., working on songs considerably appropriate for the festival, along with the crowd pleasers like ‘Underneath’, ‘Crept inside Me’, and ‘Poison Eyes’ for our show tomorrow night at Lights Out.
Afterwards, I play the acoustic version of ‘Alive’, the new song I’ve been working on, and I’m delighted that they like it.
At the end of practice, the four of us collapse on the couch, grasping for air after rehearsing vigorously.
Emma is already dozing off on the loveseat across from us. We all grab bottled water from Drew’s mini refrigerator and sit in silence until we can breathe steady again.
Predictably, Chris is the first to break the quiet. “Well, that was the shit!” he shouts, jerking Drew’s shoulder.
Drew turns his head to him, grinning broadly as he yells, “Hell yeah!” He springs from the couch. I assume to plant a kiss on Emma’s lips, but he moves past her, tosses his towel in a basket, and starts turning off the amps.
Weird. What happened to making out with her like it’s their first time?
Alex remains silent. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, wondering what is going on inside that head. Is he only now feeling the woes of moving to another country and leaving his friends behind?
I blow out a breath and push off the couch, heaving Emma to her feet. “Let’s go get a late night snack,” I tell her.
She throws her arm over my shoulder. “Sure thing. By the way, that new song is crazy. I can’t wait to hear you guys perform it at the festival.”
We head upstairs. Chris walks to the kitchen in search of food. I leave Emma and Drew talking in whispers on the porch while Alex accompanies me to the car.
“So what are you going to do when I leave and the cousins take off for California this summer? I don’t think Em is going to stick around for long, either,” he informs me.
I place my guitar on the backseat and whip around fast. “What? They’re going to Cali for the summer? They didn’t say a word to me.”
From the look on his face, Alex is as surprised as I am. He twists and shoots Drew a frown over his shoulder. “Yeah, well, something about getting adjusted before school,” he explains as he turns back to me. “Anyways, I was wondering what your plans were.”
Crossing my arms, I joke around with him. “Aww, you don’t have to worry about me, sweetie. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
I know he’s worried that I’m going to be in Seville all by my lonesome self.
“Besides, I’ll be busy working on getting my songwriting career off the ground,” I add, trying to assure him.
A grim look forms on his face that’s dimly lit by the indigo moon. “Is that so?” he retorts. “Rora, we both know what you should be doing, and it sure as hell isn’t just writing. C’mon, now that Days End is going on its official break, why don’t you start doing solos?”
I straighten, frustrated. Alex backs up. The look in his emerald eyes switch from empathy to something else I’m too afraid to decipher.
Feeling tired, I motion toward his car blocking me in. “Can you let me out please?” And without waiting for him to move away, I walk around to the driver’s side of the Volvo and hop in.
He comes up to the passenger side window, giving me a hard look as he says, “You know, maybe it’s time you forget Milo and pay closer attention to who’s already in front of you.”
I scoff and drop my head back against the seat. “Oh yeah, who?”
He doesn’t answer, only continues to stare at me like I should have it all figured out. I don’t.
Emma walks over and shoves him lightly. “See ya, sexy voice.” She ruffles his sweaty, caramel hair before climbing inside the car. “Okay, let’s go eat. I’m starving!”
I ignore her and ask him again, “Who?”
Alex sighs. “Rora, I’ve—” He stops himself from going further, exhaling a razor-sharp breath as he levels his gaze on me. His eyes—yearning for something—glisten as the moonlight reflects in them. I find it hard to look at him with the intense way he’s staring at me.
Shaking his
head, he rakes a hand through his sweaty hair and sputters, “Never mind.” Then he walks away without uttering another word.
Alex backs his car out from behind me and takes off down the street. I can’t help but wonder why he seemed to be having such a hard time telling me something, and why I’m afraid of what he might say.
4.
Emma and I make our way inside Knightley’s Stop & Snack diner. The place is on the outskirts of our neighborhood, but it’s so worth the trip. Our mouths water thinking about the usual order of buffalo chicken fingers and fries with a slice of tasty apple pie.
Who can turn down such a delicious meal?
Sitting at one of the leather booths by the window, I decide to get information from Emma in regards to what Alex told me.
“How come you didn’t mention a thing about Drew and Chris heading to Cali for summer?” I ask, convinced she had to have known.
Surprisingly, her brows knit into a scowl and she looks at me bug-eyed. “What? They are?”
My jaw drops. I can’t believe her boyfriend didn’t say a thing. “Wait, you didn’t know?”
She chews on the corner of her bottom lip, smearing her soft pink lip gloss. “No… are you sure?” she asks, her voice barely discernible.
She slouches in the seat, looking pitiful. I reach across the table to touch her hand. “Sorry Ems. Alex told me so I assumed you knew. Maybe Drew wants to take you along and it’s supposed to be a surprise?”
We fall back in our seats as Mr. Knightley brings our orders over. “Enjoy, girls,” he bids, tapping the table before he walks away.
Emma picks up the fork and plays around with her fries. “Maybe, but if not, then that sucks. I really wanted to spend some time with him before leaving for school, especially since he’s been kinda off. I don’t get why he didn’t tell me he’s bailing for summer, though. I mean, what the hell? Do you know how far California is from Ohio? That’s like thirty hours.”