It Started with Goodbye

by Christina June

  “Deal.” We both laughed, and she hugged me back.

  “It’s going to get better. Look at us—it already has.” I could only hope Mr. Zanotti would come around, or that Ash would figure out some way to get through to him. Like I hoped to with my dad and Belén.

  Ashlyn laid her head back on my shoulder and I rested my head on top of hers. We sat that way, still and connected, through the next song.

  “They’re really good.”

  “Definitely. Actually, I know them. I went to one of their practices—” I stopped talking when Shay sauntered up to Hunter’s microphone and tapped it with his finger.

  “Hey, everyone.” His smile was easy, and I immediately smiled back in his direction. Talk about magnetic pull.

  “Thanks again for coming. Even though we’d all still play music for ourselves because we love it so much, it makes it even better when there’s someone listening who loves it too.” A lot of kids sitting in the crowd nodded. “So on that note, pun totally intended”—he laughed at his own joke—“the guys have graciously agreed to let me do something a little self-indulgent tonight. For our last song, I put together something special for someone who is here tonight and who also loves music. So much that she once said my playing wrecked her.”

  I didn’t think twice about what he said until he walked to the side of the stage and brought over a cello, while Hunter brought him a chair to sit on. My mouth popped open, and all the blood rushed to my ears. As he started to play, the melody I’d listened to so many times, the one that I’d memorized through sound and through tears, came soaring out of his instrument.

  I blinked several times in disbelief. SK was Shay was my hot guy? How was that possible?

  I stared at him, at the bow moving so beautifully across the strings, as the emotion I’d felt so strongly in my chest played out on his handsome face. He’d closed his eyes, but his brows and lips—which I couldn’t help but notice looked like they might be soft—were expressing the same longing I’d felt when I heard his recording. I closed my eyes too and just listened. On its own, my hand found Ashlyn’s and gripped it tightly as the notes swelled.

  “Do you know this song?” she whispered, concerned.

  “Yes,” I whispered back. I opened my eyes in time to see SK open his, which were focused right on me. He knew it was me; he knew who I was. How had this happened? And without me realizing? I felt like I’d just been transported to some alternate universe where everything I thought I knew was wrong. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I stared right back at him, unable to process the thoughts swirling around my head. I was grateful for Ashlyn’s hand, which must have been aching from my viselike grip.

  As SK continued to play, the other band members took their places back at their instruments and joined him, mashing the classical solo piece with a Sarah Jarosz bluegrass song I’d come to love this summer thanks to SK, “Tell Me True.”

  Even though it was Hunter singing, I felt in my veins it was SK asking if I thought of him, if there was a chance. Though we’d been thousands of miles apart, both in distance and situation, over the course of the summer, I couldn’t deny now that all the times I’d thought he’d been flirting with me were real. I hadn’t fooled myself into thinking his words had double meanings. My stomach knotted in the best possible way, knowing that the tiny-something-nameless feeling I’d felt had also been felt by the person on the other end. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about that possibility, it seemed so unreal, but in that moment, there was nothing else on my mind.

  “This might be the best song I’ve ever heard.” Ash squeezed my hand, somehow knowing the music was affecting me more than it was her.

  “Me too.”

  When the song ended, all four boys stood in a line on stage and took a bow as the entire audience jumped to their feet and clapped like their lives depended on it. I did the same, pulling Ash up with me. Even though the night was warm, I shivered on my feet, musing over what, if anything, to do next. The boys exited the stage as the last and final band began tuning their instruments. Abby and Tilly finally came back, both with enormous smiles on their faces, chattering together about the music.

  “So good!” Abby said. Tilly nodded her head vigorously in agreement. They both seemed to notice Ashlyn at the same time.

  “Hi, Tilly,” Ash said quietly, hand in the air in greeting.

  “Hello, Ashlyn.” Tilly pursed her lips primly. I didn’t know if it was out of disapproval for Ash or protection of me. I hoped the latter. I nodded slightly so Tilly would know everything was cool with me and Ash, and she visibly relaxed her jaw.

  “Ashlyn, you know Abby Gold from school, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think we had math together freshman year.”

  Abby gave her best professional smile. “I think that’s right. Thanks for coming. I know the support is appreciated. Did you all get a chance to catch up?” She looked at me pointedly.

  “Yeah, we did.” I smiled and glanced at Ash, who seemed happier than she had all night.

  Abby’s face suddenly broke out into a wide grin as she focused on something behind me. “Hey, Shay! Amazing show. You guys really outdid yourselves.”

  I froze as SK came up behind us and gave Abby a quick side hug. “Thanks, Abby. And thanks for coming, ladies. We definitely have the prettiest fans.” He smiled at me, and I was glad for the darkness concealing my furious blush. “Could I borrow you for a minute, Tate?”

  He called me Tate. Abby’s eyebrows perked up. “Sure,” I said, and gingerly took the hand he extended toward me, like it was something we’d been doing forever. As he led me away from my friends, I sent a quick “oh my goodness” look over my shoulder at them and tried not to swoon too hard at the thought of his hand—warm, firm, calloused—holding mine.

  “Is this okay?” I blinked at the sound of his voice. He held up our entwined fingers.

  “Oh. Um, yes.” Majorly surreal that I was hand in hand with someone who, until an hour ago, had been a figment of my imagination, but definitely okay.

  He laughed softly. “I thought we could roast some marshmallows. You do like roasted marshmallows, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Because I don’t think I could handle a girl who didn’t like them.”

  I sucked in a breath. Flirting in person was so much better than over the internet. His teasing nearly knocked me off my feet. My fingers twitched, and he held them tighter.

  We arrived at the fire pit, flames dancing in the light breeze, and he let go of my hand so he could retrieve two sticks and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. The instant he broke contact, I wished he hadn’t.

  SK stuck a marshmallow on a stick and handed it to me. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” I was still so surprised he was here in the flesh, I didn’t know what else to say.

  He made one for himself and sat down next to me on a bench before we stuck our marshmallows into the fire.

  “So, are you a lightly toasted fan, or do you like it charred and dripping?” he asked. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Because I myself like my marshmallows somewhere in the middle. Gooey so the sugar starts to caramelize, but not all blackened and falling off the stick.”

  “You sound like an expert.”

  “Well, I have been on a camping trip or two.”

  “Cub scouts?” I teased.

  “You know, I look really good in khaki.”

  “I bet.” He probably looked good in everything.

  We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the fire lick the air. I pulled my marshmallow out first.

  “Brown,” I said, smiling shyly at him.

  “Brown.” He nodded knowingly.

  Mine was perfectly crisp; I licked my lips. He licked his as well, and we both stuffed our faces with the sugary deliciousness. When I’d finished chewing, I felt ready to burst. There was so much I needed to know.

  “So, how did you know
it was me? I mean, I was me? When did you know?” I blurted.

  “Honestly, I didn’t figure it out until rehearsal last week. Abby was there, and said something about how Tatum the graphic designer, who made the poster, was sneaking out to the show.”

  I smacked my hand on the bench. “Of course, me sneaking out would tip you off.”

  “Well, that’s how I knew the girl I’d been emailing all summer was going to see us play. I didn’t realize we’d met in person before until right before we went on stage. Hunter pointed you out, and it all clicked. Like a ton of bricks, as they say.”

  “I hope you didn’t get hurt.”

  “Nah, I’m pretty solid.” He knocked on his head as I remembered smacking into him at McIntosh and exactly how solid he was.

  “I feel like so silly for not connecting the dots earlier.”

  “How could you have? I never told you my name when we bumped into each other at the art showcase.”

  I flushed yet again, recalling how we’d originally met. “You could have told me it was your poster I was shredding, you know?”

  He laughed. “But you were so cute when you were giving your honest opinions. I couldn’t break your heart and tell you how close you were to the performer himself.” He ran a finger over the top of my hand; I may have shuddered a little.

  “So, performer. Who are you in real life? SK? Shay? What do you want me to call you?” I hid behind my lashes.

  “Perhaps now would be a good time to reintroduce myself.” He stuck his hand out confidently. “Seamus Kipsang. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Tatum Elsea. Charmed.” I gave him my hand, and he squeezed it. “Gosh, if I’d asked for a little more information, I might have realized you were you way earlier. The night I snuck out to band practice, maybe.”

  “Or if I’d had the guts to ask you for your number in the first place.”

  “That too.” We both laughed, and he threaded his fingers through mine again. For the first time since we’d sat down, I noticed the band on stage. They were good, but definitely not as good as the Frisson. We listened together, hand in hand, just enjoying the moment.

  When the song ended, Seamus turned to me. “What did you think of your song?”

  My song. “Wrecked again. I’m surprised you didn’t find a puddle of me on the ground afterward.”

  He grinned. “That’s good, right?”

  “Yes, very good. I loved it. How did you have time to do that, anyway? I mean, if you only knew this week that I’d be here?”

  “Truth? I started on the arrangement while I was in Ireland. I dunno, I felt inspired, I guess.” This time, he blushed. It was adorable. “I like to think I would have had the courage to send it to you, and then you would have demanded we meet in person. But this worked out even better, I think.”

  “Demanded, eh?”

  “You did ask me a lot of rather bossy questions.”

  “True.” I watched as the firelight reflected golden flickers in his green eyes. “I have to ask you something I’ve been wondering ever since I first heard you perform.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too personal, but I am dying to know what you think about when you play. The look on your face is unbelievable. I could feel it in the recording too. So many emotions.”

  He suddenly became shy. “It’s not too personal,” he said, but I knew it was something important by his small voice. “I actually think about my parents.” Not the answer I was expecting. “You know how I told you my mom’s from Ireland and my dad’s from Kenya?” I nodded. “So my dad told me how they met at a dance club, of all places. He was studying at GW and my mom was at NYU. She was down in DC for the weekend, visiting a friend, and, to make a long story short, he pretty much saved her from some skeevy guy who wanted to dance with her and wouldn’t leave her alone. He pretended to be her boyfriend, and that was that.”

  I laughed. “That’s awesome. But how does that translate to your playing?”

  “They dated long-distance until they graduated, and my dad went back to Kenya to take care of visas and stuff, and it was really hard for both of them to be apart. They knew, right away, they wanted to be together, but because of life, they couldn’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. So that’s what I think about when I’m playing the wistful, bittersweet pieces.” He offered me a small smile. “I think I might get it now.”

  I smiled back, fully prepared to faint dead away onto the ground.

  The band finished up and the crowd began to disperse, and still we sat, hand in hand. When I saw Tilly inching her way toward us, clearly trying to not interrupt the moment we were having, I checked my watch. “I’m probably going to turn into a pumpkin soon. We promised we would be home by midnight.”

  Seamus stood up and pulled me up off the bench, dangerously close to an embrace. “Well, princess, then I guess this is good night.” I didn’t want it to be. I so didn’t. It must have shown on my face, because the corners of his mouth lifted jovially. “But before you go, I have a question.”

  “Yes?” I breathed.

  “Could I interest you in a real date some time?”

  My smile could not have gotten any wider. “Definitely. I demand it. Though, that will probably involve meeting my parents.” I stiffened at the thought of bringing Seamus home and introducing him to the family. Would I even be allowed out of the house? I wondered what my dad and Belén would think.

  “Don’t worry, I’m great with parents.” He flashed me a million-watt smile like he was appearing in a toothpaste commercial, waggling his eyebrows.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about,” I said, but I laughed anyway. He wrapped me up in his arms for a hug, and I marveled at how well our bodies fit together. He was warm against me, and I could feel his heart beating, just as fast as mine was, against my chest. I pulled away first and smiled, a real, genuine, eye-crinkling smile. He gave me one back and brought my hand, again entwined with his, to his lips. I closed my eyes, and when he let me go, I could still feel the sparks on the back of my hand.

  “I wish I’d done that back in June,” he said, with a smile that glowed in the darkness.

  “Me too,” I murmured, and caught myself. “I mean, uh, I wanted, I mean . . . .” I threw my hands up. “I can never speak around you. I turn into incoherent girl.”

  He chuckled and put his arm around my shoulder. “I know, I kinda like it.” We disconnected, and he patted his hips. “I almost forgot. I think this is yours.” He unclipped something from his belt loop, took my hand, and pressed a small, warm object into my palm. When I looked down, there was my missing keychain.

  I froze. Just when I thought the night couldn’t have gotten any stranger, my most sentimental possession, the one I thought had vanished forever, showed back up in exactly the most unexpected place.

  I studied it, winking in the reflection of the fairy lights in the yard. After a summer of self-reflection, I knew I didn’t need a piece of metal to keep me out of harm’s way. I could do that all by myself. But it was still a reminder—a good reminder—of my mother, of my father, and of the fact that I wasn’t on my own. I’d thought I had no one on my side when I’d lost the keychain, but now I had Abby and Hunter. I had Ash back, and Tilly for the first time. And somehow, as if by fate, it seemed I had Seamus. I didn’t need the keychain now, other than to simply hold my keys, but I was glad to have it back just the same. I glanced at it again, ran a thumb over the inscription, and slipped it into my pocket. I looked up at Seamus and cocked my head to the side.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “At school. The night we met. It was on the floor, right under my poster.”

  “The angel wings on my TLC logo didn’t give me away?”

  He smiled at me warmly. “I hoped it was you.” He pulled me in again and pressed a light kiss into my hair. “Good night, Tatum.”

  “Good night, Seamus.”

  I walked, slightly dazed, b
ack to my friends. Tilly had packed up my belongings for me and was standing amiably with Ashlyn. Abby watched the stage, where Hunter was helping break down the electricals, and scribbled in her notebook. She turned at my footsteps.

  “Hello, friend, welcome back,” Abby said, giving me a knowing look.

  I opened my mouth to dish, but Ash interrupted me. “Tate, I want to hear all about whatever that was.” She waved her hands in the general direction of the fire pit. “Because it looked like something swoonworthy just happened. But my ride is about to leave. I’ll be home Labor Day weekend. Can we talk then? Hang out?” Hope hung in her words.

  “Absolutely. I won’t leave out anything.” I grabbed Ash and pressed on her the fiercest hug I could manage, hoping I communicated all the things I was feeling—relief, optimism, affection for her—into our embrace. She hugged me back; we clung together until tears snuck down both our cheeks and mingled together.

  We pulled apart and giggled at each other. “I’ll see you soon, Ash.”

  “Soon.”

  Ashlyn squeezed my hand and ran across the yard, toward the cars and into the darkness. My heart swelled with happiness.

  Chapter 17

  On the ride home from Sol Jam, I made Tilly promise she would show her mom the new portfolio. If I was going to explain myself once more and go down in flames, she was going with me.

  “You can’t wait,” I told her. “She’s going to need some time to accept it.”

  Tilly gave me a grim smile. “Yeah, she’s never really been good with change.”

  “Again with the humor! I am a good influence on you, stepsister.”

  We drove home the rest of the way, going over every detail of what had happened that night, from the band to Ashlyn to Seamus to Tilly’s sudden interest in Paolo. It felt like we’d been having these kinds of conversations for years.

  After we crept into the dark house and tiptoed upstairs, I slid into my pajamas, replaying the unbelievable series of events that had transpired with a smile on my face so bright, people could see it next door. I was almost asleep when my laptop dinged. One more happy surprise—there in my inbox was a note from Seamus. I brought the computer over to my bed, laid down, and set it on my stomach to read.