by Jordan Ford
“Oh yeah.” She nods. “He’s always been my favorite relative, you know? Because he never makes me feel like doing what I want is wrong. He’s relaxed and cool…and, you know, he’s my superhero. It’s been awesome having him stay for so long, although Mom probably wants to slit her wrists. She’s been intolerable with these interviews and yay, she’s finally scored a job but now she’s gearing into work mode and it’s stressing her out. Plus she lost some diamond necklace that Dad gave her for their tenth wedding anniversary. She’s been tearing the house apart looking for it. She does have tornado-like tendencies but they’re always amplified when Uncle Rad’s around.”
“Do you think he might be out-staying his welcome?”
Max snickers. “He always does, but yeah, he’s really pushing it this time. I’m not complaining, though.” She winks at me. “If it wasn’t for him, Dad wouldn’t be assuming that his little brother is spending most of Spring Break prepping me for the end of season. His expectations just keep mounting. I should be playing the best ball I ever have in my life.”
She rolls her eyes, a muscle working in her jaw as she stares out the window.
My annoyance at her constant lying bubbles up, but we’re pulling into my driveway and I don’t want to fight just before meeting up with the band.
Pressing my lips together, I lead Max through our house and into the garage.
“Hey, guys.” I greet my friends, loping down the concrete steps like it’s no big deal that my girlfriend is following me.
I’ve never let girlfriends into a practice before. We usually have a Velocity-only policy, so I guess my friends have every right to look surprised…and annoyed.
I throw Latifa a warning look before pointing to the threadbare couch we usually lounge on after we’ve played.
Max takes a seat and nervously waves at everyone. “Hey. I hope you don’t mind. I’m just gonna watch.”
“Of course we mind,” Latifa snaps.
“No we don’t.” Roman waves his drumsticks through the air. “We like having an audience.”
I mouth him my thanks while preparing my guitar. It doesn’t take me long to tune up and we’re soon rocking out to “Dance, Dance.” It’s my favorite Fall Out Boy song and I love how great we sound when we play it.
Max’s smile is huge as she starts to move to the beat. It’s like a beacon is shining out of her, lighting the garage with her elation. She never looks happier than when she’s surrounded by music.
It makes me play better. It inspires me to do the best job I possibly can.
The song comes to a finish and Max punches the air with a whoop. “You guys are so good. You are totally getting a spot at the summer rock festival. There is no doubt in my mind.”
“Yeah, well it’s not your mind we need to win over.” Latifa’s dark eyes flash. “We’re up against big competition.”
“I’m sure you are,” Max counters softly while tucking her hands beneath her legs. “And I’m also sure that you have a really good shot.”
“Thanks, Cheerleader.” Roman points his sticks at Max before slamming them onto the drums.
I recognize the beat immediately and start strumming “American Idiot” before turning for the mic and singing.
Max sings along with me, dancing on the seat, oblivious to how beautiful she is.
The warmth in my chest expands to overflowing. Man, I wish she was up here with us. She’d be mesmerizing on a stage.
After “American Idiot” we drift into a couple more songs, rounding off our set with “Immortals” so Austin can have a play with the new sounds he’s been producing on his keyboard. The guy loves to fidget at home with different recordings and mashups. He’s always bringing stuff along for us to listen to and incorporate.
I’m puffing by the time I’m done. Holding the mic, I whisper, “Thank you,” to Max for her hardcore clapping and whistling.
I glance around the band and see that all of them are grinning. So I ask the question before anyone can stop me.
“Hey, Max, you want to get up here and play a song with us?”
Before anyone can respond, I walk to the wall and grab one of Dad’s guitars. Adjusting the strap, I hold it out for her.
She gives me a jittery look of excitement before glancing at Latifa.
“Oh, stop simmering, Tifa. It’s just a song. One song!” I snap.
“Yeah, let her play. I want to see what baseball girl’s got.” Austin wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ve been hearing good things about you, Barlow.”
She lets out this nervous laugh and takes the guitar, nestling the strap over her shoulders.
“What do you want to play?” I ask her, adjusting the mic so that if she decides to sing, it’ll be between our two heights.
“Um… I don’t know.”
“How about ‘Holiday’?”
“Okay.” Max grins.
“You start. We’ll play at your speed.” I point at her guitar and she sets her fingers on the strings, bobs her head as she silently counts the beat, then starts to strum.
Her face comes to life when Roman kicks in with his beat and then I start singing. We’re gelling together and she’s fitting in perfectly…even keeping in time with a beat that’s no slower than how Green Day plays the song.
The best part is, with her keeping the main chords going, I can break free to add in my own twiddly bits on top of the music. I’ve been able to do it a little before with Latifa keeping us strong on the bass, but to have Tifa and Max working together frees me up to experiment.
And the experimenting sounds frickin’ awesome.
Everybody knows it because when Roman smashes the drums after we sing our final “Holiday!” we all stop and gape at each other.
Even Latifa’s lips are twitching with a grin.
“That sounded amazing.” Austin’s voice is high with awe.
“Yeah, it really did, right?” I spin and point my guitar pick at him. “It totally worked.”
“Let’s do it again.” Austin tips his chin at Roman, who’s grinning like a chimp.
He catches Latifa’s eye and winks at her and she finally shows off those pretty white teeth of hers.
Cocking her eyebrow at Max, she gives her a pointed look. “Well, start us off, Guitar Girl.”
“Okay.” Max squeaks and sets us off on another round of “Holiday” that’s even better than the first.
Talk about ending Spring Break on a high. We elongate the practice by another hour and a half. We go through all the songs Max knows, even springing a few new ones on her. Those don’t go as well, but the speed she picks things up is pretty damn awesome; with a little practice, she could be performing with us soon enough.
I want to invite her to audition with us for the rock festival. It’d be pushing it to get her ready on time, but if she worked her ass off…
I lick my lips, swallowing down my nerves in order to blurt, “Do you think she could audition with us?”
The air gets sucked out of the room.
Max gasps. “What?” she whispers, while everyone else falls silent.
I wish I knew what they were thinking as they look at each other.
I try to make eye contact with each of them. Roman shrugs like he doesn’t mind. Austin nods, grinning at Max. He’s still surprised by her ability.
I spin to face Latifa. Her wide lips are pursed to the side.
“It’s a no unless you all agree,” Max murmurs. “I’m not here to cause any tension between you guys. I just really loved playing today.”
She pulls the guitar strap over her head and returns Dad’s guitar to its home against the wall.
“I’ll give you guys some privacy so you can talk about it.” Max heads for the door but is stopped by Latifa’s quiet voice.
“You’re better than I thought you were.”
I hold my breath, hope firing through me.
“And as much as I hate to say this, it was really cool having you play with us today. I can see you fitting, but only if you’re willi
ng to work your ass off.”
“I am.” Max jumps over the small amp and stands beside me. “I swear, I will play as much as I can. I won’t let you guys down.”
“Okay then.” Latifa smirks. “But I’m still not calling you a band member until you’ve earned your stripes. You know what I mean?”
“Yes.” Max grins.
Latifa fights a smile as she dips her head and tries not to give away the fact that she’s done something nice.
Hooking my arm around Max’s neck, I tug her towards me and kiss the side of her face.
I’m so happy right now I can’t even find the words to express it.
33
Heart Disintegration
MAX
I’m so happy I could fly.
After a luscious kiss that curls my toes, I leave Cairo at the end of my street and practically skip home.
I can’t believe it.
Playing with Velocity was the best feeling ever. The music surrounded me, took over my senses. It was the best! I could feel it flowing through my entire body, oozing out of my fingers and throat. There is seriously nothing better than that feeling.
Okay, it’s probably tied for first with kissing Cairo.
And I got to do both today!
I’ve never been this happy.
With a giddy laugh, I spin down my street and don’t come to a stop until I notice Uncle Conrad loitering in our driveway. He’s rubbing his forehead and looking kind of anxious as he paces in circles behind his car.
“Hey, Uncle Rad.” I skip up to him with a smile, still feeling giddy and giggly.
I can’t help it.
“Hey, Maxaroo.” He catches me against him and lifts me off my feet.
His laughter sounds heavier than usual, kind of loud and hard.
“Are you okay?” I grin at him when he sets me on my feet.
“All good, champ.” His wink and smile look genuine, making me think that I must have been seeing things when I first spotted him.
Draping his arm around my shoulders, he guides me towards the kitchen door. “So what’s got you so happy?”
I can’t help a triumphant laugh before launching into my epic afternoon. He stops me by the gate so I can finish my story without my parents overhearing.
“Isn’t that the best news ever!” I jump to my tiptoes and spring into his arms when he offers me a congratulatory hug.
“So proud of you, Maxy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”
“I am.” I laugh. “I feel like I could fly.”
“Yeah, well, you better dampen that down a notch before your parents see ya. They’ll know something’s up.”
I swallow, the wind ripped from my sails after that reality check. “Cairo thinks I should tell them the truth.”
Uncle Rad scoffs and shakes his head. “Cairo doesn’t know your dad like we do. Truth doesn’t always set you free. And there’s no way my big bro is gonna let you go to some club in Brazenwood so you can audition for a summer rock festival. Trust me, kid. Keep it quiet and let me get you there.”
I sigh and nod, a mixture of relief and guilt swirling through me.
“When is it again?”
“April twenty-first. It’s a Saturday.”
“That’s nearly a month away,” he murmurs, starting to cringe. Quickly, he hides it. “Well, if your mom manages not to kill me in that time, I’ll get you to that audition and then be on my way. Sound like a plan?” He holds up his fist for me to bump.
I rap my knuckles against his and shoot him a grateful smile. “Sounds like the perfect plan.”
“All right then.”
I grin, so grateful for my awesome, supportive uncle.
Turning for the kitchen door, I swing it open, that light excited feeling buzzing through me. I can’t help just a little spin in the kitchen.
Uncle Conrad chuckles and shuts the door behind us.
“Is that you, brother?” Dad calls from the dining room.
My waltz comes to an abrupt stop in the kitchen. All the fuzzy feelings duck into hiding as I pull my smile into line and try to walk casual.
“Just me and Max.” Uncle Conrad opens the fridge.
“Excellent. Hey!” Dad’s face lights with a grin when I walk into the dining room. Standing from his chair, he wraps me in a bear hug before holding me at arm’s length and grinning. “I have some exciting news.”
“Aw, yeah?” Hot dread pools in my stomach.
Good news for Dad usually means pressure for me.
“I’ve just spent the afternoon chatting with the scout from Ohio. I told him that changing teams and playing with the guys has done nothing to harm your season and he is very excited to watch you again.” Dad gives me an excited smile. “And guess what?”
My throat’s so dry it’s hard to speak. “What?”
“I’ve convinced him to come watch you play in the final game before the playoffs!” Dad laughs and pulls me into another monster hug.
“The final game? When’s that?” My voice is muffled against his shirt as I try to remember the game schedule. They pack so many games into the season, and I’m really bad at keeping track.
He pulls away and quickly spins to consult Mom, who’s sitting there with a proud smile. She picks up the schedule.
“April twenty-first.” She smiles at me. “Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my heart sinking into that hot dread and instantly disintegrating.
That’s the same day as the audition.
“Do you, um…do you know the time of the game?”
Mom’s pale eyebrows wrinkle with confusion before she glances at the schedule again. “Afternoon. Three p.m.”
I don’t know when the audition is yet.
Maybe I can still pull this off.
I can do both, right?
“He’s going to want to interview you after the game, and I’ll talk to your teachers about compiling your grades for us as he’ll want to make sure you’re a good student. I’ve already told him you are, but he’s gonna want proof.”
Dad’s still talking, oblivious to the fact my brain’s going numb around the edges.
How can I make this work?
Can I really fit in the required practice to deserve a spot in Velocity…and impress the scout Dad’s bringing in from Ohio? Plus keep my grades up?
I have to tell him.
I have to do it right now.
Opening my mouth, I try to interrupt my father.
I open my mouth, ready to say Dad, I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to pursue music.
But all that comes out is a tiny squeak.
And then Uncle Conrad shifts into my line of vision. His loud slurp from the beer can catches my attention and I look at him.
His headshake is subtle but unmissable.
“Rad, did you hear the great news?” Dad spins, slapping his hand on Uncle Conrad’s shoulder and giving it an excited squeeze.
“Yeah, buddy.”
“You’ll help her get prepped, right?” Dad doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting down next to Mom and looking at my schedule. “I don’t know how much longer you’re planning on staying, but you’re welcome to keep sleeping here if you can help Max. You know the reason we’ve let you hang out for so long is that you’re working with our girl. All those hours you played in high school are finally paying off.” Dad lets out a booming laugh. “This is a really great chance for her to get selected for a college team, and she needs your personal coaching skills for just a little while longer.”
“Of course, man.” Uncle Conrad’s eyes skip to mine and we share a slightly panicked look.
“Reece.” Mom stands from the table. “The game’s not for four weeks. Surely Conrad can’t stay that long.”
“Nah, it’s cool, Kristin. I don’t mind helping out.” Uncle Conrad looks to me, his lips twitching. “I’ll make sure she’s prepared for April twenty-first, don’t you worry.”
Mom’s blue gaze t
urns molten hot. The tight smile on her face hides nothing.
Dad ignores her look and instead focuses on me. “This is it, Maximus, the beginning of a whole new life for you. College, here we come!” He stands up and swoops me into yet another excited hug. My resolve to burst his bubble struggles to find air let alone leave my mouth.
34
Cowardice
CAIRO
Something’s off with Max.
She’s absolutely exhausted. Her eyes have red rims around the edges and gray smudges beneath. She’s tense, and it’s showing in everything she does.
We’ve been back at school for over three weeks. The audition’s this weekend and I’m really worried she’s not going to pull it off.
She’s been pushing herself to the limit—overpacking her life with guitar lessons, band practice, baseball and school.
As she sits here screwing up the chords, I can’t take it anymore.
My guitar twangs as I slap my hand over the strings.
“What’s up?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time since school’s gone back.
“Nothing.” She hitches her shoulder and I can’t help letting out an irritated huff.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you what’s up. You’re exhausted because you can’t fit it all in. Your dad’s extra training schedule is insane. Now, I know Uncle Rad’s getting you out of some of it, but you’re still pushing too hard. And that’s making you perform badly everywhere.”
Clenching her jaw, she looks away, training her eyes on the egg carton soundproofing.
“Believe me, I hate having to make you choose on this, but—”
“I can manage it.”
“No, you can’t. I mean, maybe you could handle both, but only if your dad will back the hell off!” I huff. “The amount of pressure he puts on you is…”
“No greater than the pressure to play well for Velocity!”
“Hey.” I point at her. “That’s not fair. If you don’t want to play, then don’t.”
Her shoulders slump and she looks like a wounded puppy.
Reaching for her hand, I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “Hey, look at me.”