Betrayal of the Band

by Sarah Tipton

  Bailee, however, watching from the couch caught every unsung lyric.

  Ignore her.

  But Bailee’s glares and sneers and wrinkled nose broke Zoey’s concentration on tone and pitch and keeping her place.

  Zoey survived the first run-through of the eight song set. If feeling totally drained counted as surviving. She expected Travis and Myles to grab her by the arms and throw her out like night club bouncers evicting a drunk. And part of her, the exhausted, felt-like-a-failure part, didn’t care if they did.

  “Let’s go through it again,” Vance said without even glancing at Zoey. Apparently, she’d survived round one.

  “I need to pee,” Zoey lied. What she needed was a time machine so she could go back to Wednesday night and un-accept Aurora Fire’s invitation.

  “Hurry up.”

  She stepped over the cords snaking across the concrete floor and scurried into the basement bathroom. A moment alone to breathe. She relaxed against the closed door and took a deep breath. The room smelled a little weird, but it was mostly clean.

  Singing was supposed to bring her peace, but her nerves felt twitchy. The problem had to be the unfamiliar songs. If Aurora Fire didn’t kick her out tonight, she’d try harder, practice harder, sing harder.

  Voices drifted through the hollow door. Zoey strained to listen twisting her necklace around her finger and cutting off the circulation.

  “She can’t hack it.” Bailee’s harsh judgment was unmistakable.

  “We don’t have any other choice.” At least Vance was on her side, sort of.

  “And she keeps up with the music,” Travis’s gravelly voice added. “That other girl who tried out finished every song three measures late.”

  “But she could sing all the words.” Bailee refused any praise toward Zoey.

  “What’s your problem, Bailee?” Vance to the almost-rescue again.

  “I think she’s going to bail on you guys on stage.”

  Zoey squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears. Bailee was probably right. Singing wasn’t usually this hard—not with Justin and Sawyer anyway. Zoey’s throat burned at the thought of them, and tears dampened her eyelashes. She pushed away from the door. She couldn’t think about them right now. Regret would only make her singing worse.

  She splashed water on her face and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her necklace, designed by Mama, peeked out at the neck of her T-shirt. Butterfly-shaped beads, iridescent pearls, and sea foam green ovals alternated in a pattern that clashed with Zoey’s mostly black wardrobe, but she never took it off.

  If she couldn’t sing good enough for Aurora Fire, maybe she couldn’t sing good enough period. Maybe Mama had been wrong, and no one would ever buy tickets to hear Zoey Harris, Live in Concert. Maybe Zoey would be forever stuck singing in coffeehouses, or garages, or church.

  No. She would succeed with Aurora Fire. She had to. For Mama. Music was the only way to hang on to the memories. Without it, she’d be empty.

  Zoey patted her face dry with a musty-smelling towel and returned for another run-through of torture.

  ~*~

  A week later, after yet another pathetic practice, Zoey hurried out of the Aurora Fire house and into the sunlit evening before the last notes faded from the air. One week until the concert, and she was certain Aurora Fire still regretted their decision.

  She couldn’t get through the lyrics. They gummed up her throat, Bailee shot her hate-filled looks, and Zoey tried not to cry. She kept telling herself they were just words, but too much church had created a voice that disagreed. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Justin correcting Sawyer.

  But she needed this too much to listen.

  She pushed back the strands of hair sticking to her sweaty temples and walked a little faster down the sidewalk. As long as she could bring it Saturday night, then Aurora Fire would know they’d done the right thing.

  When she stepped onto Justin’s street, the faint strains of a song floated to her ears and wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. The familiar melody carried her to his house, but she stopped at the end of the driveway mouthing the lyrics she’d helped Justin compose:

  My heart beats

  Fueled by memories

  Of you

  Every breath

  Keeps me living

  For you

  Not forever gone

  If I fight to live

  For you

  She’d been thinking of Mama when composing that song, and it expressed all the reasons she’d joined Aurora Fire. This opportunity was one step on the way to achieving her dream. She couldn’t fail.

  The music ended, and Zoey entered the garage. Justin’s grin and Sawyer’s glare greeted her.

  The sight was like warmth from a hot pad soothing away her stress. So what if Sawyer was worse than Livvy when she was mad about something? He’d always been that way, and Justin remained his usual, upbeat self. Nothing had changed between the three of them.

  “Hey.” Justin slipped off his guitar and set it on the stand.

  “We’re still practicing.” Sawyer growled the words like warning off an intruder.

  “We’re finished.” Justin stepped around cords and amps to kiss Zoey. His lips touched hers with familiar heat and flavor like mint toothpaste. He always tasted as if he’d just brushed his teeth or used mouthwash, probably because he’d stuck with the brush-your-teeth-after-every-meal rule from his braces days.

  “I’m not finished,” Sawyer said.

  “Then keep playing.” Justin wound his fingers with Zoey’s and led her over to the tan couch facing the practice area.

  Sawyer pounded the drums, probably to be annoying, but the noise gave her and Justin an excuse to sit close.

  “How was practice?” Justin’s breath was hot in her ear. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

  “OK.” She settled next to him, not minding the sticky heat where their bodies touched. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. One of the good things about Justin was he let her be. He didn’t try to talk or kiss her whenever they were together. She could relax.

  “Are those your new lyrics?” Justin asked.

  Zoey opened her eyes and glanced at her papers and water bottle on the opposite end of the couch. She nodded.

  “Can I see them?” He reached across her.

  “No!” Zoey scrambled to block him.

  “Why?” Laughter sparkled in his eyes. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Nothing.” Her heart rate matched Sawyer’s frantic drumming.

  “You said they were good,” Justin reminded her.

  “Yeah, well, they are.” Zoey swallowed. They wouldn’t meet Justin’s definition of good—as in moral. And he’d never understand her compromise. She cocked her head, touched his arm, and smiled. “I just want them to be a surprise for you next weekend.”

  Justin looked at her funny.

  She’d never been good at flirting.

  Sawyer quit drumming and the garage fell into an uneasy quiet.

  “You are coming on Saturday, right?” She dreaded how Justin would react to Aurora Fire’s lyrics, but she wouldn’t survive on stage without Justin in the audience. Watching, listening, grinning. Did believing he’d be supportive no matter what make her selfish?

  “We’ve got our own concert Saturday, remember?” Sawyer didn’t know the definition of supportive.

  Heat crept down her scalp. “Yeah, I remember. But we don’t go on until ten. You’ll be done by then, won’t you?”

  “Yeah. And we’ll be there to hear you,” Justin assured her.

  Zoey gave him a grateful smile.

  “I won’t,” Sawyer muttered.

  “Yeah, he will,” Justin whispered.

  Zoey giggled and cuddled back into his side.

  Sawyer filled the garage with the sound of his drums again. Life was perfect.

  Then the door to the house swung open, and Zoey jerked away from Justin. Not that the
y were doing anything wrong, but his parents acted as though they were guilty of something if they were caught closer than hand-holding distance.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Mrs. Conrad stepped into the garage digging through her purse. She glanced up, eyes widening. “Hi, Zoey. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Hi.” Zoey’s voice squeaked. Goody. Now she sounded guilty too.

  “I need you to babysit.”

  Zoey stopped breathing. Her, babysit? She didn’t know what to do with kids. Losing Mama had stunted her mothering gene. But Mrs. Conrad was speaking to Justin, so Zoey’s pulse slowed.

  “I’m meeting your dad, and we should both be home in an hour or so.” Mrs. Conrad pulled her keys from her purse with a triumphant jingle. “Tristan’s already in bed, though he’s probably not asleep.” Her gaze shifted to Sawyer as if to blame him for Justin’s three-year-old brother still being awake, and then she looked at Justin. “Savannah’s watching TV upstairs.”

  “Uh, sure.” Justin glanced at Zoey and Sawyer.

  “They can stay,” Mrs. Conrad said, “but if Sawyer leaves, so does Zoey.”

  Zoey felt the blush. What did Mrs. Conrad think would happen if she stayed when Sawyer left? She’d willingly compromise the words she sang on stage, but she wouldn’t put those phrases into practice. Not with Justin. Not with anybody.

  “Got it.” Justin managed to say it without sarcasm.

  Zoey couldn’t have.

  “Thanks.” Mrs. Conrad hurried out the open garage door.

  Justin watched her leave, flipping a guitar pick through his fingers. His ever-present grin had disappeared and sadness—no, worry, and a million questions—replaced it.

  “Hey, you coming inside?” Zoey tugged his empty hand, trying to bring him back from whatever land of fear he’d drifted to.

  “Yeah.” Justin smiled as if the thought was gone, but he grabbed Zoey’s hand in a don’t-leave-me kind of grip and pulled her toward the house.

  “I don’t know what your parents’ deal is,” Sawyer said as the three of them crowded through the door and into the kitchen. “It’s like they think I’ll chaperone you. As if you need it. Do they know you at all?”

  “At least they let you stay,” Justin said.

  Zoey had to agree with Sawyer. Justin was the most obedient, trustworthy, godly person she knew, yet his parents acted as if he still needed a babysitter.

  She hoped Mr. and Mrs. Conrad wouldn’t decide to be as supportive as Justin and show up at Aurora Fire’s concert. They’d never let Zoey hang out with Justin again—with or without Sawyer. And she needed Justin. He cheered her up when nothing else in the world could. He loved her when she’d forgotten what love felt like. He reminded her of God and heaven and hope.

  He reminded her of Mama.

  5

  Saints and Sinners

  Sawyer grabbed the vibrating phone off his cluttered desk and yawned. Sunday morning. Justin. Church. He wanted to ignore the buzzing and climb back into bed. Why give up a couple of hours of sleep to listen to people talk about faith and forgiveness, sin and sacrifice?

  Because after all that listening came band practice.

  He yanked on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and headed for the front door.

  Justin’s car idled in front of the house. Sawyer collapsed into the passenger seat squinting in the sunlight.

  “Morning,” Justin said.

  “Why am I awake?”

  “Because church is good for your soul.”

  Sawyer groaned. “It’s way too early for bad jokes.”

  Justin laughed, and Sawyer drowned him out by turning up the radio volume. At this hour, even worship lyrics were better than talking. Sawyer rubbed the tired from his eyes. Back in elementary school, Mom hadn’t given him a choice about church. The Conrads had offered to take him, and if she’d been scheduled to work, that was free babysitting. But now he didn’t need a babysitter.

  And now Justin annoyed him with phone calls and texts if he tried to stay in bed on a Sunday. But Justin was the only person besides Mom who cared about how and where Sawyer wasted his time. So here he was, up before ten, so Justin could believe he’d save Sawyer’s soul. And if heaven existed and Sawyer had a soul, maybe that counted as his good deed.

  And band practice motivated Sawyer to suffer.

  In the teen room at church, Zoey had saved them spots on a couch. Justin put his arm around her shoulders.

  Sawyer suppressed another groan. Wasn’t that against church rules?

  Propping his head on his fist, he tried to pay attention to Brandon, the youth minister. Over the summer, they were studying the Sermon on the Mount. Today, Brandon was talking about peacemakers and sons of God. Whatever that meant, Justin probably had it down. Those words sounded like him. Sawyer, however, would never be accused of either one, not that he cared. He tried not to fall asleep. The study on Revelation had held his interest this past spring; they should discuss demons and dragons again.

  Finally, the bell rang, and everyone stood and stretched, including Sawyer. One forty-five minute Bible lecture down; another hour-and-a-half of praising, praying, and preaching. Then drum time.

  He tapped his index fingers against his thighs, matching the beat in his head.

  “One more thing.” Brandon stopped the mass exodus. “Don’t forget about the concert Justin, Sawyer, and Zoey are doing for us Saturday night in the fellowship hall. You guys have a name?”

  “Not yet.” Justin, acting as the band’s spokesman, admitted that fact without sounding even a little embarrassed. But playing together for almost two years without having a name? Pathetic.

  They discussed names every other week, and the discussion always played out two-against-one. So choosing a band name ended in an argument. But the name was important. People needed to remember it, to want to wear it, to stick it on their bumpers. Not forget it by the next morning—or worse, laugh at it. Which was why they were still a no-name band.

  “Maybe we’ll have one by Saturday,” Justin continued. “But Zoey won’t be there. She was asked to fill-in on vocals with another band for the summer.” He said that as if it were good news.

  “Really?” Brandon looked at Zoey, and she nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “Good for you.”

  A moment of awkward silence passed, and then people continued out the door.

  Sawyer followed Justin and Zoey into the hall. “I don’t know why you’re bragging on her. She’s the one who ditched.”

  “Hey!” Justin spun around, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t ever call her that.”

  Sawyer stepped back. “Call her what? I said she ditched us. What did you think I said?”

  “Oh.” Justin’s face relaxed. “Nothing.”

  “Did you think I said...” The accusation hammered his heart into this throat. His hands tightened into fists. “I wouldn’t call her that. Or anyone else.”

  Both Justin and Zoey frowned.

  “Forget it.” Sawyer shoved past them and stormed down the hall. Sure, Justin was always getting onto him about cussing, but Mom only stopped him from being disrespectful toward women. So he usually avoided girls since most of them made it difficult to remain respectful. Except for Zoey. He’d never had trouble respecting her. He might be ticked off, but she was his friend.

  When he reached the foyer, he paused. He couldn’t exactly leave, since the church was five miles or more from his house, and he didn’t have a car. Which meant he was stuck listening to the sermon. He sighed, then entered the sanctuary and slumped on an empty row.

  “Sawyer? Hi.” A girl in front of him twisted around, her thick, dirty-blonde-colored braid swinging over the back of the pew.

  Felicia Dunn. He groaned inwardly. If only he’d been paying attention. She topped his list of girls to avoid. She’d been flirting with him since the end of the school year but hadn’t picked up on his disinterest. Weird, since he wasn’t subtle.

  “I can’t believe Zoey quit your band,” she said.

&
nbsp; “It’s only for the summer.” Great, now he was justifying Zoey’s decision.

  “But still, that’s not right.”

  “Guess not.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Felicia stood, pulling her friend Kallie Something-or-other up too. “You look lonely.”

  He did? Because he was happy alone, given the alternative.

  Felicia and Kallie forced their way next to him on the pew tripping over his feet. Felicia parked herself next to Sawyer, her knee bumping his.

  Sawyer wrinkled his nose. She stank like unnatural flowers.

  “Are you going to find someone to replace her?” Felicia asked.

  Sawyer squished himself against the armrest. “I don’t know.”

  “Does she just sing?”

  “No, she plays bass.”

  “Oh.” Felicia nodded without a flicker of understanding in her silver eyes. “Bass...that’s sort of like a guitar, isn’t it?”

  “It’s nothing like a guitar,” Sawyer lied. If she wanted to discuss music with him, she should know that kind of thing.

  “What should I play, if I wanted to join your band?”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes. Why did people ask that? Choosing an instrument to join a band was going about it backwards. He had played the drums before he owned a set, Justin created music before he learned to play the guitar, and Zoey started singing before Justin met her. They didn’t randomly assign instruments so they could be a band. The music was a part of each of them, and they became a band because they had to play. And they needed each other.

  Which was why Zoey’s decision had sucker-punched him.

  He crossed his arms. “We’re not taking new people.”

  “Oh.” Felicia pouted for a second—not cute—but then she perked back up twisting right and left in the pew and stirring up the flower stench. “Where are Justin and Zoey?”

  Sawyer sneezed.

  “Bless you. You guys didn’t have a fight, did you? You’ll still be playing Saturday, right?”

  “Yeah, we’ll play, but I don’t think we’ll be worth listening to.”

  “That’s not true.” Felicia planted a hand on his arm. “I bet you’ll be awesome.”