The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  "Fuck you. I’m awesome." I playfully shove Benji.

  "That’s the spirit!" Eric encourages, but Benji just laughs.

  Benji turns to me with a somber expression and then says, "I’m bloody serious, Cameron. You have to."

  "I know," I say. And I do know; he’s right, but it ain’t going to be easy.

  "And we’ll do the same." Benji glances at Eric who feigns shock.

  "Whatchu talkin’ bout?" Eric says in disbelief, mimicking a horrible American accent.

  "Mr. Stroppy," I point out, and we laugh.

  "We’re going on tour," Eric shouts, jumping up and down, his voice echoing around the meadow.

  "We ain’t just mates anymore…We’re band mates," I say with a goofy grin.

  "That’s horrible!" Eric tells me, referring to my joke, as Benji cracks up.

  It has been a long time coming.

  #

  THIS is what it is like to be in the flow: I completely zonk out and lose track of what's around me. I forget the worry, the negativity, and the doubt.

  The now is all we have. I swim in the stream of consciousness created and fuelled by the music. I press my fingers against the metallic strings of my green Squier Telecaster electric guitar. This is the first expensive thing I ever saved up for, with the money I got from my part-time jobs.

  The first thing that comes into view from Eric’s basement stairs is the big black leather couch that takes up most of the left side of the room. The couch faces a flat plasma telly with gadgets—the surround-sound system, Wii, and Xbox. Another wall features a display of instruments: cellos, violins, a 1960 vintage guitar, a bass and Eric’s beloved Premier drum kit. But what I love most about this room is the wall covered in CD racks. It houses a massive collection of music. Eric's a versatile listener.

  Standing atop the two-inch carpeted stage beside the door, we jam to whatever we feel like. The pulse slows as we approach the last movement of the song. Our instruments go from a loud scream into a whisper.

  There's barely a moment of silence before Eric transitions to a random beat. Benji and I take quick breathers, but Eric continues on. He adds more structure to his drumming, like searching for the right tone. He points to us and in an instant, Benji enters with a raw, looping bass line that compliments Eric's melody. A warm energy surrounds my chest. My fingers itch to play.

  "Play the riff you were telling us about earlier," Eric says the moment I join them.

  "It's not yet done," I shout over the music.

  "Doesn't matter," he replies.

  We build up a fort of heavy bass lines, funky beats, and experimental riffs.

  The pulse of this song—if it can be called a song at this stage—dominates me.

  Lewis and I were supposed to be recording a demo this summer, so I have loads of ideas. Since he cut the cord, I haven't shared those ideas with anyone…

  But being here with my best mates, it’s like what Nate was saying. At least now I’m playing music not just talking about playing.

  A bubble forms in my chest. It grows bigger and bigger as the pressure hits my bones and my heart rate speeds up.

  It has always felt so right playing music with my best mates. With them, there's no bull. We say our take on things. We push each other. That's what I like. We used to swap our demos and critique them. If it was utter shite, we said it.

  When we jam, we choose a song we love, take it apart, and make it our own. It's fun to see the different possibilities of how one song can be tweaked to sound like something totally different.

  Now I have to start opening up to people again about my music. It’s not easy to share your ideas only to have people shut them down. They’re my best mates, which should make it easier, but it isn’t. It’s frightening.

  Commit or quit.

  I nod, then play my riff. The tone of the song changes from its edgy nature into a more soulful tone. I want to transcend genres—not just your typical indie rock, but funk, soul, and edge. It reminds me of the stripped version of LANY’s "ILYSB."

  Eric and Benji tighten the melody as I adjust my voice to match their rhythm.

  Eric's tempo increases. Benji and I follow along.

  The bridge is approaching.

  I inhale deep before I burst back into song. Doubt and fear threaten the spark. Don’t let them keep you in the dark, lest you live with regrets, what ifs. Now, tell, me, are you ready for the cliff?

  I let the moment take me. I pop and lock, swing my arms around like a hip-hop dancer, just 'cause. Yeah. I'm feelin' it.

  In this moment, I’ve never felt more proud to have Benji and Eric back me up. I trust them with my music.

  The music pumps through my veins; the adrenalin consumes my body, my soul. We carry the beat faster this time.

  We are a volcano ready to erupt.

  As we hit the final chorus, we explode into a thousand pieces of glass and end on a high note. I turn around to face them. We've got massive grins on our faces. That was brilliant. I want to do it again.

  So we do.

  We go on for another hour or so. I haven't kept track of the time. When I check my mobile, it registers the time: it’s almost five in the afternoon. We've been down here for over three hours.

  I should be tired, but the high and adrenalin from surrendering ourselves to the music has me floating.

  Who would have thought that the solution to having no band was to ask my best mates? It’s absolutely ace that we can turn a simple idea, a simple melody into something more. I can’t wait to figure out our sound as a band. I don’t ever want to go back to the mundane if I’m able to live in moments where nothing but the music matters. If only I could have this excellent feeling on loop. Nine-year-old me would be so proud.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Just like the day before, we spend most of our time in Eric’s basement. It was another day full of music, and video games. Aside from keeping up with my part-time jobs, most of my days are either at Eric’s basement or Benji’s band room practising for our first tour. Judy and Nate were thrilled at my progress in a few short weeks—from losing two bands to forming one with my best friends.

  Benji stands up, and pockets his mobile and announces he’s leaving. He lives a few streets away from Eric. We nod at him, not looking away from the telly.

  Aside from the violent sounds blaring from the surround sound speakers, our fingers add a different kind of noise with the forceful way we handle the controllers.

  "Use one of the potions to extinguish the blaze!" I yell at Eric.

  We’re a ridiculous sight: two teenagers yelling at the telly whilst drinking a cuppa. This moment is reminiscent of the countless times Benji and I crashed at Eric’s. Our video game sessions began with an accompaniment of numerous boiling teapots and overflowing cuppas since we were too young for anything else. Once we transitioned to a new era of life, we began experimenting with cheap spirits.

  My left thigh vibrates and I press the wrong buttons on the console. Eric curses at my mistake.

  I grab my mobile—the cause of the error. There’s an unread message from Cassie. We’ve been chatting the whole day.

  I tune out Eric’s whines and open the message.

  Cassie: You’re a gamer?

  Me: Just another item to add on the list of things I’m horrible at.

  I smile, and continue typing.

  Me: Eric’s gone bonkers I accidentally stunned him.

  Cassie: You really are horrible.

  Me: I told ya :)

  Why did I send her a smiley when she hasn’t sent one back? Agh. How does Eric flirt with girls? It’s not like I can ask Tamara for help about things like these. She’ll only tease me. Speaking of, which…

  Me: He’ll get over it. Do you have any siblings?

  Cassie: Not that I know of.

  Me: Haha! Only child then?

  Cassie: Actually, Mum’s up the duff.

  Ha. My fingers fire away.

  Me: Bluff!

  Cassie: How can
you tell? We are miles away.

  I hold back a laugh, but keep on smiling.

  Me: My BS radar is unfiltered.

  "If you’re going to stare at your mobile grinning all the time, we might as well quit the game," Eric says with a dramatic flair and flops on the couch behind us.

  "Thought you’d be more supportive with my progress," I say.

  "Not after you stunned me!"

  We burst out laughing.

  "Who you chatting to anyway?" He raises an eyebrow and repositions himself on the couch—on his stomach. His chin rests on both his palms and his eyes have a mischievous glint to them. "Hope this means you’re courtin’ a lass!"

  I put my mobile down and tighten my lips.

  "Oi!" He shoves my shoulder. "It’s the least I ask of you, since you’re living with me until who knows when. No secrets in this household."

  His house has six massive bedrooms—one for his Mum, another for him, then his sister, and three guest rooms. One of the three guest rooms is my new home.

  "Why don’t you go chat up the latest lass you’re courtin’!" I say.

  "I’m off to grab a snack. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me." Eric dodges my question, bows, then heads up the stairs. "Don’t think I won’t have figured it out when I come back."

  Since he’s left me, I glance down at my mobile to read Cassie’s latest message.

  Cassie: Do you have any brothers or sisters?

  Me: Two. My sister’s older by three years and my brother is nine.

  Cassie: What is it like to have siblings? Your house must be lively all the time.

  Oh boy. That’s a loaded question.

  Me: They’re both geniuses. I’m the only one disturbing the peace at home.

  Cassie: You’re the life of the party then.

  I chuckle.

  Me: Hardly.

  Me: How does it feel to be an only child?

  Cassie: All right, I guess.

  Me: Liar.

  Cassie: It can get too quiet and lonely…that’s why I need music on full blast.

  Me: The right way to listen to music.

  Cassie: Haha.

  Me: You must have pretty cool parents who let you listen to music at max volume.

  Cassie: There’s loads of space around the house and I make sure to have my solo concerts at the right time.

  Me: I may have a solution for when it gets lonely

  Cassie: Pray tell

  Me: You need a party during those moments

  Cassie: Are you saying that you’re the solution?

  Me: ;)

  Eric enters the room. "Ready to confess yet?" When I don’t answer, his grin turns into a smirk. "It’s Cassie, innit?"

  I sigh.

  "I knew it!" He jumps on me, knocking my mobile to the floor.

  "Oi!" I shove him to the floor and reach for my mobile.

  "Lover boy." Eric teases, getting up from the ground.

  My mobile vibrates once more. Another message from Cassie. I keep it in my pocket.

  "I told you. No secrets in this household," he says, satisfied.

  "You’re absolutely sure that your Mum’s all right with me staying with you for a while?" I ask, not really wanting to talk about Cassie to anyone yet.

  "Mate, you’re like a brother to me," Eric says and sits beside me. He offers me a bowl of crisps, which I accept. "‘If you haven’t already noticed, it’s not like she’s home enough to notice how long you’ll be here."

  "Still out on those business trips a lot, ey?" I ask taking another crisp. "Thought it was this week only." The night I arrived at his house, his mum was loading the last of her luggage into her BMW. After checking up on us and making sure our food situation was covered, she said her good-byes.

  The video game’s ominous audio plays on loop—albeit at a lower volume. The air down here is cooler compared to the rest of the house.

  "More than ever," Eric says in a tone that implies this has been the fact for the last couple of months. "She’s home for a couple of days every other week."

  "I thought she was doing better?" I ask. The divorce has been hard on all of them, especially his mum, but the last couple of weeks I’d been over, she was always home and seemed happier.

  "That is her definition of better. She’d rather bury her denial and pain by swamping herself with work, rather than facing the changes here at home. My sister’s the same way…except she floods herself with slumber parties and ‘social interactions.’"

  I’d also only seen Eric’s sister a handful of times since I started occupying one of their guest rooms. The times I did see her, she’d have a couple of mates over, so we’d never had a chance to have a proper chat.

  "She’ll come to terms with it in her own way," Eric says. "She’d rather talk to her mates than me, but least she has them to talk to about it. You know how much of a pain in the arse I was when I found out that Mum and Dad split up."

  "A total diva," I reply, smiling.

  "Only at first." He grins back. Eric was a bloody mess when his Mum kicked his Dad out of the house. He was constantly having rows with her. If he wasn’t sulking in his room, blasting hardcore music, and necking down the bottles his Dad had left in his bar cabinet, he’d drag us out with him. We couldn’t go out often especially since we were preparing for our A-Levels, so on some nights, he’d go off on his own.

  "Your sister took it so much better than you did," I say, teasing him. "I’m really glad you were able to emerge out of that dark hole."

  "We know who to thank for that," he says grabbing another handful of crisps. In between the crunching he continues. "But I have music to thank, aside from you lads. Didn’t notice until Benji pointed it out one time. You know how he helps out those kids at the youth rehabilitation centre? Said he saw the same transformation with me… How I somehow managed to use my negative emotions as fuel, how I transformed that negativity into something positive with my drumming. Bones and Ashes is no more, but at that time, my band helped get me through some tough times. Music became that healthy outlet for my darkness." He taps at the bowl of crisps as if it’s his drum kit, and smirks.

  I give his back a gentle pat.

  I appreciate him telling me that I’ll get through this rough patch with my family, but I don’t know how music is going to mend it. Music is the cause of this riff.

  I glance at my mobile and catch a preview of Cassie’s message. She asks which sibling is my favourite, if I do have any favourites. There’s no way I can tell her about getting kicked out of the house. What will she think of me then?

  "Right now," Eric says, "things seem unfixable or like you might not be able to mend your relationship with your Dad. He’s always been a hard egg to crack, but he’ll come around."

  "What if he doesn’t?" I say, setting my mobile aside.

  "Come on, mate. Even if he had the oddest way of showing it—or in your case, not showing it—you know he cares about you."

  "Since when have you been so good at giving advice?" I quip.

  Eric laughs. "After a decade of having your best mates yap at you about seeing the silver lining in every situation, it catches on after a while."

  "We’ve brainwashed you," I say with a mischievous smile and rub my hands together.

  "Give your Dad some space," Eric reiterates. "He’ll come around."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mum rings me every day to check up on me. Sometimes we meet up ‘round Beverley, but after a week without me at home, she convinced me to come by the house when Dad’s at work. I do miss home, so I visit every day in between my part-time jobs, even if only for an hour. Today is the last of these kinds of days for a while.

  My old guitar case is sprawled open on the floor. I stuff my dark cotton shirts, trousers, and leather boots—whatever I can carry with me for the rest of the summer—in a duffel bag next to my guitar case. All I really need are my guitars and I’m good to go. Mumford & Sons are on full blast. I imagine my bedroom walls vibrate in sync to the beat.
<
br />   These last couple of weeks at Eric’s, we’ve spent all our time practicing for the tour. We’ve had complete focus on delivering a tight set at our debut in Brighton. Once we get there, we’ll be staying with Lily—the hub manager of Brighton—who is also debuting The Hush Society in her house. I’m told it’s a converted warehouse.

  We couldn’t decide on a band name for weeks, but yesterday had a breakthrough. After hours of arguing, we decided on The Fortunate Only. It’s a line from Benji’s favorite song, and somehow it just stuck.

  I pack light since we’ve all chipped in money—based on Cassie’s forecasted expenses—to rent a van for the summer tour with each of us taking turns driving. Though our first stop is in Brighton, we are to meet in Manchester since Cassie, Ella, Dan, and Amber live there.

  When I told the lads at URadio about my decision to leave, they offered to let me keep my job when I came back. But I declined; I have to commit to musicianship full time. "It’ll be waiting for you in case you change your mind," the head of URadio said. Judy and Nate promised to come watch at least one of my gigs, and in turn, I promised to put them on the guest list.

  "It’s not fair, is it?" Tamara’s usually loud voice is soft. I didn’t hear the door open.

  She’s been angry with me ever since my announcement—even after I was kicked out. Mum and Dad were at wars, too.

  I glance at her boot-faced expression and wonder if she is here to pick a fight with me. My shoulders tense up as I face her.

  "I’ve thought a lot about this life-changing decision of yours." She walks over and moves my acoustic guitar to make room for her as she sits on top of my bed.

  "And?" I ask, hopeful.

  "It’s not fair I get to go after what I want and you don’t. I get that now, but I wish there was a way that it didn’t have to make our parents go into a massive fit or get you turfed out of the house." She says, folding the shirts on my bed.

  I sit down beside her. "Don’t you think I feel the same? I hate it. I absolutely hate it when they fight, but I need to do this for me. It sounds selfish, I know."