The Hush Society Presents...

by Izzy Matias

  Amber bobs towards us, dripping in seawater. She shakes her body like a wet pup, right beside Benji, and gives him a hug.

  "I’m starting to question the company you keep, Cassie," Benji says, examining his now-wet clothes.

  Amber bursts out laughing. "The same can be said for you lot." She nods in Eric’s direction, and he wipes himself down with a towel. Amber sits in between Benji and Lily. "So, Lily, does Brighton have any extreme sports or activities?"

  Lily’s face registers shock once more. "Extreme sports…?"

  "Amber, stop it," Cassie tuts and swats Amber’s arm. "You’re giving Lily a shock. She’s not used to adrenalin junkies like you."

  "Sorry, Lils." Amber shrugs. "It’s okay if I call you Lils, innit?"

  "Uh, sure." But the way Lily says it makes it seem as if she’s far from certain.

  I take in the beauty around us: the saline aroma, the warm breeze, the sun’s rays, and the sultriness against our skin. I wish the weather were always like this. All that’s missing are some ice-cold bottles of beer.

  I pull out my guitar from its case. Letting the rush of the moment feed my fingers and take over my consciousness, I close my eyes and strum away.

  There’s a song coming on. I stoke the metallic strings, ready to translate this moment into music.

  Eric hums along to my melody and pairs it with rhythmic tapping. My eyes flash open. Benji has his tattered red notebook out—his song-writing pad—and scribbles away. I smile at how in sync we are. There’s something about this place, this new beginning we need to document through song.

  Lily, Amber, and Cassie jump in on the moment, snapping their fingers, and nodding to the beat.

  "What if you switch up those chords from the bridge to the pre-chorus?" Amber suggests and I try it out.

  "Nice, thanks," I say, satisfied at how a simple tweak can elevate a song.

  "You’re welcome," Amber says.

  I’ve never written a song in front of an audience before. If I stop to think about it…it’s terrifying putting out my emotions in public, the same way busking does…and yet, I find myself pushing my limits. Not wishing or comparing myself to others, but actually putting myself out there for who I am.

  A couple of people glance at us from time to time, but the children stop and stare. Their faces are full of wonder. This is the purest form of feedback our music can get; young kids say what’s on their minds, whether or not it hits you gobsmack in the face and topples you over. They say it like it is.

  That’s when I have an idea. I put my guitar on the ground and walk towards the nearest child. He looks like he’s about seven years old.

  "What’s he doing?" Lily asks. Her voice gets softer as I walk farther away.

  "With Cameron, sometimes, you never know," Eric answers.

  The kid looks up from his paper plane and stares at me.

  "Hi. My name is Cameron," I say. "What’s yours?"

  "Adam."

  "It was nice of you to stop and listen to our song, Adam. What did you think of it?"

  "It reminds me of pizza—my favourite food."

  "Oh yeah? I’m glad to hear that. Thanks." I almost ruffle his hair but stop myself. That would definitely make me look like a creeper.

  A loopy smile forms—it’s a different feeling altogether to have honest feedback. He isn’t saying that to please me or to be nice. He doesn’t even realise he’s complimented me in his language.

  I head back towards my mates’ expectant faces. Instead of telling them the why, I say simply, "Adam likes our song."

  Cassie gives me a shy smile before turning her attention to Amber.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon mucking about in the beach mostly at Eric’s wild ideas. We swap stories with each other. Benji films us. Cassie doodles on her sketchpad, but whatever we’re doing, when the time comes, we all stop to marvel at the sunset.

  #

  We arrive at Lily’s place in high spirits, our skin still smelling like the sun. As we head down the road to a more secluded street, we approach a tall brick warehouse with thin, dark blue windows.

  "Don’t tell me—your parents are artists or something," Eric says as we approach a mountainous building.

  "No. Mum’s an environmentalist architect and Dad’s a banker," Lily replies, blushing. "What makes you say that?"

  "He’s stereotyping artists—like it’s our ultimate dream of living in a warehouse or something," Cassie says and rolls her eyes.

  Eric puts his hands up, as if he’s a robber caught in the act.

  "So what is this place?" I blurt out.

  "It’s a converted warehouse," Lily says.

  "Told you!" Eric looks at me, smug. He sticks his tongue out at me.

  "How does that work?" Benji asks.

  "They built them!" Amber responds, shoving Benji to the side. "Obvs."

  "Yes, thanks for pointing that out." Benji laughs.

  "Oi! The equipment!" I chastise Amber. Her mucking around—particularly when directed at Benji—could cause collateral damage to our instruments.

  "What I meant was if they had to build walls to separate the rooms," Benji says.

  "Wait ‘til you see it!" Lily exclaims with pride. She searches her sling bag and her hand emerges with a huge key. It looks like it’s intended to open a large vault, so of course I’m expecting doors relative to the size of the key.

  Lily leads us to the right most corner, stops in front of a small wooden door, and lets us in. Everyone reacts the same way as soon as we step inside: mouths agape, anime eyes, and exclamations of awe.

  There’s a second floor at one corner of the house and the brick walls have been painted white to make the place look bigger than it actually is. The brick archways are covered in multi-coloured, see-through curtains. Most of the ground floor is a united space—no sections between the living area, dining room, work station, and kitchen.

  "I’m in love with your home," Cassie squeals, and her fists are clenched in excitement. "I could marry it right now!"

  My eyes follow her gaze.

  There is art everywhere. I was so busy getting an overall feel of the place that I didn’t notice the abundance of paintings on the walls or the sculptures incorporated into every area of the house. The way they’re positioned makes the house feel homey instead of a posh art gallery.

  "Calm yo’ self, girl!" Amber pats Cassie and then holds her by the shoulders, redirecting her in Lily’s direction.

  "I told you," Eric exclaims again. "Artists always go for the warehouse thing."

  "Oh hush. You’re ruining my moment!" Cassie swats him away and we laugh.

  "Are you sure you’ve got room for us, eh?" Eric teases a still-blushing Lily. Either this is her normal state or she fancies Eric big time. But he’s not one to tone down his cheeky state even if he knows a gal fancies him.

  "Of course. They’re not rooms per se, but, err—we’ve got a loft—it's the extended part of the building. You lads can crash there. As for the ladies, there’s space in my room."

  "Sleepover!" Amber imitates those high-pitched gals in movies.

  After Lily escorts us lads to the loft, the gals head to her room. In an instant, Eric claims one of the couches and jumps on it.

  The loft is a massive sitting room with three worn-out leather couches arranged in a U shape. At the centre is a table with an old gramophone. I gravitate towards it and rummage the dusty boxes with vinyl records in them. Even if the room is messy, it doesn’t feel chaotic; the mess is part of the design. At the far right, a black spiral staircase leads upstairs. Beside the see-through curtains on my right there’s a grand piano. I wonder if Lily plans to use this room as our venue tomorrow night. I can already imagine the set-up.

  Benji paces around the room. "I can’t get a decent Internet signal here."

  Eric, sleeping beauty, snores loud. That was quick.

  I sit on the couch beside him and as soon as I do, the exhaustion of traveling hits me: the heaviness of my legs and the
fatigue weighting my chest. I pull out my acoustic guitar. This room feels like it’s one with music. To have it quiet seems unnatural, so I play.

  Benji huffs about, still irritated about the Internet. "Shoulda brought my portable Wifi unit."

  I laugh. He gives me an odd look then laughs, too. He puts his mobile in his back pocket and jumps on the couch next to me.

  "This is amazing, innit?" Benji says, grinning. He doesn’t have to say what specifically, but I know what he means.

  "Do you think we’re ready?" I ask.

  "I hope so."

  "Our first gig is tomorrow. Excitement should be at the top of my emotional chart right now, but it isn’t."

  "This is our moment, Cameron," Benji says. "I’ll admit that I’m nervous, too. In a big crowd, the stage lights are too bright for you to see anything. But intimate gigs are the scariest."

  "If this blows up, it’ll be my fault."

  "Nah, mate. We’re in this as a team."

  "What if I screw this up?" It’s not that I’m being a downer, but somehow, things with me always find a way of blowing up. I don’t want to disappoint my best mates.

  "You don’t sound like you. Where’s the optimism?"

  I shrug. I don’t try to hide that I’m terrified of our debut tomorrow night. This is my last shot. I want it to be seamless. I want to prove to Cassie that betting on us was the right thing. I want to prove to myself that I can still do this even if I’ve been kicked out of five bands.

  "No matter the outcome," says Benji, "you should be proud you’ve taken a risk as massive as this. You could have quit already, but you didn’t."

  "I just…The Hush Society is a privilege. Can’t believe we got in just like that. Makes me question…"

  "What?"

  "If I’m good enough."

  "’Course you are."

  "We are," I correct him and continue playing. He’s right, of course. We’ve been doing this together for ages…only now we are officially in a band. We’ve always had each others’ backs.

  #

  I wake to the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. My eyes flash open and adjust to the eerie glow of the room. Before I can check if Benji and Eric have risen, the door bolts open.

  "Oi!" Eric yells, startled at the loud bang. Both he and Benji jump up from their couches—we have one each.

  "It’s Lily." Amber’s loud voice cracks as her silhouette dashes in from the doorway. "Cassie’s trying to calm her down, but to no use."

  My pulse beats in my ears. What’s happened?

  "Is Lily all right?" There’s no trace of weariness in Benji’s voice, even if I saw him yawning seconds ago.

  I stand, ready to run back up with Amber, even with my hands shaking.

  "What’s going on?" Eric asks.

  "Lily’s having a panic attack," Amber says. "Cassie and I don’t know what to do to calm her down. I’ve never seen anyone like this before. Her parents are flying in this morning from the Philippines. The mobile signal is dead, so there’s no one to call."

  Why is Lily having a panic attack?

  Benji curses as he hits his mobile on the couch’s armrest.

  "Eric, get this damn thing to work." Benji tosses his mobile to Eric.

  Eric’s stuck in a cloud of sleepiness he’s trying to fight off, so the mobile hits his stomach. "Ouf!" At least that ought to wake him.

  "Cameron and I will see what we can do to help Lily." As we exit the loft, Benji flicks the switch and the lights open.

  The run to Lily’s room is a blur; I can’t focus on anything but the thought of what a panic attack will look like.

  As we come upon a pink door, I expect the worst. In the corner of the room, Lily’s curled up on her bed—a grey mattress on the floor—with her arms around her legs. She’s rocking herself back and forth. Cassie sits beside her, rubs her back whilst murmuring to her with a soft, calm voice.

  "What happened?" Benji is the first to speak up. He kneels down beside Lily’s shaking body. I hover from a distance, not wanting to overwhelm Lily with our presence. Amber stays beside me.

  Cassie looks at Benji, but doesn’t stop rubbing Lily’s back. "She woke me up, telling me she could feel it coming, that something was about to start. She could feel something brewing in her chest."‘This is how it always begins’ she said before she curled up into a corner. I was still sleepy, so it didn't fully hit me what was going on—what was about to happen."

  What was about to start? I wouldn’t know what I’d do if someone woke me up saying that.

  "She told me about her anxiety before, but it's not the first thing that came to mind when she spoke those words," Cassie says. "It was when she started rocking herself back and forth taking deep breaths when I realised she was having a panic attack."

  It’s the first time I hear about someone having a panic attack. Anxiety always seemed like something you felt when you do something you’re scared of, not in the middle of the night. I inch closer to them, but don’t go too close.

  "She kept chanting ‘I’m so scared.’ And that's when I woke Amber to get you guys."

  Maybe I could distract Lily with an outrageous story…something to get her mind off of whatever she’s anxious about. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do at the moment.

  "Then I started panicking. I don't know. I've never experienced this before. I don't know how to help—I normally do. But now I don't. I feel so useless." Cassie tilts her head down.

  I move towards her. She looks like she needs some comfort, too.

  Benji sits beside Lily and pulls her into a hug as Cassie scoots away. Lily’s still shaking. Tears stream down her cheeks. Benji tells Lily something and she responds to him. He rubs her back and continues talking to her.

  Cassie watches them still with a concerned expression. Amber and I sit beside them on the floor. I give Cassie a gentle pat on her shoulder—the one nearest to me—and nod. She sighs, but flashes me a weak smile.

  I don’t think any of us know exactly what to do to help Lily, but I feel we need to be here and I suspect the others do too—like staying is a form of support.

  Eric emerges from the doorway, shaking his head with Benji's mobile in hand. "Still no service." He looks wide-awake now. "Is she any better?"

  My eyes go to his other hand where he's holding my acoustic guitar. I tilt my head as a question, but Eric simply approaches us and hands it to me. He sits beside me and instructs me to, "Play anything."

  I catch on to his intentions—maybe music will change the mood from Lily's panicked state to this prism of hope in the form of music. Amber grabs her acoustic guitar in the corner and hands me an extra guitar plectrum. She grins before we launch into a cover. The Gramophones' "Burn Brighter" is a fleeting song about hope and overcoming the darkness that lies within us. There’s no better song for the moment.

  Amber plucks haunting minor notes while I tap the soundboard of my guitar to add percussion to the melody. As she enters the next stanza, I jump in with the chords and she continues her plucking-slash-strumming. My gaze moves from my fingers to Lily. She stares at us as if she's in a trance. Benji gives us a faint grin. The notes flutter around her brick bedroom walls. Lily’s tight form opens up and she leans against the wall.

  Amber takes the lead on the opening line. I do some backing vocals—my voice a notch higher; the song sounds fuller this way.

  By the time we hit the pre-chorus, everyone but Lily is singing along. Lily’s face registers focus—as long as her demons have been silenced temporarily, the music has done its job.

  Though this performance is not at a sold-out venue, nor in front of a massive crowd, it's my favourite thus far. This rendition of The Gramophones' Grammy-winning song means more than any of the songs I've ever played to anyone. It's helping a gal through a panic attack. It's helping silence the voices in her head.

  This is what music is supposed to do.

  This is what I want to do for the rest of my life: use music to help others.
Not the typical music-helps-me-process-my-experiences sort of thing, but really help others.

  After we hit the final swell of the song, I glance at Lily. She looks more like the girl I know her to be. Amber and I look at each other, expectant. Again, I am clueless as to our next move, so I give Benji a questioning look.

  "Let's have a jam session downstairs," Eric suggests. "It feels kind of claustrophobic in here with everyone."

  "Don't leave me alone," Lily whispers.

  "Of course, not, love. We'll stay up with you all night if we have to." Cassie takes Lily by the hand and we escort her downstairs.

  It’s as if I'm part of some secret spy mission.

  We pass the dim hallway covered in bookshelves. Lily’s parents fly in from Asia tomorrow, so we have the whole converted warehouse to ourselves. We’re going to set it on fire with music.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Eric dashes back inside our loft. The round, dark blue fluorescent lights that hang in the high ceiling above us turn on and he tosses our blankets aside. "I've got an idea," he says. "Benji, I need your help!"

  Benji follows without complaint.

  The more time we spend with Lily, the more she looks more like herself. When all this is over, I want to talk to her about it. As long as she wants to, of course. I want to understand why she feels that way and what triggered it. Thankfully, we know that the company of mates and the presence of music calms her down.

  Eric and Benji return with Amber and Cassie's camping beds. They lay the mattresses beside the couches, as if creating a fort.

  "What's this? A sleepover, ey?" I joke.

  At this statement, Lily perks up, though still a little pale.

  "You gals wouldn't mind if we stay here, would you?" Lily says.

  "Anything to help you, Lils." Amber squeezes Lily's shoulder and plops down on the mattress.

  Cassie puts a record on. Once the needle touches the vinyl, upbeat piano notes envelope the room. This rhythm goes on for a few more stanzas before a male-female duo enters, blending their voices. The piano is replaced with a percussion beat that sounds like fingers snapping.