Diamond Heart

by M. A. Hinkle

  I turned to Morgan. “Now I seriously regret not memorizing any Shakespearean monologues, because that’s the only way to express how you’ve wounded me.”

  He shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “I only told her the truth.”

  “I have a reputation to keep up here,” I hissed.

  “So don’t do it.” And even though he was staring straight ahead and his face was vaguely horrified, I could tell he was challenging me. Throwing down the gauntlet. Biting his thumb at me.

  “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.” I stalked off to go sit, but I left a seat between me and Felix for Morgan. I was a good brother, even when I’d been stabbed in the heart.

  WE READ THROUGH the entire play sitting in a circle with lots of questions about what things meant. The only people who got to do anything interesting were the fairy court and the other production kids starting on set design.

  I mostly sat and stewed. Which worked for my performance, I guess, but I was trying not to be good at this.

  Morgan, on the other hand, was having a great time. I expected him to vanish during the parts where he had no lines, but he flipped through the script packet, following along. Sometimes even nodding attentively.

  What was life even.

  NEEDLESS TO SAY, the whole thing did not do much for my mood. By the end of it, I had forgotten about the concert. But as we all stood up, Felix’s friend Sarah came over to us, bouncing her car keys in one hand. Her nametag said, There are no confirmed Latinx characters in Harry Potter, and this makes me angry. “We gotta go if we’re going. Are you guys coming?”

  I expected Morgan’s hard reboot face. But—well, he didn’t seem at ease, but he wasn’t going to pass out either.

  “Are we going?” I asked him.

  Even though he nodded, I thought about pressing the point. He looked—strained. Before I could say anything, the triplets minus one came over, and we got swept along with them toward the parking lot. Or. Well. Morgan did, because Felix started talking to him, and I couldn’t leave Morgan by himself.

  Sarah had a muscle car barely big enough for six people, which meant everyone had to hold their breath to fit. The triplets minus one got the front and middle seat because they knew where we were going, so Morgan, Felix, and I had the back. When Morgan dithered, I shoved him toward the middle seat and claimed the window for myself. Felix settled gingerly into the remaining spot beside Morgan.

  Sarah adjusted her mirrors and checked her blind spots before moving her car. “Is everyone buckled in? Because if you aren’t, we’re not moving.”

  “We’ll be good, Sarah,” said Felix. From him, it was sincere, not sarcastic.

  “We gotta goooo,” said Alex.

  Sarah only pulled out after checking all her mirrors and asking us to watch for approaching cars. I expected everyone to chatter, but once we got on the road, she gestured at Zach, who punched a button on her stereo. The Cameron James album I totally hadn’t been listening to started playing. Felix dropped his head back against the seat like he was sinking into a hot bath, a blissful smile on his face. The triplets minus one were less obvious, but they also weren’t arguing for once.

  As for me, I was not okay with the way we’d been rushed out here. I’d expected a few minutes of coordination time so I could pull Morgan aside and make sure he was okay.

  On one hand, Morgan said he wanted to do this, so I needed to believe him. But I was also aware of what happened when Morgan pushed himself too hard. I joked about him throwing up or having panic attacks because all those things had happened, and talking about them seriously…well, it terrified me the same way a room full of strangers terrified Morgan. Or, say, getting pulled out of summer camp because your father called with news that changed your entire life.

  For example, at our eighth-grade graduation, Morgan had to give a speech. He made it through the entire ceremony with a perfect, cheerful smile featured in all the photographs, but when we got home, I had to call his therapist because he had a panic attack, locked himself in the closet, and refused to come out, even for me.

  Yeah, fine, he was my twin, and I loved him, blah blah blah. Sometimes, I did have feelings, and most of them involved Morgan. He hadn’t ever hurt himself, as far as I knew, but my mother always told me she was past it, and… Well, I knew how that ended.

  The point was, I couldn’t tell if Morgan was coping or not. He was sitting perfectly still, careful not to touch me or Felix, and his expression was fixed—business as usual.

  I relaxed when I realized Felix kept sneaking glances at him. I wasn’t the only person keeping an eye on Morgan, so maybe it would be okay.

  NEEDLESS TO SAY, it wasn’t okay.

  I wasn’t sure about the timeline of the concert, but we made it to our apparent destination by 6:45 and parked in the lot of a generic big-box store, then walked a few blocks. We were out on the edge of town—Cherrywood Grove had swallowed a couple townships as the college expanded, so there were weird breaks between developments. This was supposed to be a shopping hub, but most of the stores were closed. Our destination seemed to be an abandoned strip mall down the way.

  “I take it this is not the kind of concert where we buy tickets?” I asked, to break the silence. Without music playing, I was getting nervous again. I needed to have faith in Morgan and let him spread his wings as the beautiful butterfly he was always meant to be. But breaking open the cocoon early left you with a pile of caterpillar goo.

  “He doesn’t like to,” said Felix. He was walking between me and Morgan and the triplets minus one. “He kind of does shows when he wants. You can buy merch and stuff, but it’s probably all gone by now. And most of it’s bootleg. When he does sell stuff, all the money goes to charity.”

  “I wonder who’s gonna be in the band tonight,” said Zach, stretching his arms over his head.

  “You’re just hoping they’ll be the really gay ones,” said Sarah.

  Zach poked her. “Hey, it is our thing. Also, remember the one time they had the chick on drums? You wouldn’t shut up about her.”

  “I’m also a drummer, and I appreciated her technique,” said Sarah, keeping her face straight ahead.

  “Oh, that’s what you appreciated?” Zach stifled snickers behind his hand.

  “Tell me again why I hang out with a bunch of boys,” Sarah said to no one in particular.

  Felix stepped forward to hang off her arm. “Because I spend time with them, and you love me?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes, but she put her arm around Felix’s shoulders anyway. “No, I want to protect you. It didn’t work, but I can go to God saying I tried.”

  Spending time with people who liked each other was kind of nice. Around Morgan’s old friends—or anyone at Cherrywood Prep, really—I hardly ever talked. If I tried, even if I wasn’t being rude or loud or obnoxious, they’d glance at me as if I was a dog barking at the wall, then go back to sniping at each other.

  No wonder Morgan hated it there.

  I couldn’t appreciate the atmosphere, though, because I was trying to monitor Morgan without making it obvious. He was the same as whenever we went somewhere we hadn’t been a thousand times: tense, alert, wary. I couldn’t tell if it was better or worse than usual.

  As the triplets minus one predicted, there was a line. Not a midnight release of Star Wars line, but a substantial one nonetheless. The crowd was mostly teenagers and college students, although a few adults didn’t seem to be chaperoning anyone.

  “Did we get here early enough, do you think?” Felix whispered as we walked up to the end of it.

  “I think it’ll be cool,” said Alex. “Remember the last time we came, the line was all the way around the block, and we still got in.” He stood on tiptoe so he could see the front. “This is a bigger venue.”

  “Less sketchy too,” said Sarah. “I was afraid of touching anything last time.”

  “Always so conscientious.” Zach was scrolling through his phone.

  “Do not tell me
you are already on Tumblr,” said Sarah, rolling her eyes.

  “Or posting anything geotagged,” said Alex. “The last thing we need is more people showing up. Then he might not perform at all.”

  “Neither, thank you very much.” Zach tossed his dreadlocks over his shoulder. “I was trying to see if there were any rumors about who’s playing. But nope, radio silence.”

  “I don’t see how this is a sustainable business model.” I wasn’t a part of the conversation, but if I kept quiet any longer, I was going to freak out, mostly because Morgan wasn’t freaking out. In my experience, it only meant the hammer would fall harder. “If no one knows who he is except through word of mouth and he doesn’t have an online presence and his shows are a secret, how does anyone find out about him?”

  “Same way you did, I guess,” said Zach, shrugging. “By having someone say shut up and listen to this. But I assume it’s all performance art anyway. He goes months between shows, and he almost never plays the same set twice.”

  “New music emerges from the depths of Tumblr,” Alex added. “One of my friends made a bot to crawl the web so we’d find it first, but the tracks have weird names, and it’s not predictable enough. He never even posts from the same ISP address. You can spoof it, but I have a hard time believing he’s a musical genius and knowledgeable about computers.”

  “I think it’s performance art too,” said Morgan. Everyone, not only me, turned to look at him in surprise. Morgan kept his eyes on his shoes. “He’s not in it for the money. I’ve seen how much his merchandise goes for at these shows, and he’s not turning a profit.”

  “I guess he could be rich and messing with all of us,” said Sarah. “A modern-day Howard Hughes.”

  Before anyone could respond, a shout came from the front of the line. The doors to one of the empty stores were opening.

  “We got here right on time!” said Felix, clapping his hands. “I love it when stuff works out.”

  I wasn’t sure what to expect when we got inside. The windows were boarded over, and the sign had long ago been stolen or taken down. The store had sold clothing at some point—faded sales posters featuring dead-eyed models were still on the wall. A stage had been set up in the back, behind a chain barrier. The only light came from some lamps facing the stage, and string lights hung along the edge of the ceiling.

  As we streamed inside, I could tell it would be a tight fit. It was really loud; nobody was yelling or screaming yet, but a lot of people in a small space, all talking to each other, added up quickly. Bouncers stood in front of the barrier, but everyone came in and smooshed up by the fence to get as close to the stage as possible. Thankfully, Felix was hovering around Morgan, so his band surrounded both of them, and I closed the circle.

  We didn’t have to wait long. A black man carrying an acoustic guitar came up, as though this was an open mic night at a coffee shop and there weren’t three hundred people here to see him. The crowd quieted as he walked around the stage, inspecting the lights and the speakers. He was scrawny and short, with a shaved head, and probably only in his early twenties. I had expected someone more impressive. He wasn’t even wearing anything punk.

  Finally, he sat on the stool in front of the microphone and brushed his fingers over the guitar. Then he pulled the microphone down to his height. “Thanks for being chill, guys. I know you might think I wanted to do an acoustic set on purpose, but actually, I forgot to ask anybody to play with me until two days ago. So we’re starting with me. Maybe if I’m lucky, someone else will show up.” His speaking voice didn’t resemble his singing voice—it was low and mumbly. He connected his guitar to the speakers and strummed. “Yeah, cool. Still not sure what y’all are doing here, but thanks for coming.”

  Then he started singing—a cappella at first, only bringing in his guitar when the chorus hit. I didn’t know the song, but it didn’t matter. It was still amazing.

  When he finished, everyone clapped as politely as though this were one of Morgan’s violin recitals. I assumed this was another Cameron James quirk since no one was holding phones in the air to try to get a picture either. “I guess I should have mentioned what the song is called, but I dunno yet. You’d think I’d learn to stop playing songs when I haven’t picked a name, but I don’t have my shit together enough to pick a band and stick with it. Or a genre of music.” He bent over his guitar, his eyes narrowing. “I wish music had movie genres, because I would do epic fantasy and write an entire concept album about Lord of the Rings. I guess I could do it anyway, but it’s on the list. Along with writing an actual album instead of being like, here’s a song.” He shrugged. “But, yeah, here’s a song.”

  This one was faster and more upbeat; everyone clapped along. Even me, because as far as I could tell, Morgan was focused on the stage. He actually let Felix hang off him, though Felix stumbled away when he realized he’d grabbed Morgan and not Sarah.

  Midway through the third song, the back door crashed open. Cameron James stopped playing. “Oh, I guess my band showed up after all. Shut up for a second, guys. I’m in the middle of something.” He continued the song as if he hadn’t stopped. When he finished, the other members of his band came on stage to adjust speakers and set up the drum kit. “Guess I was my own opening act tonight. Hang on a couple minutes, and we’ll have…more fun. Or whatever you call it at concerts.”

  The crowd started chattering again. Felix, hanging off Zach, sighed and leaned his head against Zach’s shoulder. “I mean, I’m glad there’s gonna be songs we know, but I was enjoying myself.”

  “It’s your gay band after all, Zach,” said Sarah, squinting at the stage.

  Zach sniffed. “I told you, I don’t care. I thought he always switched bands.”

  “He can’t always switch or he’d run out of musicians,” said Alex. He was squinting at his phone. “The problem with concerts is I can’t take a voice memo on my phone, and typing out the notes is hard.”

  Felix dropped Zach to cling onto Alex. Alex shifted to accommodate his weight without appearing to notice. “Lemme see, lemme see.”

  “It’s a good thing Alex’s not driving, because we’d never get home if he’s got another song in his head,” said Sarah. “Jeez, it’s hot in here.” She swept her hair away from the back of her neck. “Hey. You. The normal brother. Have you got a spare hair tie?”

  Morgan froze, and I tensed, waiting for the freak out. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t carry extras. But Gar does.”

  I did actually keep one in my wallet, in case I wanted to skateboard or something. I passed it to Sarah.

  “You call him Gar?” said Felix. “Like Beast Boy!”

  Sarah inspected the hair tie and shrugged. “Any port in a storm, I guess.”

  “I keep telling you, you should do the undercut thing all the cool lesbians are doing these days,” said Zach.

  “Please. I’m not a hipster. And I’m not going to change my style to signal to other gay girls. If they want me, they can come find me.”

  “Only they won’t because you have a girlfriend now, right?” said Felix. He let go of Alex but didn’t reach for Sarah, who had stiffened.

  “There’s a girl I’m seeing,” she said. “But she’s not my girlfriend. I know you’re as pure as the driven snow, Felix, and therefore inexperienced, but sometimes it’s not so easy.”

  “I wish you guys would stop talking about me that way,” said Felix, but not seriously. “I’m sixteen years late to this first crush thing, but—” He clapped his hands over his mouth.

  Everyone else froze, except Morgan. He’d already been standing still as a statue.

  Felix flopped against Alex. “Please sing the song you’re working on and save me from my humiliation.”

  Alex sighed, putting his arm around Felix’s shoulders. “My orientation is supposed to spare me from drama, and yet here I am.” He cleared his throat and hummed a hook in a major key.

  Sarah’s head snapped up. “I’m calling dibs. I want it for the lesbian song.�
��

  “Did I miss the memo?” I asked. “Is there only allowed to be one? Somebody better tell Hayley Kiyoko she’s out of a job.”

  Everyone glanced at me as though they’d forgotten I was there. Good thing I was used to it.

  “There will be more lesbian songs eventually,” said Zach, when no one else volunteered. “But right now, we’re working our way through the alphabet. Sarah has not, in fact, used her dibs, so she gets it. She writes all the lyrics anyway.”

  “The alphabet?” At this point, I couldn’t not ask.

  “You know, the sandwich. As in ‘A Is Not for Ally,’” said Zach.

  Felix ducked out of Alex’s hold and sang, “A is not for ally. It stands for asexuality.”

  “Is this a serious concept or hyperbole?” Morgan asked.

  “Some of column A, some of column B,” said Alex, shrugging. “It started as a joke. Then we decided, actually, we’ve got shit we want to say, so we might as well do it in a song.”

  “Or I decided it, because Alex had all these song concepts he wasn’t doing anything with,” said Sarah.

  Alex shrugged. “Everyone knows the greatest works of art are collaborations.”

  “Shh!” Zach said, standing up straighter. “They’re back.”

  The rest of the crowd hushed too as they figured it out. Cameron James returned to the stage, now with an electric guitar. “Sorry I took a while, but we’ve done this once, so. We’re gonna jam now, which is good because I suck at talking.” He adjusted the microphone and then strummed his guitar. “Yeah, okay, cool. Try not to be dicks, though, guys. This place is small. If we can all keep being cool, it’d be—cool, I guess.” He shook his head and turned to speak to the bassist. He also had a keyboard player and a drummer. All of them were black and belonged in some sweet Afrofuturist music video.

  Anyway. Cameron James snapped his fingers to set the beat, and then they launched into the song Felix played me in the hallway. It was good over cell phone speakers and amazing through headphones, but it was mind-blowing live. Cameron James played the main guitar part without any apparent effort, nodding along to the beat as his fingers moved all over the frets.