More than Music

10

“s**t, I don’t know.” Hector removed his hat, spilling his dark curls, and then shoved it back on again. “We should forget this audition and wait for the next one.”

“The next show won’t be for another year,” Jared said. “We can’t wait that long. And what if they don’t want us next year? No, we have to do it tomorrow.”

“I need to talk to Maddie alone,” Kyle said.

He led me down the driveway, far enough that the others couldn’t hear us. I swallowed hard as I waited for him to speak, preparing for the worst. He stared at the guitar still around my neck and then sighed and swept back the black hair that was always falling in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you played guitar?” “Um…” I stared at the ground. I hated that I’d kept this from him for so long and that he was hurt now because of my omission. But how could I explain that guitar had been my secret all these years? Something that had just been for me. Not my parents. Not my teachers. Not even my friends. I didn’t think Kyle would understand somehow. He wore his entire personality on display and didn’t care what other people thought. It was one of the things I admired most about him.

“I only play when I’m alone, and not seriously or anything,” I said. “I used to play more, but my mom… She didn’t approve. Told me to focus on piano, on violin and clarinet. ‘Real instruments,’ she called them. Probably because she used to play the guitar and that’s how she met my dad…” I trailed off, but Kyle nodded. I’d told him all about my family before. “When I was a kid, she caught me playing her old guitar and nearly smashed the thing. She was drinking, of course. It scared the crap out of me, and after that, it was easier to keep that part of myself hidden. But I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s all right. I get it.” He sighed again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No, I’m terrified.” I choked out a little laugh. “But I also want to help you.”

His face softened a little. “I appreciate that. I really do. But I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re here.”

“Of course it is.” I tried to keep my face blank. Was my attraction to Jared so obvious that even Kyle could see it? I didn’t plan to act on it or anything.

“Is it really? Because we can’t have another Becca situation.”

“What happened with her anyway?”

“She and Jared hooked up about a month ago.” He scowled at his brother, still in the garage. “They both admitted it was a mistake the next day, but it was never the same after that. Becca started drinking more, and she got crazy jealous any time he was with another girl. They’d fight, and then I would smooth things over and then it would happen again. We all hoped she’d get over it, but then she started showing up to rehearsals drunk—if she showed up at all—and well…you saw what happened last night. I don’t think Jared actually expected her to quit the band, but none of us really want her back either.”

“Nothing like that is going to happen with me. Trust me.” Becca’s situation hit a little too close to home, and I was definitely not following in her—or my mother’s—footsteps.

“I know, but…I just don’t want you to get hurt. I love my brother, but he doesn’t do relationships. Promise me you won’t get involved with him, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.” I gave him a smile that was more confident than I was. “And I’ll only be in the band for one day anyway.”

“True…” He gave a reluctant nod, and we went back inside.

“Everything okay?” Jared asked.

“We’re good,” Kyle said. “Let’s hear her play.”

They all looked at me, and I froze. “What? No.”

“Great, a guitar player who won’t play guitar,” Hector muttered.

“Don’t be an ass,” Jared said, hitting a button that lowered the garage door, locking me in with them. “Of course she’ll play.”

The time had come. They were all waiting, and if I was going to be their guitarist tomorrow, I had to show them I could actually do it. There was nowhere for me to run now. I flexed my fingers and placed them on the guitar. They hadn’t told me what to play, and I felt too self-conscious to perform one of their own songs for them, but nothing else came to mind either.

I remembered Carla and Julie’s suggestion earlier, to pretend I was playing for them if I got nervous. If we were sitting on our couch right now, what would they want to hear? Something mellow. Something fun. Something they liked to sing along to. My decision made, I tapped out a beat and started Incubus’s “Wish You Were Here.” It was a perfect choice because right now I did wish they were here with me.

The song was off at first, every chord sounding like it was being ripped from my hands instead of flowing smoothly. Turns out, playing for three hot musicians in their garage-turned-studio was nothing like playing in my apartment for my two best friends. But once I got into it and stopped thinking so much about how they were watching me, my fingers knew what to do. The music poured out of me as it always did, from my body into the guitar, out the amp, and then back to my ears again in a perfect cycle. I never felt this way when I played the violin or clarinet or even the piano. With those instruments, I was precise and controlled and didn’t get lost in the music. Those were work, but this—this was like breathing.