“Drummers?”
“You’re not thinking about whatever it is your mind obsesses over when you’re trying to fall asleep,” I say, even though at this exact moment I am obsessing, guilt settling in my bones over a tiny penny that never should have been tossed in the first place. Who does that? This is different than flipping over which movie to see or who gets to eat the last slice of pizza. I can’t sit here and look into Stevie’s eyes and know she’s here because that coin landed on tails. Let’s be real. If that coin landed on heads, she’d be out with Drew somewhere much cooler than my basement. In fact, she’d probably be Drew’s girlfriend by now. Who am I kidding, thinking she could be interested in a guy like me? But I can’t tell her. A small part of me clings to the notion that maybe the feeling I have in the pit of my stomach isn’t one-sided. If I tell her, my words won’t come out right and I’ll never know if she feels it too. But I can’t not tell her.
“Thanks, Shane. I think this might work. It’s really cool of you to try and help me,” she says, but it’s not cool. None of this is cool. Sweat breaks out on my forehead and I grab hold of the drumstick to steady my hands. “Can I ask you something?”
She knows. I don’t know how she knows, but she knows. The drumstick shakes in my hand, so I drop it on the rug. My gut churns, like someone kneading raw dough.
“Sure,” I say, but it comes out like a whisper. I can’t look at her.
“Is Drew seeing anyone?”
All at once my nerves disappear, replaced by a pounding in my head. It’s the same feeling I got when Dad watched me and Drew play basketball, Drew sinking every shot and me missing the hoop.
She doesn’t know about the coin toss. She’s into Drew. Of course, she’s into him. This is how it always starts. I sigh as disappointment crashes over me. Like I said, the coin toss doesn’t matter. She’s going to fall for Drew anyway.
“Not right now,” I say, the only words I can manage to squeeze out of my throat.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s…” For a second, desperation takes over and I think of badmouthing him. But that’s not my style. “He doesn’t care about all the annoying cliques at school. He’s really into science fiction, and his band, and he can really sing. And no matter what, he’s always been there for me. He even lets me win at basketball even though he’s much better than me. He’s my best friend.”
Stevie nods and gazes to the side, like she’s picturing Drew.
“Why do you ask?” I regret my question instantly. If she’s hung up on Drew, I don’t want to hear about it.
“No reason,” she says. “Curious, I guess.”
Stevie shouldn’t be here. She’s only here because Drew and I messed with the natural course of the universe. If we didn’t flip that coin, Stevie wouldn’t be wondering why Drew, the guy she actually has a crush on, is ignoring her. She wouldn’t be pumping me for information about him and she certainly wouldn’t be hanging out here, with me. We never should have flipped that coin. It’s not right. It’s wronger than wrong on so many levels and I can’t sit here anymore with a girl who literally takes my breath away knowing that if she knew the truth, she’d hate me. God, I don’t want her to hate me.
“I can’t help you,” I say fast and resolved, because I’m backed into a corner of my own creation. I’m not thinking clearly, terrified to do the right thing and beyond ashamed to do the wrong thing. So I do nothing.
“What?” Stevie snaps her gaze to me, confusion settling on her face. Her nose twitches and her full lips drop toward her chin.
“I just…” I stammer. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Shane, are you okay?” Stevie reaches for my hand, but I pull away like she’s a hot stove. If she touches me, I’m done for and I won’t be able to put an end to this.
“I’m fine.” I stand, throwing the drumstick into the bin and pacing around the studio, pretending to clean up. “Honestly, I don’t even know how I got into All-State last year. Pure luck, I guess. I wouldn’t know the first thing about helping you.”
“Slow down.” Stevie’s brown hair falls past her shoulders and I want so badly to reach out and brush it out of her face. “What’s wrong? You’re practically shaking.”
“I’m just tired,” I say, pulling away from her and walking up the basement steps. She trails behind me, saying nothing. “Seriously. I really am sorry. I’ll see you at the Dark Carnival show.”
I reach the top of the steps and lead Stevie to the front door, even opening it and gesturing for her to leave. Stevie hugs me, and she smells like vanilla ice cream. I don’t want to let her go.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she says in my ear. I nod and she releases her embrace, looking at me like she doesn’t believe me. She shouldn’t. I don’t have the guts to tell her everything she needs to know.
CHAPTER 6
Stevie
“When does the show get going?” I ask, eyeing a makeshift stage in the front of Old Silver Tavern. Shane’s drum set rests under a spotlight, waiting to be played, and a microphone stands tall at the edge of the riser. Amps and speakers line the side, wires snaking along the floor. The restaurant itself is ski-lodge cozy, all wood paneling and white Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling. Booths flank the walls and high-top tables are placed haphazardly around the room making it look more like a night club than a burger joint. Although it’s my first time here, I like the place immediately. Sarah would love it too, but she hasn’t returned my last text. Even though I have the urge to take a photo and message her, I keep my phone tucked neatly in my bag.
“I don’t know,” Ray says. A crowd builds around us, everyone buzzing about the show. Old Silver, as Ray keeps calling it, is even more packed than this afternoon’s football game. The rest of the team isn’t here though. Not their scene according to Ray. She gestures at an office door by the kitchen, right behind the stage. “The guys usually hang out back there. Want to check it out?”
“You sure Drew would be okay with it?” I ask, not wanting to disturb the band if they’re getting ready for the show.
“That depends,” Ray says, her hazel eyes searching my face. “Did you ask Shane about him?”
“I couldn’t find out much, but he did say that Drew’s not seeing anyone right now.”
Ray claps her hands together, a small squeal escaping her lips. I don’t mention what went down that afternoon with Shane. One minute, he was the shy drummer from band trying to help me fall asleep. But then, out of nowhere, he acted like he needed to get away from me, his eyes darting around his studio. Maybe my nosy fingers shouldn’t have gone through his drawings. That’s the moment I keep replaying—me picking up that sketch and the color draining out of Shane’s face.
“We are so going back there, c’mon!” Ray grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd. When we reach the door, she pushes it open slightly, revealing a couple guys in skinny jeans perched on a radiator, messing around with guitars.
“That’s Gabe and Kevin, guitar and bass,” Ray says in my ear. Drew sits at a desk covered in receipts, checking his phone, and Shane’s on the floor drumming on the tile. Ray’s about to push her way into the office when Drew throws his phone clear across the room, smashing it against the wall. Ray’s hand freezes on the doorknob and her eyes go wide.
“Dude, what the hell?” Kevin says, his hand flat on the front of his bass. Shane stands and walks to Drew.
“He’s not coming,” Drew says, staring hard at the receipts.
“He’s talking about his dad,” Ray whispers.
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” she says putting her finger to her lips.
“We should go,” I say, taking a step back, but Ray doesn’t move.
“I’m sure he got tied up with something,” Shane says, putting his hand on Drew’s shoulder. Drew shrugs him off. “I bet he really wanted to be here.”
“Forget him, man,” Gabe says, shaking blond hair out of his face. But Drew doesn’t look at h
im. Instead he glances at Shane.
“If he wanted to be here, he would be here,” Drew says, with an edge to his voice, like they’ve had this conversation before. “You know that.”
“Don’t let this ruin your night,” Shane says, shoving his drumsticks in his back pocket. “Don isn’t perfect, but he’s not the evil guy you make him out to be.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Drew stands, his voice rising, dark hair hanging in his eyes. “He’s not your dad.”
“You’re right, he’s yours.” Shane gets in Drew’s face, his usual quiet demeanor replaced by pure anger. And I don’t blame him. Even though my dad’s never around, he’s still alive like Drew’s dad. My heart aches for Shane and everything he lost. If I were him, Drew’s insensitive comment would throw me into a rage, but he somehow keeps his cool.
“And you know what?” Shane says. “I’d kill for my dad to bail on this show. To get one more second with him, even if I was pissed at him. You don’t get it, Drew. Even if your dad’s not here right now, even if he messed up, he’s here. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Your dad never would have bailed.” Drew towers over Shane. “He’d be out there right now, first row, right in front of the stage. Fuck, he’d be an hour early, psyched to see you play. Yeah, my dad’s physically on the planet but you don’t know what it’s like to be disappointed over and over again by the one person you want to trust most.”
Drew and Shane stare at each other, years of their shared history passing between their eyes.
“We should really go,” I whisper, tugging on Ray’s sleeve.
“Okay,” she says, quietly letting go of the doorknob. Her eyes are watery, but she blinks it away. “I need to talk to him after the show,” she says as we head back to the crowd.
We pass the girls’ bathroom and I nod at the crooked sign, asking, “Gotta pee?”
I need a minute without the din of Old Silver ringing in my head—a few moments of quiet, a reset. Is everyone like this? At parties or even small hangouts, sometimes it becomes too much, like the volume’s turned up too high.
“Nah, meet you out there,” Ray says, and part of me is relieved to be completely alone, a mini break from trying, always trying. Trying to impress, trying to fit in.
Once I’m inside the bathroom, I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. That scene back there was all too familiar. Last year, Dad promised to make it home to Seattle for my band’s winter concert. I had the solo, a sax break during “My Funny Valentine.” I practiced it for hours, perfecting the notes, imagining Dad cheering me on from the audience, so pumped that he would actually be there. But on the night of the show, the plush red seat next to Mom and Joey remained empty, Mom constantly checking her phone. I eyed the back door to the auditorium, certain Dad was about to rush through at any moment. By the time my solo came around, my nerves morphed into nausea, that empty seat like an open mouth laughing at my naïvety. I stood to play my part, my knees buckling beneath me. The whole audience stared at me, the not-important-enough girl, the girl who always comes in second to football. I butchered the entire thing, each note more sour than the last, heat rushing to my cheeks. And now I feel it all again, this time for Drew.
After a quick check in the mirror and one more deep breath, I push open the bathroom door and smack right into him. I jump, my stomach twisting as if he heard my thoughts through the walls.
“Sorry,” Drew mutters, still clearly pissed. He tugs at a ratty T-shirt that hangs over ripped jeans. He’s about to walk past me but I reach out and touch his elbow.
“Are you okay?” My words are small, tentative, like maybe I shouldn’t be saying them. After all, I barely know Drew. He turns, raking his left hand through his hair, his dark eyes finding mine. Ropes and leather cuffs cover his wrist and maybe a small tattoo, but it’s too dark to tell.
“Yeah,” he says softly, then hesitates, his eyes lingering on my face. “Well, no. Not really. My dad … he just bailed. I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow … every time…”
“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like, if that helps at all. I know how it feels, at least.”
“Sucks.” He takes a step closer to me, then hesitates, taking two steps back.
“Try to think about the people who show up, you know? The ones who are here.” I can’t help thinking of Ray and my promise to help her. “You have Shane, and Ray’s so excited to see the show tonight.”
“She is?” Hope springs in Drew’s eyes as he scans the crowd.
“Hey, man,” Shane says, appearing at Drew’s side, holding his baseball hat and drumsticks. His eyebrows knit together as he looks at me, then at Drew, then back at me. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Shane doesn’t exactly look happy to see me. “We start in five.”
Drew shifts his gaze from Shane to me. “Thanks for saying all that.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and heads back to the band.
“Listen, Stevie,” Shane says, his eyes bouncing all over Old Silver, like he’s scared to look at me. I need to apologize for whatever set him off the other day.
“I … um…” I start to say, but I have no idea what I’m about to apologize for.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says, clenching his drumsticks, and I am officially very confused.
“Shane, come on!” someone yells from the back office.
“Sorry,” Shane says, putting the baseball hat on his head. He shoves the drumsticks in his back pocket. “I should go.”
* * *
A quiet cheer grows louder and louder, like a train barreling into a station, as I squeeze next to Ray in front of the stage. She straightens her black miniskirt and shifts on her sandals.
“That was intense,” she yells above the crowd.
“Is Drew always like that?” I ask. “Intense, I mean.”
“He can be. But he’s so many other things. It’s hard to explain, but I miss him. Can’t stop thinking about him,” she says in my ear.
“So talk to him and apologize for the way everything went down last year,” I say, thinking about the excitement that took over Drew’s eyes when I told him Ray was in the audience. Ray nods, and I can almost see her formulating the plan in her head. “I hope Shane’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine,” she says, eyeing the office door. “They fight like that all the time and the next second, they’re inseparable. Drew would literally lay down in traffic for Shane. He worships him.”
“Really?” I would think it’s the other way around. Drew’s the kind of person who can command a room, who makes everyone look up and take notice.
“Drew wishes he had Shane’s talent and smarts, and he thinks Shane is the most stand-up guy, you know? Which he is, by the way.”
“He was kind of weird the other night,” I say carefully, hoping Ray knows the reason Shane acted the way he did and why he’s acting so strange now. “Said he wouldn’t help me with All-State and then asked me to leave.”
“Did he say why?” Ray’s eyebrows furrow, a tiny crease forming in the center.
“Just said he doesn’t know why he got into All-State and wouldn’t know how to help me.”
“He’s being modest. Go back over there next week. Tell him he has to help you.”
“Like, just show up?” I’ve never done anything like that in my life.
“You want this All-State thing, right?” Ray’s eyes are still on the office door, but she quickly glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “If you want something, go after it. Nothing’s going to happen if you sit around and wait.”
Ray’s right. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s why she’s the star kicker of our football team and that’s why she’s here right now, trying to make everything okay with Drew.
All of a sudden, the crowd goes wild as Gabe and Kevin hop on the stage, guitars slung over their backs. Shane walks on next and heads for his set, drumsticks in hand. He catches my eye and smiles, like he didn’t just get into the biggest fight with his bes
t friend, like whatever happened between us back there wasn’t excruciatingly awkward.
Then I see Drew.
He’s changed into a faded black T-shirt that hangs off his tall frame like he couldn’t care less about singing in front of the whole school. But when I look closer, I see the tiniest bit of uncertainty as he grips the microphone and scans the room. His eyes land on me, then shift to Ray.
His whole body relaxes, his shoulders falling as a slow smile stretches across his face. He nods and they look at each other for a couple beats longer, having an entire conversation with their eyes. It’s easy to see how important they once were to each other.
“Hey.” Drew’s voice bounces through the restaurant and everyone screams. “We’re Dark Carnival.” His nostrils flare slightly, and his knuckles get white as he grips the microphone even tighter. Shane taps his drumsticks together four times, counting the band into the first song, a Struts cover. His drumming is like a heartbeat, breathing life into the entire band. Shane’s precise and controlled when he needs to be and lets loose for the fills. As he steps up the tempo, the other guys keep up, the entire band becoming one unified sound.
When Drew starts singing, I swear the entire room collectively gasps. His rich tenor sounds raw and dangerous, and seriously pissed. An impromptu mosh pit forms by the stage.
“Come on!” Ray grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the stage, and in that moment, I realize I’m not trying. I’m laughing and weaving through the crowd, Shane’s drumbeat vibrating in my chest. Maybe Ray’s for real, the kind of friendship that won’t disappear after a week. When we reach the stage, Ray pulls me next to her, the curve of her hips swaying back and forth to the beat.
Drew screams into the microphone as he stomps his boot haphazardly. He’s not trying to be a front man or steal the spotlight, but it doesn’t matter. He’s completely lost in the music, oblivious to the fact that my entire high school is slowly falling even more in love with him.
Where It All Lands Page 19
