by Emily Lowry
So this was it?
My dream was over?
Mick sighed. Maybe he felt bad for me. “Kid, I’ll tell you what. I’m at Prohibition a lot. You know it?”
Everyone in Evermore’s music scene knew Prohibition. I nodded.
“Get yourself on stage. Play an original song — something with soul. If the crowd connects with you, I’ll know it. And you’ll hear from me. But for now? Get out and let my secretary back in. Too cold for that game.”
I left the office and let his secretary back in. She let a string of curse words fly as I breezed past, but none were particularly inventive or interesting.
Mick thought my music didn’t have soul.
I’d get on the stage at Prohibition as soon as possible and prove him wrong.
3
Hailey
The dart cut through the air and landed in Adam’s forehead with a satisfying thunk. He’d already lost his eye, part of his nose, and his chin to our game of darts. The wall around the dartboard had fared little better. Soon, there wouldn’t be much of his photo left. Especially not if Jordyn had her way.
She snatched another dart, toed the line we taped on the floor, and threw.
Thunk.
“And now he’s blind,” Jordyn said, her navy eyes flashing as she flipped her ash blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “Obviously, if he was stupid enough to lose you, he already was blind.”
Jordyn Jones was the twin sister of Evermore’s star quarterback, Chase Jones. More importantly, she was my best friend. Had been since the day she hit Dylan Ramirez for snatching my juice box at recess. Her actions had earned her a four-minute time out, and my lifelong, undying loyalty.
Jordyn twisted the darts as she pulled them from the board, being sure to do extra damage to Adam’s headshot. “You want to go for another round? This time I’ll knock out his teeth. Then it’ll be really embarrassing when he tries to get you back.”
But he will not try to get me back. I had told Jordyn that Adam and I broke up because he wasn’t prioritizing me. This was true, but I left out the most painful truth: he was using me all along. I was nothing but a shiny accessory to him. And he would have dumped me anyway, in a few months, once he was off to college.
Jordyn curled her lips over her teeth and spoke in a voice I can only describe as wrinkly. “Hailey. Hailey, please take me back. Just one more kiss. I’ll give you a hard candy!”
Back hunched and arms outstretched, she waddled towards me.
I laughed. “Stop that, you look insane!”
It was probably my first genuine laugh since I’d dumped Adam a week ago — or he dumped me, depending on which side you believed. The jury was still out on Click, starting to lean in Adam’s favor. Evermore girls were lining up for a chance to date him like candidates in a talent show. They tried their best lines and their most revealing clothes. As much as Jordyn assured me he would come crawling for me, I knew better.
I had been playing a part, and now my role was over. Final curtain, take a bow.
Seeing me laugh, Jordyn grinned. “There’s my girl. Come on. Let’s get you out of this house and hit Main Street.”
“Is it nice out?” I was hesitant to face the outside world after a week of confining myself to my bedroom with only Ben and Jerry for company.
“Mind numbingly cold, but we’re going.” Jordyn eyed me critically. “Right after you shower and change, that is. Honestly Hails, you look like garbage, if you don’t mind me saying.”
I didn’t mind her saying. She was right. I was an unshowered, sweat suit-clad mess. Plus, there was no arguing with Jordyn. She was taller than me. Stronger too.
It was time to face the world.
Main Street was a pedestrian mall in the middle of Evermore. The street lamps were straight out of the 1950s. The town council refused to have them upgraded, instead paying more and more money each year to keep the vintage aesthetic. I knew this because every time my step dad saw them, he complained that frivolous things like “charming” street lights were increasing his tax bill. This from the man who owned three vacation properties, two of which we only went to for one week a year.
All the shops along Main Street were locally owned and classified as heritage buildings. They wouldn’t let big business move in, no matter how much they were paid. I appreciated that kind of integrity. Main Street was one thing that made Evermore feel like, well, Evermore.
It was cold, late January, but the sky was a clear cornflower blue. Jordyn and I wandered along, arm in arm. She was totally right — I felt much better after a shower, clean clothes and make-up application. It was my armor against the outside world.
Snow was piled into small hills, and kids took turns tobogganing down the hills and through the crowd of bundled up pedestrians. They were careful around seniors — to the point where they would shout “grandpa” or “grandma” if someone was about to cross their path. They were not careful about anyone else. If you were young enough to walk without a cane, they expected you to get out of the way. That was the way it had always been and always would be. I giggled at the memory of Jordyn deliberately ramming into the mayor as a child, hard as she could go.
Jordyn swiftly stepped aside from a renegade tobogganer, snatching his hat off. When he complained, she stuck out her tongue and threw his hat in his face.
“Hey!” The kid squeaked
“Hey yourself!” Jordyn taunted the little boy, her eyes glittering mischievously.
The boy glared, then grinned, sensing Jordyn’s inner child was on the loose. He lobbed a snowball at her and squealed in delight when it hit.
“Why you little…” Jordyn growled playfully, chucking a snowball right back.
This escalated into a huge snowball fight with a dozen eight and nine-year-olds.
I found myself in the middle of the mess, flushed and breathless, getting pelted from all directions.
We did not win.
“Retreat! Retreat!” Jordyn shrieked.
A snowball caught me in the chest. I fell to my knees, clutched my heart, then rolled on my side. I gave the kids the best fake death performance I could pull off, complete with closing my eyes and sticking my tongue out the side of my mouth. They erupted into cheers as I died.
“You win this round,” Jordyn shouted. “But we’ll return. With back up.”
The kids jeered.
Jordyn and I laughed and continued on our stroll. My mood had lightened considerably.
As we were walking, Jordyn clutched my wrist dramatically. “Oh. Oh, please no. Not here. Anywhere but here.”
“What?”
She didn’t need to answer. I looked up to see Jordyn’s twin brother, Chase, with his girlfriend, Abby. At least, I think they were two separate people. They were pressed so tightly together that it was hard to tell where Chase ended and Abby began. Jordyn loved to complain about this, mostly to Chase himself. She loved her brother, and she adored Abby — she was a great girlfriend to him compared to his ex Madi, my cheer squad mate and Jordyn’s least favorite person — but that did not mean she wanted to see them intertwined at every opportunity.
“I preferred Chase when he was single,” Jordyn said flatly.
“I got this.” I walked swiftly to the nearest pile of snow, took a handful, and cradled it into a snowball. Jordyn watched in comic disbelief as I held out a single finger to check the wind, adjusted my stance, then lobbed the snowball through the air.
It landed on Chase’s head and broke, spilling snow down the back of his jacket. There was no love allowed when Hailey Danielson was around.
Chase jerked away from Abby and glared at us. “Hey!”
I pointed at Jordyn as they came over. “She did it.”
“I’m not surprised,” Chase said, shoving Jordyn playfully.
“Throw me under the bus, much?” Jordyn hissed, trying — but failing — to keep the corners of her mouth from turning into a smile. “That was all Hailey.”
I gasped innocently. “I would ne
ver. Do you think I could throw a snowball that well? I probably throw like a girl. But you? You’re related to Chase freakin’ Jones. Star quarterback. I bet that’s rubbed off on you.”
Jordyn glowered, but Abby laughed. I liked Abby. She worked on the school paper and she was covering sports this semester. She had interviewed me recently about an upcoming cheer competition and had been super sweet as I tripped out my answers, tongue tied. I hated interviews.
“Besides killing the mood, what are you two doing?” Abby asked.
“Jordyn thinks I’m being grumpy ‘cause of the whole Adam thing,” I said. “She thought it would cheer me up if she hit Chase with a snowball.”
I was careful not to say too much. Chase and Adam were teammates. I didn’t want to force him to take sides — especially considering Jordyn wouldn’t give him a choice but to take mine.
“Did it?” Chase laughed.
“Verdict’s out,” I said. “Stand still, let’s try again. It’s the only way to be sure.”
He looked at our snow-covered jackets. “Were you practicing on each other?”
Jordyn punched Chase’s shoulder. “That is a most excellent idea. We ran into trouble down the way. Real young punks.”
I narrowed my eyes. “They wouldn’t keep off Jordyn’s lawn.”
“Exactly,” Jordyn said. “I told them we’d be back with backup. And I bet that between the two of you, one of you has a pretty good arm for a snowball fight.”
Chase puffed out his chest. “Well—”
Jordyn grabbed Abby’s hand. “Abby, let’s go!”
They took off. Chase looked in turns shocked, then offended. “Hey! Wait up!”
He ran after them. I was about to follow and claim my revenge, when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It was a shop I hadn’t noticed before and now that I saw it, I wondered how I could have ever missed it. It was a compact brick building that reminded me of an old firehouse — minus the garage. There was no signage except for a neon music note hanging above a red door.
How had I never noticed this place before?
Curious, I pushed the door open.
The enchanting voice of Frank Sinatra greeted me from an old record player. Instruments and accessories filled the tiny shop, which was so cramped that some things were piled on top of each other. An older gentleman sat behind the counter and hummed along to Ol’ Blue Eyes.
“Mind coming in and closing the door, please,” he said. “Weather’s awful for the instruments.”
I closed the door. “Sorry.”
“No need for any of that.” His smile was crooked, the same way my grandpa’s was when he had been around. “Can I help you find anything?”
“I’m just browsing.” I returned the old man’s smile.
“You let me know if you need anything.”
I made my way down the narrow aisles and admired the eclectic connection of new and old. Beautiful brass trumpets in glass display cases sat next to clarinets that looked like they’d seen a lifetime of use. The object that most attracted me, however, was a metronome, made of perfectly polished dark wood. A metronome keeps a steady beat to help keep you in rhythm. Back when I played piano, my teacher had a little black one that sat on top of the instrument, ticking along as I played — but I’d never owned one. Especially not one as beautiful as this.
“Does it still work?” I asked.
“It does.” He eyed me curiously.
“I’ll take it.” Something in me needed to have this metronome, even though I hadn’t touched a piano in years.
The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows. “It’s very expensive, are you—”
“It’s okay. It’s… uh, a gift,” I lied.
“As you say.” He pulled the metronome from the shelf and sat it on a brown piece of paper on the counter. I stood opposite him, watching him wrap my little treasure.
The door opened again and in walked Evermore High’s most infamous student: Trey Carter.
Trey was, unofficially, Evermore’s Most Wanted — in more ways than one. Practically every girl had a crush on Trey Carter in high school, but he refused to date anyone. He never elaborated on why. Most girls were too scared to approach him, and those who did were rebuffed, brutally. My friend Madi, ex-girlfriend of Chase Jones, was rejected publicly after cornering Trey on the quad and putting on a big show. Apparently batting your eyelashes couldn’t get you everything.
If you believed the rumors flying around on Click, Trey was Most Wanted in another way. Supposedly, he’d had a few run-ins with the long arm of the law. Once there was even a short video of an officer escorting him out of the station.
No one knew why.
I realized I had never seen him outside of school — he looked foreign in this environment. He didn’t say hi. Of course he didn’t. It’s not like we ran in the same social crowd or hung out with the same people. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge that anyone else was in the shop.
He looked right past me. Rude and standoffish, but boy was he hot. Tall, dark, handsome. Mysterious.
Unobtainable.
He checked all the teenage dream fantasy boxes. No wonder the girls all secretly wished they could be with Trey Carter. Not that I had ever really thought about it — being with Adam had dominated my entire time at Evermore High.
Until now.
Trey grabbed three packs of guitar strings and tossed them casually on the counter. Each was clearly labeled $15. Trey pulled a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and chucked it on the counter with a nod.
He grabbed the strings and headed for the door.
I didn’t need AP Math to realize what had happened. He was short changing this nice old man.
I cleared my throat as loudly and obnoxiously as I could.
4
Trey
The girl near the counter cleared her throat. “Did you forget something?”
I stopped. Turned.
Hailey Danielson — what was she doing here? I didn’t socialize with the obnoxious Evermore elite, but I recognized our head cheerleader. The golden girl. The person we were all supposed to aspire to be. Give me a break. Why was she in Notes? Probably confused it for a clothing shop.
I scanned her up and down quickly. She was bundled in a designer parka with one of those fluffy hoods. All the rich girls had them. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her long, shiny caramel hair spilled around her shoulders.
Beside her was a metronome that Fuzzy had started to wrap. It looked vintage. A proper antique. Read: way too expensive for a high school kid. The girl had as much taste as her daddy’s credit card could buy. She had looks, too.
Too bad she didn’t have the brains to stay out of my business. Calling me out like that, all holier-than-thou. People usually left me alone, which was the way I liked it.
Hailey looked at the wrinkled twenty, then to me, then back to the twenty. Raised her eyebrows.
I stared her down, towering over her petite frame. When in doubt, intimidate.
“Don’t worry,” she said sarcastically, her eyes flashing. “I’ll pay for them.”
So that’s how it was. Butt into someone else’s business, complain, then play the hero.
I knew her type. Her type had spent their entire lives getting things handed to them and looking down on people like me. Maybe the rest of the world would let her get away with it because she was hot and rich, but I wouldn’t. I was sick of everyone making the same. Freaking. Assumptions.
I hopped back down the two stairs that led into the shop, landing with a heavy thud. I put on my most obnoxious smile and slid up next to her.
5
Hailey
Trey Carter stood shoulder to shoulder with me. Well, I say shoulder to shoulder, but it was more like head to shoulder — he was at least half a foot taller than me. His dark, moody eyes burned down into mine and I felt my legs weaken, like I was standing near the edge of a cliff and about to fall.
But I refused to back down. The shopkeeper was war
m and sweet, and I was not about to let someone like Trey Carter take advantage of him.
“Well?” I said, folding my arms.
A smile played on his lips. “I just wanted to thank you. One person to another.”
Thank me?
“For what?” I said, cagily.
I didn’t quite know what to do in Trey’s presence.
Trey plucked his twenty from the counter. He pulled it tight, and it made a crisp snapping sound. Then he shoved it in his back pocket and inclined his head slightly. “Paying. What a kind offer.”
Before I could snap back with a witty comeback — not that I had one — he was out the door, and I was on the hook.
I could not BELIEVE how rude he was. Who did that? Who just marched into a store, grabbed what they wanted, skipped the line, didn’t pay enough, then waltzed away without a single care in the world? No wonder Click said he had run-ins with the police. I bet those rumors were true. Which would be a first for Click, to be honest.
I turned to ask the shopkeeper if he was ok and was startled to find him chuckling. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m telling you, don’t be so hard on the boy.”
Disbelief, thy name is Hailey Danielson. “You know him?”
“Known the boy for years. He works here when he can, when he’s not watching over his little brother.” He carefully put the metronome in a paper bag and tied it closed with a piece of twine. “I give him a discount on what he needs. Twenty was right. Boy’s got a gift with the guitar.”
A staff discount. So, he was paying full price.
Still, that did not excuse his rudeness — just who did he think he was?
“Believe you me, boy’s got it tough enough without me coming down on him.”
I paid for the metronome, and I insisted on paying full price for the guitar strings too. Whether or not Trey had it tough, right was right.
The weakness in my knees didn’t go away until I left the shop.
