Rhythm & Clues: A Young Adult Novel

by Rachel Shane

  Isla retrieved her keyboard as well as a guitar from a storage closet.

  I backed away from the stage. “No. You’re not doing this.”

  “You need me… Moxie,” she said my name through clenched teeth. “This crowd didn’t come for a piano recital. And besides, I learned Take Me to Church last year. Dad taught it to me.” She gestured to her dad, who stood at the opposite end of the backstage, looking like a big, burly bouncer. Harry took one glance over at us and dropped his hands. His entire body froze.

  “Answer’s still no,” I snarled.

  “Look,” Isla said in a rushed whisper. “I’m not doing this for you—I’m doing it for him.” She nodded toward Gavin.

  Checkmate. “Fine, but you don’t know the arrangement we created. You’ll have to wing it.”

  Isla lifted her guitar. “I’m good at picking up a tune.” She inched toward Gavin. “Think you can lead me?”

  “I have no idea.” His jaw clenched.

  Star Monkey finished their set to wild cheers. After they exited the stage, Gavin carried the keyboard onto the platform and set it up next to a speaker.

  Isla skipped after him. She positioned herself at the mic in front of Gavin. “I’ll be here for backing vocals in case you screw up.”

  “Then I won’t screw up.” I fumbled with the mic, trying to lower it to my level. The lights beat down on me, and sweat beaded on my forehead. Usually in school, I avoided the spotlight. Seeing everyone’s gaze landing on me made my pulse amp. Isla walked over with a smug smile, flipped a lever I hadn’t noticed before, and deconstructed the tube so it fit to my height. “Thanks,” I mumbled so low I hoped she couldn’t hear.

  I pulled the microphone closer to me. “Uh, we’re Backyard Rebels. Or well, two of us are. The other one’s a leach.”

  “Special guest star,” Isla said into her mic.

  I shot a glance at Gavin, ready whenever he was.

  Confused expressions dotting the crowd’s faces. Becca whistled and cheered on the side. Zack Bellinger pushed his way through to a prime spot in front of Isla in the audience. I was surprised he didn’t grab markers and make a quick love sign to her like groupies do at rock concerts. Harry crossed his arms. He didn’t look happy with his daughter.

  Isla waited for Gavin’s cue, pick in her hand, arm poised ready to strike like a tennis player about to serve the ball.

  Gavin hesitantly pressed a note. He played another note, one that didn’t correspond with the first. He held his finger on it for too long. In front of me, people turned their attention to their friends, conversations erupting. We were losing them.

  Isla strummed a note on the guitar, but it didn’t help. Gavin still didn’t join back in.

  He stared at the keyboard as if it were locked in chains. I dropped my hands from the mic and hustled over to him. The crowd threw their hands up in agitation. I guessed “amateur night” usually had a more professional feel when Backyard Rebels wasn’t involved.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him, shielding the mic attached to his keyboard with my hand.

  His fingers curled over the keys, shaking and wavering. “I’m blanking out on the notes.” He peered out at the restless crowd.

  “I can play them.” Isla snuck up behind me.

  “No,” I said to Isla, and then I turned to Gavin. “If I sing, can you compose some kind of background music? I’ll wing the lyrics to match your tune.”

  He bit his lip but nodded.

  I spun around. “Isla, can you follow his lead?”

  “Only covers tonight,” she said. But then her eyes followed to Gavin’s hopeful face. “Fine. I’ll try, but this is crazy.”

  I smiled and spun around to the mic, pulling it close to my lips.

  I stood with the microphone pressed to my lips for a few seconds, contemplating the idea of a witty joke to get the crowd’s attention. But that would have been stalling. So I closed my eyes and the crowd disappeared. Kind of like how I viewed high school.

  “Everything is always black and white,” I sang the lyrics from my first warehouse meeting with Gavin, my voice starting off low. The words flowed out of my mouth, sculpting the tune out of the background music of gabs and boos and “you sucks” coming out of the crowd.

  “Like a dream sequence I cannot fight.” Behind me, neither Gavin nor Isla played any notes.

  “But it might just be my limited sight.” I soldiered on, my voice growing louder, building to a crescendo. The audience was quieting down now, but I kept my eyes shut, feeling the rhythm of the crowd through audio rather than visual.

  “Like a decision with no in between.” Gavin pressed a key on cue, backing my words with a low melodic chain. He stabbed each note as a violinist might pluck out separate strings. None of his notes flowed together. Just as Isla strummed a chord that matched his notes perfectly, his keyboard went silent.

  “It multiplies the things I’ve seen.” I turned to him as I sang, opening up my eyes to meet his. He lifted his chin to me, signaling me onward. I faced the crowd again.

  “And shatters the colorful scheme.” I tapped my foot as Isla plowed on the guitar in wailing chords, matching my every movement.

  “And maybe I always knew.” Gavin joined in, this time delivering notes that matched Isla’s tone in harmony like a chef, desperate to make a gourmet meal out of what little ingredients he had in his kitchen. So haphazard, but it came together to sound decent.

  “That in this black and white world, I’m blue.” I couldn’t hear the crowd anymore, imagining them filing out of the concert hall on tiptoes, not wanting to offend anyone, like people who sneak out of movies. But when I opened my eyes again, everyone was still there, staring up at me. Were we good, or had we dumbfounded them with our complete lack of order?

  By the time the chorus finished, we had a pattern going. My voice still rose above Gavin’s tentative piano playing and served as delicate juxtaposition to Isla’s guitar chords. I turned to her during the third line of the next verse and smiled. She could have tricked us, made us look like assholes up here, but she didn’t. And yeah, her motivations didn’t involve me, but I still felt grateful.

  We finished our song and waited for a reaction from the crowd. They all looked around, unsure if they should admit they liked it or not.

  Finally, I said into the mic, “What? Shocked I don’t need a pole to perform?”

  Zack’s laughter carried over the silence. He whistled and hooted. Then Becca joined, whacking her hands on her clipboard high in the air. Next to her, Isla’s dad, kept his arms crossed, his face fierce, though I didn’t know why. As the crowd began to clap and whistle, Mr. Gibson grabbed the clipboard from Becca’s hands, perused it, and then marched over to the stage.

  The crowd cheered for an encore, a reaction no other band had received. I turned around to smile at Gavin. He pushed his hair back from his face, his mouth open in surprise at our success.

  Isla set her guitar down and fended her dad off by the stairs. Zack rushed to her side, and this time she allowed his help. Isla and her dad argued in whispers, their hands flailing everywhere. Zack nodded along with Isla while Gavin shot me a thumbs up. The stage lights swooped down, casting us in bright spotlights as they probed to the fight going on between Isla and her father.

  “Encore! Encore!” The crowd shouted, illuminated cell phones raised in the air.

  Isla stalked back onto the stage with a pissed off expression on her face. She pushed in front of me and took control of the mic. “Hey guys! Thanks for the support, but each band only gets one song, so that’s it for us. Also, I need to remind the other bands that only covers are allowed.”

  Zack led the crowd in a round of “Boos!”

  I couldn’t understand why Harry wouldn’t grant his daughter permission to play a second original song when the crowd clearly begged for one.

  On the side of the stage, a group of guys started up the steps carrying guitars and drum sticks. They wavered a moment, wondering what we were still doin
g onstage. On their stage. They eyed Harry who nodded at them. I tried to glare at Harry, but he seemed to be avoiding my gaze.

  Gavin folded the keyboard. “They liked it!”

  Isla slung the guitar over her back. “Yeah, no shit. My dad thinks everyone has to like it because I’m his daughter.”

  My stomach sank. That was probably the case.

  The next band replaced us on stage. No one came over to congratulate me, of course, but everyone swarmed Isla, Zack leading the charge. She gave him a brief hug, but then turned her back on him to receive accolades from the rest of the crowd.

  I stayed on the outskirts of Isla’s fandom for a moment, wanting to thank her for sticking it out. For not sabotaging us when she could have. I hoped maybe, just maybe, I’d impressed her for plowing ahead with the song even after Gavin started to choke. But then I second-guessed myself, wondering what I wanted to gain from a conversation with her. I still didn’t trust her as a friend or forgive her for all the heartache she’d put me through, even if I deserved it. So I left before she could spot me waiting for her. Gavin followed me into the back room.

  “I can’t believe it. That was awesome,” he whispered in my ear as we weaved through the packed crowd, searching for a seat.

  A guy lounged on two of the three couch seats, Gavin’s laptop and my purse on the last one. Gavin picked them up and offered me the empty seat, but when I saw Isla eyeing us and trying to break away from her admirers, I grabbed the objects from him and pushed him onto the couch.

  I stood in front of him, trying to act as a mini-bodyguard, but he placed his hands on my hips and tugged. I was so startled by this total destruction of the translucent barrier we always kept between us, that I fell onto his lap, nearly whacking him in his face with my purse.

  I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, but I especially didn’t want to give Gavin the wrong idea. I pressed my palm on Gavin’s chest in a weak effort to push him away. Our hearts raced together, mine just a couple steps ahead of his, as if we were competing in a marathon and I always had a head start.

  “Thank you,” he whispered in my ear, and I twisted my head to the side, facing away from him, watching as Harry grabbed Isla for a chat away from prying eyes. Becca kept glancing at her clipboard and then at me, probably keeping an eye on Gavin while Isla fought with her dad.

  Gavin clamped his fingers around my waist, letting one palm linger on the small of my back. His hand moved away, and at first I was relieved, but when it came back. He caressed my lower back, and it was so wrong, but I didn’t want him to stop. I focused my attention on the walls, trying to read the graffiti. I didn’t want to think about what was happening. Here, with Gavin. Or even just here with the schoolmates I’d hated for so long. I’d never been drunk. With my heart condition, I treated my body as best I could, but I imagined this was how it would feel: blurry and dizzy and out of control.

  II turned to Gavin to tell him this, or maybe tell him something like it. But when I spun around to face him, his smile stretched wider than I’d ever seen. And I smiled too. Because he was happy. Because I’d done that for him.

  The hand on the small of my back suddenly clasped around the side of my hip and he tilted me forward, pressing his forehead against mine. Our lips were too close. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  I flinched away for a brief moment, and as I did, his hair fell into the small space between our foreheads. His arms were still around me, still caressing, and I hated that I couldn’t see his eyes behind the hair. So I lifted my hands and pushed it out of his face. I’d meant to stop there, but I found myself continuing, raking my hands through his soft, silky strands.

  He closed his eyes.

  For a fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of kissing him. It would have been perfect. Which was exactly why it wasn’t. I didn’t want to ruin this good thing by going and hooking up with him. If it got screwed up… it would Gavin a reason to run from me.

  I pulled my hand away. Gavin’s eyes snapped open. The smile on his face melted away and when he saw the look on mine, he frowned. I needed an excuse. A discarded sharpie marker some girls used earlier in the night to inscribe the walls lay on the floor in front of us.

  I bent down and retrieved it, lifting it up with a ta-da grin. Gavin squinted at me in confusion.

  “To autograph this place.”

  I scrambled off his lap and stood over him. “Moxie Crane– Backyard Rebels” joined “Dana wuz here” and “Finn loves Kasey.” I handed the pen to him.

  “Think of it like a business owner hanging their first dollar. We’re marking our territory. Our first concert.” I waved my hands at the wall like I’d just done him a favor by granting him more space.

  Gavin signed his name to the wall. While I capped the pen and returned it to the floor, Isla came in, kicked out the guy relaxing next to Gavin, and sat down. We’d left our mark on this place, but the older insignias faded over the years. New graffiti overwrote it. Isla might imprint Gavin with darker, fresher ink. I didn’t want him to run, but I also didn’t want to fade.

  Present Day

  Outside the library window, Isla’s monster SUV parks in the front spot. I whisper to Sabrina, “So it’s now or never. Do we agree or not?”

  Sabrina shrugs. “I still think it will be much easier if she knows about the clues. We have so many more places to hit. And if we do need to drive all the way to Lockhart…”

  I sigh and pull out the big guns. “Do you feel like your friendship with Isla is strong enough that you want her to know about your parents taking off? Or how they boarded up the house? You know how she gossips.”

  Sabrina groans. “Fine. But you gotta figure out a way to trick her into taking us wherever else we need to go.”

  “Deal,” I say. Besides, Sabrina already did the hard part. She convinced Isla to come pick her and “a friend” up and get us in to see whatever band is playing at the all ages show tonight at The Mermaid Lounge.

  Isla stops short when she spots me, then straightens her posture and stalks toward us. “You could have told me who your friend was, Sabrina.” She pushes out her cheek with her tongue. “My dad said you’re staying over tonight. Is that a trick too? Seems to be your thing because I went to see the band teacher this morning. About his appointment with Gavin? He didn’t know what I was talking about.” She turns around to leave.

  I tug on her shirt. “Isla,” I say. She flicks me away but I keep up after her. “My car died. I really want to see the band tonight. Please. I’ll owe you big time.”

  Her mouth turns up in the corners. “If you owe me, then let me join your band.”

  I grit my teeth. Couldn’t she extract her revenge through humiliation? “I’ll think on it, okay? Why do you want to join my band, anyway? I’m sure Zack would love to jam with you.”

  “Because Gavin has talent, and so do…” She pauses for a moment. I think she’s going to say I have talent too. But she recovers with, “And so do I.” She pushes her hair behind her ear. “If he insists you stay with us, then whatever. Speaking of Gavin. He wasn’t in school today.”

  “Yeah, he’s home sick. That’s why Sabrina can’t stay at her house. He’s…contagious,” I say, trying to steer the subject further away from having to give her a concrete answer.

  Isla’s brow furrows. She opens her mouth to protest, but Sabrina links her arm through hers. “I’m so excited you’re taking us to see Scream Arcade tonight. They’re seriously my favorite.”

  “Scream Parade,” I correct under my breath. “Maybe we can go early?” I say fast to deflect. If I can convince Isla of this, the next step is prodding her into taking us backstage.

  “We can’t go early. I’m not allowed there on a school night, and my dad will freak if he catches me there before the show starts. So we gotta wait until he’s distracted with business-y stuff.” She points her remote at the car and unlocks it.

  Waiting until the club opens at eight will really screw up our timeline. But how can we c
onvince Isla to take us to get the next clues without explaining ourselves. It’s worth a shot. “Hey, Isla. Want a rematch at skee ball? For old times’ sake? We can kill some time before the concert.”

  She laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “I’m not driving all the way to the beach right now. Besides, I’m starving.”

  Great. We need Isla to get us into the club, but she won’t take us there early. Maybe Gavin meant for this, meant for us to wait until tonight to get into Mermaid. I can’t decide if we’re wasting time or following his plan. It’s not like we have any other options right now. Or any other people to chauffeur us around.

  Isla purses her lips. “Maybe we should bring Gavin some chicken soup? Poor guy, sick on the first day of school.”

  “No!” Sabrina and I say too fast. “He’s super contagious,” I correct while Sabrina adds, “And sleeping.”

  Isla nods. “Strange that he’s so sick when he seemed fine on Friday.”

  Right, the date. Something tells me she’s going to bring this up a lot. Woohoo.

  “The backstage area was practically empty,” she continues. “Had the couch all to ourselves.” Her eye twitches, but she doesn’t follow through with the wink.

  Couch. And suddenly it all comes together. Her date was a stop on Gavin’s quest to deposit the clues. “Oh my God. You took him to the Mermaid Lounge on Friday?” I fight a smile.

  Her posture relaxes as if she’s been waiting for me to catch on. “Gavin asked me out after the whole beach escapade.” There’s a singsong lilt to her voice. “He seemed nervous—like he wanted to kiss me but was afraid.”

  I hope nerves had nothing to do with it, but I don’t tell her that. Then again, I know nothing about his relationship with Isla. After all, they did spend a lot of time together during my two-week hiatus from him. And he still did kind of end things with me before they even started. Even though I feel my lips sagging into a frown, I defy as much gravity as I can to compose a smile on my face.