Betrayal of the Band

by Sarah Tipton

  “It’s not fair.” Justin’s ten-year-old sister tumbled off a chair. “It’s not dark out. Why can’t I stay up like Justin?”

  Be quiet, Savannah. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten stuck at home because his little sister had scored sympathy points. Forget about him being nine years older than Savannah.

  “You don’t have to sleep.” Mom’s voice had a tired, compromising tone that indicated she wanted to sleep. “You can read in bed.”

  Savannah stomped past Justin.

  “Can I give Sawyer a ride home and stop by Zoey’s?” Justin asked.

  Dad glanced at his watch. “It’s a little late.”

  “I’ll be back by midnight.”

  Dad’s mouth twisted to one side in a half-frown. Why did he have to act like the question was difficult? “All right. But make sure you’re home on time.”

  “I will.” Justin hurried back down the stairs. When had he ever broken curfew? Never.

  Maybe it was his choice of friends that made his parents strict. He and Sawyer had been friends since kindergarten, but Sawyer looked like a rule breaker with the silver barbell in his eyebrow and the gauges in his ears. Sawyer’s mom only had three rules: Sawyer had to let her know where he was, he had to graduate from high school, and no getting a tattoo. They argued about the tattoo regularly.

  If Justin ever mentioned a tattoo to his parents, he’d be grounded until he graduated from college.

  He crossed the yard to his car and slid into the driver’s seat. The car speakers blasted Christian heavy metal from Sawyer’s phone.

  “Took you long enough,” Sawyer said.

  Without bothering to answer, Justin squinted at Alaska’s midnight sun, slipped on his sunglasses, and drove toward Sawyer’s house.

  He dropped off Sawyer, switched the music to his own playlist—a mixture of Christian pop and rock—and drove to Zoey’s house. He parked in the driveway behind Zoey and Livvy’s green car and stared at the split-level, flipping a black guitar pick back and forth through his fingers.

  His insides felt like a loose guitar string vibrating wrong. But he had nothing to worry about. She’d have a good explanation for not telling him about missing practice or answering his texts. He’d only sent three, so she’d know he cared but wouldn’t feel smothered. Because all his parents’ books on relationships said that was important.

  Be caring, not controlling.

  Be interested, not indifferent.

  Justin wouldn’t make his dad’s mistakes. He marched up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

  A few seconds later, the door opened.

  “Justin, hi.” Livvy’s voice swung up in a question. Probably because of how late it was. Everyone knew about his curfew.

  “Hey. Is Zoey home?”

  “Yeah. Come in. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” He crossed the shoe-littered, Arctic entry and took the stairs down to the Harris’s family room. Zoey and Livvy’s gray-striped cat, Tiger, streaked past him, running the opposite direction—up the stairs.

  He settled on the overstuffed couch. The furniture in Zoey’s house reminded him of their practice space—worn and comfortable. Next to his garage, this was his favorite hangout. Of course, here it smelled better, like vanilla and cinnamon.

  Zoey clattered down the stairs and around the corner, her purple-streaked black hair hanging loose down her back. One look at her brown eyes, dulled with something like worry, and he choked on a smile.

  “Hey, you weren’t at the devo tonight or practice.” He tried not to sound accusing.

  “Yeah.” She wound her necklace around her finger and unwound it. “Um, I have something to tell you.”

  “OK.” His heart thudded crushing the air from his lungs. Had she been avoiding him? Because right now, she definitely avoided meeting his gaze. Maybe he’d rather not know.

  “Tonight, I was, um...” She stared at the floor.

  Had she been out with someone else? Was she breaking up with him?

  Her head popped up, and she stared him square in the eye. “I was practicing with another band.”

  His heart stopped as if it had been unplugged. “You’ve joined another band?”

  “Yeah. Aurora Fire. I met them last night at a karaoke thing at the Downstairs Coffeehouse.” The words tumbled out of Zoey’s mouth like a guitar solo played too fast.

  Justin stared at her.

  “Their lead singer left for the summer, so they need someone to fill in. They liked my voice and asked me to practice with them tonight.” She paused to catch her breath, her eyes wide and unblinking, pleading for him to share her excitement.

  What was he supposed to say? He slid his hand into his pocket and dug the edges of his pick into his calloused fingers. She was leaving him for another band.

  Not him exactly, but him and Sawyer.

  “I’m so sorry.” The pleading was now in her voice. “I know I should’ve told you right away, but I didn’t know how. It’s only for the summer, though, and this is a really good opportunity for me. They’ve already got several gigs lined up.”

  Her words crawled inside him like poison. Death. Killing him. He couldn’t lose her. And refusing her the freedom to sing with Aurora Fire would be the quickest way to lose her. So Justin forced down the argument swelling inside him. “Several gigs, huh? That does sound good.”

  “I know, right?” She almost smiled but held it back as if she didn’t quite believe Justin’s sincerity.

  But he was doing everything right, wasn’t he? Maybe he needed to be more enthusiastic.

  “I think it will be good for you, and Sawyer too, after the summer,” Zoey continued. “If people like my singing, then they might want to hear us when I’m back with you guys.”

  “If people like you?” He took Zoey’s hand and entwined his fingers with hers.

  She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t tighten her fingers around his either.

  “Of course, they’ll like you.” Was he really giving her a pep talk to encourage her to leave their band? “And just because you’re playing with them doesn’t mean you can’t play with us too.”

  “I’ll be practicing with them a lot to learn their music, and I’ll need to rest my voice in between. But I can still play bass with you guys.”

  Learn their music… rest my voice…She’d be singing someone else’s songs.

  “And there’s one more thing. Their first gig is two weeks from Saturday, and I know we were supposed to play for the youth group that night...” The hesitance returned to her voice.

  “Hey, no problem.” Justin forced the words past his dry throat. “Sawyer and I will figure something out.”

  “So you’re really OK with this?”

  No, don’t do it. He stared at their clasped hands and then looked up fighting the urge to squash her hopefulness. “Yeah. It sounds really good for you.”

  “I should’ve realized you’d be happy for me.” Zoey smiled and took two steps closer.

  “Of course I am.” He’d act happy about anything if it made her smile as if he was her hero. “Besides, maybe it’s part of God’s plan for your music career.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Her happiness dimmed as if she didn’t believe him. Or in God’s plan.

  “Tell me about Aurora Fire.” Justin dropped onto the couch, pulling Zoey down too.

  She settled next to him and told him about this other band’s music, the house they shared, the guys.

  Justin forced a grin and willed himself to hide his fears.

  Please, Lord, make me happy for her.

  3

  Watching the Bottom Fall

  Sawyer stood at the kitchen sink and scrubbed a dirty plate. A drum solo blasted through his earbuds begging him to join in. He lifted his hands out of the sink and played the air drums, soap suds spraying the tiny kitchen. Skills with the sticks was the only thing Sawyer’s dad had left behind seventeen years ago.

  He only knew three things about his dad: his name
was Toby Sawyer, he was a drummer, and he couldn’t handle having a kid. But someday, Toby Sawyer would see the name ‘Sawyer Mahon’ listed as a band’s drummer. Then he’d call or email, and Sawyer would tell him off. Sawyer and his mom hadn’t needed—would never need—Toby Sawyer in their lives.

  The drum solo ended, and Sawyer plunged his hands into the soapy water.

  Someone tapped his shoulder.

  Sawyer spun around, swearing and ripping the earbuds out of his ears.

  “Don’t say that.” Justin gave his usual response.

  “Don’t go sneaking up on people.”

  “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”

  Not much argument for that. Except to remember to lock the door.

  Sawyer faced the sink and swiped the dishcloth over a dinner plate.

  “Doing chores?” Justin asked.

  “Just washing dishes.” At Sawyer’s, no one made a chore list. He and Mom just did what needed to be done. They took care of each other. Sawyer yanked the drain plug and led Justin the five feet into the living room. “You talk to Zoey?”

  “Yeah.” Justin flopped onto the couch. “She’s filling in on lead vocals for this band—Aurora Fire—and she had practice with them tonight.”

  “She’s ditching us?” Sawyer’s disbelief rose from his gut. He leaned against the edge of his living room window and stared at Justin.

  “Not exactly.” Justin stretched his arms across the back of the floral couch, calm and chill. As if he hadn’t just found out their band was screwed.

  This news stank as bad as the still-present stench of his microwaved burrito dinner. When Zoey hadn’t shown up earlier, Sawyer figured she had some stupid girl reason. Like dying her hair or painting her nails or cramps. Not that Zoey ever skipped practice for a stupid girl reason—that’s why she was the only girl besides his mom he could stand to be around for more than five minutes—but she was still a girl. And girls were annoying, frustrating, and unpredictable.

  Sawyer hammered his fists against the wall. This was why band members shouldn’t date. They worried more about each other’s feelings than about the music. He swore.

  “Don’t say that.”

  Sawyer ignored Justin and stepped away from the window. Heat bubbled inside him like lava. How could Justin just sit there? It was his band too, and his girlfriend who was ditching them. Sawyer kicked a leg of the scarred coffee table. A dumpster rescue like most of the furniture, it wasn’t hurt by a little abuse.

  “It’s just for the summer,” Justin said.

  Sawyer plopped down on the red chair that matched the couch only in shabbiness. “Just the summer? Summer’s our best time. We can practice all day long.”

  “And Zoey can still practice with us, when she’s free.”

  “What about next Saturday?” He narrowed his eyes already suspecting the answer. “Will she be playing with us?”

  “No.” The confidence in Justin’s voice faded. “Her first concert with Aurora Fire is that night.”

  “Right. We finally get a chance to play in public, and we have to cancel.”

  “We don’t have to cancel. We can play without her.”

  “Seriously?” Sawyer tapped his heels against the faded beige carpet. Every muscle twitched, as if he’d been binge drinking caffeine supplements.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s our vocalist.” An instrumental riff was one thing, but an entire set without lyrics would be lame. “We could replace her.”

  Justin frowned. Finally, some negative emotion from the guy.

  “Just for the summer.” Sawyer raised his voice in a mocking falsetto trying to push Justin over to the dark side. Way back in kindergarten, Justin had arranged search parties to hunt down the gold at the end of the rainbow, and he hadn’t grown out of believing in fairytales.

  “Let it go, man. This can be good for us too.” Justin flipped a guitar pick across his knuckles.

  “How? We’ll have more free time?”

  “No. If people like Zoey, they’ll follow her back to us.”

  “Sure they will.” Just another one of Justin’s fairytales. This year they’d be seniors. They needed this summer to play, to perform, to prove themselves as a band. If they failed, Justin and Zoey would be off to college. No one, including Mom, expected that of Sawyer. Drums were his only chance at a future. But what good was a drummer without a band?

  “Have some faith. God will work things out for all of us.”

  Sawyer pounded his heels a little faster. God, Justin’s never-gonna-do-anything-about-it solution.

  Faith was as practical as hunting down the leprechaun’s gold.

  To his left, the front door opened banging against a dining table chair.

  Mom walked in, the sun glowing off her pale blonde hair. She wrestled her key out of the lock. “Hi, boys.” The key freed, she shut the door and sat in the corner of the couch opposite Justin.

  Sawyer deepened his scowl.

  “Hi, Lexi,” Justin said.

  “What’s wrong?” She glanced back and forth between them. “You two look like your favorite band broke up.”

  Yeah, that sounded about right. “Our band broke up.”

  “We did not.” Justin’s voice was tight.

  A tremor of pleasure ran through Sawyer at the cracking of Justin’s life-is-perfect attitude.

  “What happened?” Mom’s concern eased the tension in Sawyer’s muscles. She cared about their band.

  “Zoey quit.”

  “Zoey?” She looked at Justin. “Your Zoey?”

  “Do you know any other Zoeys, Mom?”

  “She didn’t quit.” Justin sounded tired of repeating himself. “She’s just with another band for the summer.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows shot up like her voice.

  At last, someone sounded surprised.

  “Apparently, her loyalty doesn’t go very deep,” Sawyer muttered.

  “It’s a good opportunity for her,” Justin spoke through clenched teeth.

  About time he showed some annoyance, though it was probably directed at Sawyer, not Zoey.

  “You’re a very good boyfriend.” Mom sounded wistful.

  Sawyer rolled his eyes. Everybody loved Justin. The perfect son. The perfect student. The perfect boyfriend. Only because the guy could write music and shred a guitar did Sawyer stay friends with him. That and because Justin put up with all of Sawyer’s crap. The guy was the perfect friend too.

  Mom glanced at the microwave clock a few feet away in the kitchen. “It’s almost midnight. You going home or staying the night, Justin?”

  “Going.” Justin stood and looked at Sawyer. “Practice tomorrow?”

  “After I get off work.” Bagging groceries cut into practice time, but he had to support his music and drumming habits.

  “See ya later, then.” Justin let himself out.

  “You don’t look very happy.” Mom directed her tired attention at Sawyer.

  “Gold star.” Wasn’t as if he was trying to hide it. Sawyer drummed his fingers on the chair arms. “Zoey didn’t tell us about leaving or nothing. She just didn’t show.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sounded more disappointed than Justin had.

  “Yeah. Whatever.” He blew out a sigh.

  “What are you working tomorrow?”

  “Ten to four.”

  “I don’t go in until one. I can walk or call Gina if you want to take the car.”

  “Thanks.” Bagging groceries couldn’t pay for music, drums, and a car. Though apparently at Justin’s house, chores covered all three.

  “I’m exhausted.” She stood, stretching and yawning. “Watch the clock and don’t stay up too late.”

  “I won’t.” At least, he wouldn’t intend to. With the barely-setting summer sun, he sometimes forgot to go to bed. Not smart if he had work the next day.

  “’Night.” Mom headed to her room.

  Sawyer moved to the couch and grabbed the remote. He jabbed a button. What w
ould happen to their band? He didn’t want to answer that question. They could play without Zoey, right? He changed channels. Like a drummer and a guitarist without a vocalist would be a big hit.

  They could replace Zoey, but finding someone with the musical talent and a voice like hers would be impossible.

  He switched off the TV and went to his room. After turning on the stereo low enough not to bother Mom, he tried to clear his mind with push-ups. But the only thing that became clear was that Zoey had ditched them—him.

  He’d make sure she realized her mistake and came back. Because without her, he didn’t have a band. And without a band, he had nothing.

  4

  The Hunger

  Zoey hit the next-to-the-last note strong, a perfect blending with Aurora Fire’s playing, but on the last word, her voice cracked. The final chord and cymbal crash faded too soon, and her coughs echoed through Aurora Fire’s basement.

  “She’s butchering the music with that pathetic coughing.” Bailee, with her sparkling diamond nose-stud, sat on the stained green couch. Aurora Fire’s groupie and judge.

  “Shut up, Bailee.” Vance spoke through clenched teeth. “No talking during practice.”

  Zoey raised her water bottle to her mouth. Her hands shook and the water sloshed. Her second practice with Aurora Fire, and she was butchering the songs. The lyrics—dark, depressing, creepy—were good, but some words caught in her throat. Words that made her blush. Words she hoped Mama couldn’t hear in heaven.

  The Aurora Fire guys cast narrow-eyed looks her way. Vance twisted a dial on an amp; shaved-headed Travis held his hands poised over the keyboard; Bailee’s boyfriend, Myles, twirled his drumsticks; Devin fingered chords on a shiny bass Zoey envied. Their fidgeting and frowns declared their doubts.

  She had to prove herself. She would prove herself. With another sip of water, she swallowed her own doubts.

  “You OK?” Vance asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

  Zoey nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Next song—‘Legends of Death,’” Vance said.

  Zoey licked her lips and found the right lyric sheet.

  Myles led them in. When Zoey heard her cue, she joined, her words clear and certain, and she managed not to cough or stumble over a single word—because she didn’t even try to sing the ones she usually choked on.