by Sarah Tipton
Ignite
“I didn’t change the meanings.” Zoey watched Vance scan her lyrics sheets. She held her breath, but not because the practice space in Aurora Fire’s basement smelled mustier and weirder than usual. “In some places I had to change words, but in others, I just deleted ones I’m having trouble with.”
Vance studied the lyrics and Zoey studied him. Her stomach clenched so tight the psychotic moths inside couldn’t flutter. He would hate her changes.
Finally, he glanced up, shrugged, and handed the papers back. “Looks fine. If you can sing them...”
“I can. Thanks.” Did that mean he was OK with it?
He swept his gaze around at the rest of the band.
Travis and Devin were talking about some girls they’d hooked up with. Or maybe the same girl. Zoey couldn’t follow.
Bailee’s spot on the couch sat empty releasing some of Zoey’s nerves. The absence was like a gift from God. Maybe He did care about her performance tonight.
“We’ve got two hours before we’ve gotta pack up our gear,” Vance said. “Let’s play.”
They played through their set, and Zoey sang her version of the lyrics. Every word left her mouth, strong, powerful, without a single cough or stutter.
“You actually might pull it off,” Myles said when they took a break. He sounded surprised but still cautious.
“Thanks.” She bit back her smile. That was the closest thing to a compliment any of the guys had given her.
After practicing, they packed up the amps, instruments, and cords, and loaded a van with the words “Tundra Heating and Thawing” painted over in white.
“You riding with us?” Vance shut the rear van doors.
“I’ll drive myself.” She waved at Livvy’s car by the curb.
“See you there.” He climbed into the driver’s seat. Myles rode with him while Devin and Travis got in a beat-up old car.
Zoey walked to her car. Practice went great, but didn’t actors have some saying about a bad rehearsal meant a good performance and a good rehearsal meant a bad performance? Did that apply to bands too?
Please, God, don’t let me fail Mama.
She turned the key in the ignition, and a blast of lukewarm air hit her face fluttering her black and pink hair. She’d re-dyed it for the concert.
The clock read 8:02. Justin and Sawyer would be playing now.
Sawyer.
A fluttering kicked off in her stomach, but it wasn’t the psychotic moths. This fluttering was new, different. She’d first felt it two seconds before her lips touched Sawyer’s. Two seconds before her toes curled. Two seconds before she’d destroyed her relationship with Justin.
She collapsed against the driver’s seat and squeezed her eyes shut. Why had she kissed Sawyer? Because he was sympathetic? So was Justin. Justin had supported her singing with Aurora Fire. Sawyer hadn’t.
But Sawyer understood. He would’ve bailed on their band too. And he believed she could blow everyone away.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Justin loved her. He believed in her. He told her how great her voice was. She needed that. She needed him. So she had to do what Sawyer said.
Forget the kiss. Forget the flutters. Forget the curling toes.
Forget Sawyer.
Or lose Justin.
~*~
Zoey paced in a corner of the tiny room at the back of The Polar Den twirling her necklace and sipping from a water bottle. Across the room, Bailee sprawled across Myles in a threadbare chair that might’ve been blue a couple decades ago. Vance sat on the edge of a scarred table, his fingers forming chords on an invisible guitar. Devin and Travis were out in the club hitting on girls.
She kept moving in a tight circle because if she stopped, her knees would give out.
Livvy had texted, and she and Dad were in the crowd. What about Justin? Zoey hadn’t seen him out there, and he hadn’t texted he’d arrived. Of course, she hadn’t responded to any of his messages earlier. But she wanted—no, needed him there with his reassuring grin cheering her on. She was so incredibly selfish. After Sawyer, she had no right to see Justin.
“Hey.” A hand landed on her shoulder.
She yelped and spun around her heart threatening to explode out of her chest.
“Get a grip.” Vance stepped back. “You want more water?”
She raised the bottle. It was empty. When had that happened? “Uh, sure. Thanks.”
“I’ll get you another one.” He headed for the door. “Do something to calm yourself down.”
“OK.”
Only one thing, or person, could relax her. Even if it made her the lousiest human being on earth, she didn’t have a choice. She pulled out her cell with a shaky hand and texted Justin. He responded promising to be there in 30 minutes, and a few of the psychotic moths died.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
“What?”
She jumped again at Vance’s voice. “Um, nothing.”
“You look like you’re going to puke.” He handed her a bottle of water. “Don’t do that in here.”
That sounded like Sawyer’s comforting pre-concert pep-talk. The reminder was not helping. The only way she’d succeed at forgetting was to never see or think about him again. Was that even possible?
Travis and Devin walked into the room.
“Ten minutes,” Travis announced.
She slipped out the door to use the restroom. Too bad she couldn’t flush her nervousness down the toilet. But she’d never thrown up before getting on stage, and she wouldn’t tonight.
Her phone beeped as she washed her hands. Hurrying back to the room, she read the message.
Here. Waiting to C U.
Her thumbs tapped out a reply.
Thanks.
She hesitated.
Luv U.
She meant it too. Kissing Sawyer hadn’t changed how she felt about Justin.
A few minutes later, she walked on the stage with Aurora Fire. Vance spoke to the crowd, but she only half-listened. The bright lights blinded. She searched the audience trying not to squint. Justin would be somewhere she could see him, but everyone blended together like one of those search-and-find pictures. If he’d worn a red and white striped hat, he might be easier to see. Finally, she spotted him.
He grinned, his gaze focused on her and no one else.
Behind her, Myles counted in the first song.
All her guilty thoughts vanished on the first beat, replaced by the music. The words exploded from the depths of her soul. Through all the hours of practice, she’d concentrated only on hitting the notes, never really listening to herself. Now it was as if she heard the lyrics for the first time.
“Dragged my heart through flames.”
“Revenge, ice in my veins.”
“An army of those you destroyed.”
Her lungs ached, pain mixing with the words. The songs turned her into a hypocrite. This was what Justin would feel if he ever found out about the kiss. She poured her regret into the mic and flooded the room with her remorse.
After the set ended, Vance thanked the crowd again, and the room filled with screams and cheers.
Zoey sought Justin’s face again.
His arms were raised over his head, and he mouthed, “You were awesome.”
She forced a smile. Her usual performance high hadn’t come. Singing had sucked out all her energy. She exited the stage, arms and legs limp.
“You came through.” Vance jabbed his finger at her, relaxed and smiling for the first time since he’d recruited her at the Downstairs Coffeehouse. “I didn’t think you would, but you did.”
“Yeah, you were good,” Travis echoed.
“Thanks.” The word came long and slow, almost floating on a sigh. She’d done it. She’d earned her place. She left the backstage and hurried to the front of the club.
Justin wrapped her in a hug and warmed her ear with his breath. “You were awesome.”
She melted against his familiar side. He was the guy she belonged with.
“Want me to help you guys pack up? My parents extended my curfew tonight, so I can give you a ride home too.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got Livvy’s car, and I’m exhausted.” Through the crowd she spotted Dad and Livvy. Dad flashed a cheesy thumbs up sign.
“Please?” His begging sounded playful instead of carrying the desperate note Zoey had heard too often lately. “If I don’t take advantage of the extra hour, my parents might not let me have it again.”
“OK. Stay, help.” She tilted her chin hugging his waist. On second thought, she didn’t want him to leave anytime soon.
“Thanks.”
She stretched up and kissed him, tasting his minty mouth.
But her toes didn’t curl and nothing fluttered.
13
Hello, Don’t Go
Justin pulled into the church parking lot at five after ten on Sunday morning. If his parents found out he’d arrived late, they’d blame Zoey’s concert. But he wasn’t late because he’d slept in. He wasn’t late because of the rain pelting his windshield. He was late because of Sawyer.
Sawyer had been too lazy to get out of bed. Justin had parked outside Sawyer’s house, texted him, and called him, but Sawyer hadn’t answered. First Zoey had avoided him. Now Sawyer. Maybe Justin needed to rethink his communication, or his friends, or his deodorant. Justin jogged through the rain, into the church, down the hall, and to the teen room. Cardio workout complete.
“Justin’s here. We can start.” Brandon, the youth minister, spoke teasingly, but Justin hoped Brandon wouldn’t report the tardiness. “Thought after last night you’d gotten a record deal and left us.”
“Not me.” Justin crossed the room and sat on the couch next to Zoey. “But maybe that’s why Sawyer couldn’t come.”
“Sawyer’s not with you?” Zoey rolled the beads at her neck.
“Nope. Wouldn’t respond to my texts.”
“Good.” Zoey dropped her hands into her lap.
“Good?” What kind of response was that? Sawyer was skipping church and band practice. Not good.
“I just meant...” Her eyes clouded for a moment, then widened. “Hey, have you met Chey Michaels? She just moved here.” Zoey squished back against the couch.
The girl next to Zoey leaned forward.
“Chey, this is Justin. My boyfriend.” Zoey slid her hand into Justin’s, and the muscles across his shoulders unwound.
“Hey.” Chey lifted a lace, fingerless-gloved hand in a wave and gave him a half smile. A tiny diamond stud glittered just below the left corner of her mouth.
“Hi.” He returned the wave and looked at Zoey. “You wanna come over later? Hang out?”
“Sure.” She smiled. Not that trying-to-pretend-everything’s-OK smile she’d worn since joining Aurora Fire. But a real smile. A nothing-would-make-me-happier smile. “I’ll go home for my bass and meet you.”
“Sweet.” Justin rubbed his thumb across the tiny bones in Zoey’s hand, warmth flooding him. Maybe with her first Aurora Fire performance over, they’d return to normal.
~*~
Justin watched for Zoey through the half-open garage door. Rain darkened the concrete driveway and the edge of the garage floor, but it kept the room cool. He strummed a few chords, still searching for the lyrics of the new song. What would Zoey add with the bass?
Movement under the garage door caught his eye—Zoey’s purple shoes and bass case. A few seconds later, she ducked under the door, her hair wet from the rain. She straightened glancing around the garage, her gaze finally resting on Justin. “Just you?”
“Yeah.” He set his guitar aside and stood. “I asked Sawyer, but he said he was busy. Want me to ask again?”
“No!” She spoke too loud, and the word echoed through the garage.
“OK.” Yesterday, Sawyer snapped at every mention of Zoey, now she was acting the same way. “Did something happen between you two?”
“No.” The word sprang fast and sharp from Zoey’s lips. She dropped to her knees in front of her bass case and clicked open the latches. Her hair hung down hiding her face like a black-and-pink curtain.
“I know he’s been giving you a hard time about joining Aurora Fire—”
“Yes, he has.” Zoey flung her hair back. She sounded surprised, maybe relieved, as if she hadn’t realized until that moment how Sawyer had treated her. “And I don’t want to deal with that today.”
“OK.” Playing would be better without their sniping. And he’d be alone with Zoey. He’d missed that. He needed that—her.
She plugged into an amp and sat on the forest green chair facing Justin’s ottoman.
“I’ve been working on something new.” Justin picked up his electric guitar.
“Really? I wanna hear.”
As he played, Zoey tapped against the shiny, black face of her bass, her body swaying with the music. His music. Their music.
He played each chord with confidence.
“I like it,” Zoey said when the song ended. “Any words for me?”
Justin’s heart quickened, and he glanced at the upside-down stack of papers. “Just the chorus.”
“Can I see?”
“Not yet.”
“All right.” Her grin blasted heat through him. “Play it again, and I’ll add my part.”
He began the melody. Why hadn’t he shown her the chorus? Zoey helped write lyrics. She also sang them. But for some reason, he wasn’t ready to share. They felt too fresh, too real.
“Repeat that.” Zoey interrupted his thoughts and his playing. “I can come up with something better.”
They worked on new music for a while, before switching to old favorites. Zoey stood, singing the songs they’d created together.
He drank in the sound as if starved.
Yet, like every practice over the past week and a half, something was missing. Only this time, it was Sawyer and his drums. Without all three of them in harmony, the music couldn’t satisfy. “I’m going to call Sawyer again.” He reached for his phone.
“Don’t.” Zoey dropped onto the chair and grabbed his hand.
He looked at her trying to interpret her pleading. “It just doesn’t sound right without him. Or you.”
Her fingers tightened around his hand. She licked her lips. Her breaths came in short, rapid bursts. “We haven’t hung out much lately, and I’ve got to be at work in an hour. So, please, just you and me.”
He stared at her feeling the racing pulse in her hand. Did she really miss hanging out with just him, or was it something else? “What’s going on, Zoey?”
“Nothing.” She let go of his hand. “Why can’t it just be us? Playing music. Together.”
“Because we’re a band. The three of us, we play music together.”
“Not last night. Last night, you and Sawyer played. Today, it’s you and me. Can’t that be enough?”
“No.” Two of them—any two—wasn’t enough.
“Fine.” Zoey walked over to her bass case. “I think I’ll go to work early.”
“Are you forcing me to choose between you and Sawyer?”
“What if you had to?” Zoey spun around. “If you had to choose, me or Sawyer, who would you pick?”
His throat tightened like a D-string had been wrapped around his neck. “Why?”
“Who would you choose?” Her voice echoed the fierce look in her eyes.
“To play with?”
“Yes.”
“You.” The answer would always be Zoey. Sawyer was his best friend. Zoey was his life.
Tears pooled in Zoey’s eyes.
“Zoey, what’s wrong?” He tugged her close, wrapped her in a hug.
“Nothing, I...” She relaxed against his chest. “I guess I still feel bad about abandoning you for Aurora Fire.”
“It’s only for the summer, right?”
“Yeah. Two more months. Then I’ll be playing with you again.” She stepped back and wiped her palms across her cheeks. Then she picked up her bass.
“I’m sorry. Let’s play. I’ve still got an hour.”
“OK.” Justin sat on the ottoman, picked up his bass, and tried to figure out what had just happened. If he really had to choose between Zoey and Sawyer, he’d die of music starvation.
Verse 1:
When she starts to sing
I hear her heart take wing
Flying to the farthest star
She wants to be where You are
And I will go along
To be part of her song
14
Anthem of the Lonely
The microwave dinged. Sawyer grabbed the hot corn dog and pushed the buttons to start the washing machine. The sound of rushing water filled the kitchen.
Sawyer leaned against the counter eating his lunch. He’d cleaned the kitchen and the tiny dining area, vacuumed the carpet, and washed two loads of laundry. Given that his cleaning rarely went further than washing his dirty dishes and dividing the clothes on his bedroom floor into two piles—probably clean and definitely dirty—he was obviously bored. But he couldn’t go to Justin’s house and practice. Justin’s ever-present grin reminded him of Justin’s loyal innocence and Sawyer’s worst betrayal.
A knock sounded on the front door.
He dropped the corn dog stick into the trash on his way to answer.
Justin stood on the stoop.
“What are you doing here?” Sawyer’s heart pounded his ribs like a three-year-old banging the drums—hard, loud, nonstop. Sawyer scanned Justin’s face for any sign that he knew what Sawyer had done.
“You’re not answering your phone.” Justin stepped inside. He sounded as laid back as usual.
Sawyer shut the door and checked his cell. “Oh. Forgot to turn it back on yesterday.” He watched it power up and scrolled through the missed calls. Only Justin. Good thing. Mom got ticked if he ignored her.
“You’re not working today, are you?” Justin plopped down on the couch. “Thought you’d be over to practice.”
Sawyer searched for an answer that was true, but not the truth. He said the first thing that came to mind. “Had to clean first.”
“Really?” Justin’s voice jumped an octave. “You in trouble or something?”
“No. I just wanted to help out my mom.”
“You done now?” Justin glanced around the room. “Wanna go practice for a couple hours before the youth mixer thing tonight?”
