by Sarah Tipton
“Doing all the touristy stuff with your family?” He couldn’t risk the conversation drifting back to music.
“Not really. Turns out band practice is time consuming. But you know all about that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Justin gave up trying to steer the conversation and stared at his food.
“I’m thinking I shouldn’t have pushed them to follow through with this festival thing.”
He grunted. Take the hint. No such luck. She had no concept of boundaries.
“Sawyer and Zoey say we’d be fine if you joined us.”
“Look.” He snapped toward her. Heat replaced the earlier chill. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here. But normal people realize it’s rude to push someone to talk when they don’t want to.”
“Yeah, well, I think it saves time, skipping all the politeness stuff.” All the upbeat-happy in her voice was gone. Now she sounded as cold as he was hot.
“Maybe that’s why you have trouble making friends.”
She flinched, and he felt a tremor of guilt. What was wrong with him lately? He wasn’t a guy who went around hurting people. He took a slow breath to cool the heat and tried to soften his insult. “I’m just not interested in talking about any band.”
“Because of what happened between Sawyer and Zoey?”
“Seriously, what is the matter with you?” He barely kept himself from yelling. Forget about being nice. If she couldn’t be polite, he wouldn’t bother either. “That’s none of your business.”
“Well, it kind of is. They’re my friends too.”
“Friends? You just met them.”
“Chill.” She leaned away. “What’s the matter with you?”
He didn’t answer. Maybe that would be enough to shut her up. He crammed a couple of chips into his mouth.
“You know, both Zoey and Sawyer have said I’m like you, and I’m starting to think that’s an insult.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I thought I’d worked hard to get rid of my hate and my grudges and my need for revenge. But clearly I must not have if they think I’m like you.”
“And what do you know about me?”
“Not much, I guess.” The words were flippant but delivered like a slap. “You had a band with your girlfriend and best friend. Then they made the dumbest mistake ever, and now all three of you are miserable because you won’t forgive them.”
“That’s not true.” He’d forgiven Zoey. It wasn’t his fault she wouldn’t accept. “Besides, I have a right to be angry.”
“Angry? Or a right to hate Sawyer?”
“Both.” The word popped out before Justin thought, and he gave the wrong answer. The true answer, but wrong.
“No one has a right to hate.”
“Yeah? Maybe no one’s ever betrayed you.”
“And what do you know about me?”
“Nothing.”
“Then let me tell you.” Chey twisted to look him straight in the eye. “My mom ran off when I was two, and, yeah, I get that she’s messed up in the head, but who abandons their kid and never looks back? After that, it was just me and my dad. But he moves us around all the time, so what’s the point of making friends when you’re just going to leave? Then my dad met a woman, not even ten years older than me, got married and started having babies with her. Now he has a new family, and I’m just a boarder until graduation. And don’t forget my first boyfriend last year. Turns out he was just using me to get back at his ex for cheating on him. So don’t tell me I don’t understand wanting to hate someone.” The heat in her voice lit up her amber eyes.
“Sorry.” Lame, but he didn’t know what else to say. She was right, and compared to that, Justin's life sounded like an energetic, happy pop song.
“Yeah, well, I’m over it. Mostly.” She took a deep breath and flopped back against the cushions. “I know my dad and stepmom care about me, and they won’t kick me out of the house the day I graduate. But it’s only because of God’s grace that I can let go of everyone else’s mistakes. It’s not like I haven’t made any of my own.”
He cringed at the mention of God and grace. “But all that, it’s not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is. All Sawyer cares about is music, and you’re trying to take it away because of how he spent a very stupid five-seconds.”
“He kissed my girlfriend, and she broke up with me!” Didn’t she see how his entire life fell apart because of those “five-seconds?”
“And you won’t even accept his apology.” She fired an accusing shot like she didn’t care about how much pain he was already in.
“Like he even meant it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know Sawyer. I’ve known him most of my life. Sawyer never feels sorry for anything he does.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“But I’m not.” His voice sounded firm and sure, but inside, question marks floated like bubbles. Then they popped. Even if Sawyer did regret the kiss, it didn’t undo what he’d done. Nothing would.
Chey pushed off the couch. “I gotta get home. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us on Saturday.”
His mind was made up.
He left the devo soon after Chey. When he got home and walked into his garage, he glanced around the practice space. Despite the rearranged furniture, the holes remained obvious. The corner without Sawyer’s drums, the two empty spaces on the guitar rack, all missing pieces.
Missing pieces inside him.
How much truth was there in Chey’s accusations? And what about Zoey saying breaking up with him was the only decision she didn’t see as a mistake? Remembering her words splintered his heart all over again. If she’d never kissed Sawyer, would she have questioned whether she loved him?
And that was why he couldn’t forgive Sawyer.
Fire flowed through his veins. Chey was right. He was holding a grudge. He wanted revenge.
How had that happened? He was the one who smoothed out the conflicts between Zoey and Sawyer. He pointed out God’s role in their music and their lives.
So where had God gone in his life? Holding on to faith seemed impossible when everything fell apart. Did that mean he’d become bitter and hateful like Vance?
That thought rolled over him like a bucket of ice.
The black guitar case caught his eye. He couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of his first guitar, even if it was destroyed beyond repair. So he kept it, broken and splintered like his heart and his friendships.
But unlike the guitar, relationships could be fixed.
Bridge:
Is there too much brokenness
For any of us to survive this
Oh God, help us find
Forgiveness
Before heartbreak
Manages to take
Away our dream
50
Born for This
“We’re here.” Livvy wedged the car between a maroon hatchback and a white suburban in the dirt parking lot. “You nervous?”
“No.” Zoey’s answer was clipped. If she said she wasn’t nervous, would that make it true? She leaned forward gazing through the windshield. Trees and park equipment blocked her view of the soccer fields where the stage and booths were set up. It was almost twelve o’clock. She, Sawyer, and Chey didn’t go on for more than an hour, and the festival was just getting started.
Glancing around, Zoey found Chey’s car.
“I’m going to find Chey and Sawyer.” Seizing her water bottle, she opened the door.
“OK. I see Karmen and Greg.” Livvy grabbed her arm. “Hey, you’ll be great. Just have fun.”
Could Livvy see the psychotic moths swooping around her insides? “Thanks.”
“Oh, and Zo?”
Zoey froze, half in, half out of the car, and looked at her sister.
“Mama would be proud to know you’re singing on a stage, in front of a crowd, with your band.”
With her band. That mattered most. Fame wouldn’t be worth it without her friends, and if Mama were here, Zoey was sure she’d agree.
Zoey left her bass and amp in the car and made her way to the bright green field. Booths constructed of white poles and blue canvas edged the giant square where people had spread out blankets and one group had set up a camping tent. Dogs romped around, and kids darted in the sunshine. Zoey squinted and scanned the crowds for Sawyer’s spiked hair and Chey’s flashy clothes.
“Fi-nally.”
At the desperate voice, Zoey jumped. Chey had sneaked up behind her.
“Sorry.” Zoey tucked black and green hair behind her ear. “But I’m not late.”
“Yeah, I know.” Chey glanced over her shoulder at Sawyer lurking in her shadow. “Girl time. Go do something grossly male.”
“Like what?” Sawyer sounded offended as if he never did anything gross.
“Whatever.” Chey waved him away and then linked arms with Zoey and dragged her toward a booth speaking when they were out of Sawyer’s earshot. “He’s driving me crazy. We’ve been wandering around, looking at stuff, and every time I say I like something, he’s offering to buy it for me. Did he come into an inheritance? Or do I just look that poor?”
“I think it’s because he likes you.”
Chey’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you wanted us to be friends.”
“And I thought you liked him.” Zoey hip-bumped Chey.
“I do. Too much. And he knows it.” Chey’s voice faded in a way that sounded disappointed or maybe wistful. She fingered fabric bags hanging from a white tent post. “But I don’t want him thinking I’m ready to date him. Because I’m not. Not until I’m sure there’s something more than physical attraction.”
That sounded familiar. “You been talking to my sister?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“Anyway.” Chey led the way to another booth filled with tie-dyed everything. “He was annoying me.”
“I think you’re smart.” Zoey examined a bag. Twenty dollars? She could make one at home for less. Wasn’t that kind of the point of tie-dye? And why couldn’t she ever find tie-dye in black? “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want you to blame me for Justin not agreeing, but he wanted to get back together. And before I went over to his house Tuesday, I thought I did too.” The psychotic moths moved into her chest flapping against her lungs and making it hard to breathe. She walked out from under the booth’s shade and into the sun. “But I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because when I looked into his eyes, I knew he’d do anything for me, and I don’t know if I feel that. I still care about him, but I can’t return that kind of love. I don’t know that I ever could, even when we were together.” Who claimed not to love the guy she’d been dating? She chuckled to hide her embarrassment. “But if I felt differently, maybe he’d be playing with us today.”
“If he’s not willing to be friends with you, then you did the right thing.”
Zoey took a deep breath. The psychotic moths calmed a little. Did she agree? Yeah. Love wasn’t just about finding someone who loved her, but about being willing to return that love. Until she straightened out her complicated feelings, she wouldn’t be dating anybody. That decision was freeing.
“OK, you’ve done this before, right?” Chey looked at her, the stud in her lower lip jiggling. “The concert thing?”
“Yeah. A few times.”
“Is it normal to want to hurl? Because I feel like my stepmom dealing with morning sickness—which is definitely not my problem.”
“Yeah. I feel about like that every time.”
“Great. So if today goes well, I’ll be able to look forward to this.” Chey pressed a hand against her stomach. “Do you think we’ll totally humiliate ourselves?”
“Not totally...”
Chey sighed and glanced at the stage where a guy with eyeliner screamed into a mic. “You and Sawyer are going to hate me forever after today, aren’t you?”
“Not forever.” Zoey couldn’t help teasing Chey. This is what she’d missed most since breaking up with Justin—having a best friend. “But maybe until next week.”
“Thanks.” Chey turned scanning the crowds. “Think we’ve punished Sawyer long enough? He’s shopping in the free clothes.”
Zoey followed Chey’s gaze to a corner of the field. Clothes were stacked on folding tables, on the ground underneath and overflowing boxes. A sign fashioned out of a cardboard box read, “Free Clothes.” “He’s probably searching for old band T-shirts. He found a couple last year.”
“Really? Maybe we should help him.” Chey started toward the booth. “There’s gotta be a thousand items. Maybe I can find something.”
Was Chey motivated by the possibility of a good find? Or had fifteen minutes away from Sawyer been long enough? Zoey kept those questions to herself. Chey had more self-control than Zoey. She still half-wanted to call Justin up and hang out with him too.
Zoey hurried to catch up with Chey. “Hey, thanks for making us do this concert.”
“No problem.” Chey sounded confident despite her earlier confession. “I have a talent for forcing people into doing things they’ll regret.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t regret this.” The psychotic moths settled back into her stomach. A familiar and oddly comforting feeling.
Even if they were booed off the stage being reunited as a band was enough.
If only Justin could see that too.
51
The Note from Which a Chord is Built
The acoustic chords from the festival emcee, entertaining the crowd between acts, drifted through the thin curtain. On the stage, Zoey, Chey, and Sawyer rushed to set up their gear.
Sawyer crouched by his drums twisting the brackets.
“Want help?”
He glanced up at Chey. Her face was pale. “Sure. Finish this one.”
She took his place, and he started attaching a floor tom.
“You’re going to be great,” he said.
“I can’t even remember the titles of the songs.”
“That’s why we wrote a set list.”
“Yeah, but the names don’t mean anything if I can’t remember the songs.”
He almost laughed. She sounded like Zoey before a performance—completely freaked. He suddenly understood why Justin had never told Zoey to shut up and deal.
“You’ll remember.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t sound as if she believed him.
“Just pretend it’s another practice.”
“But it’s not. There are people—strangers—listening.”
“Yeah, but it’s free. Their expectations are low.”
She shifted her gaze from the drum set to him. “So you’re saying they expect us to sound bad?”
“Something like that.”
“And that makes you feel better about playing?”
“I don’t need to feel better. I remember the song titles.”
She slapped his shin.
“Are you guys ready?” Zoey, carrying her bass, stepped over and around snaking cords to stand in front of the drums.
“Almost.” Sawyer twisted the final brackets.
“Who’s introducing us?” Zoey asked.
“You,” Sawyer said.
“I was afraid of that.” A tiny moan attached itself to Zoey’s words. “One of you want to do it instead?”
Chey shook her head, her face almost the same shade as her blonde hair.
“You’re the vocalist. Be vocal,” Sawyer said.
“Introductions were Justin’s job.” Zoey licked her lips. Her bass trembled in her hands. “He was good at that.”
The words “shut up and deal” hovered on the tip of Sawyer’s tongue. He might not want to say them to Chey, but he wouldn’t have any trouble saying them to Zoey.
“Well, you’re gonna have to.” If Sawyer spoke into the mic, the audience would think he w
as threatening them. He tightened the last bracket. “’Cause we’re ready.”
Chey and Zoey stared at him, as though they expected him to do or say something. Like what? Did they want him to give some sort of pre-concert prep talk? Or were they hoping he’d offer to go solo so they didn’t have to be on stage?
“Go.” He gave commands, not encouragement. “Get to your spots so we can play.”
They scurried off, not looking inspired.
Sawyer sat behind the drums and raked a hand through his spiked hair. Epic Fail would be a better band name.
The emcee and another guy pulled back the black fabric curtain and wrapped it around the posts on either side.
“Uh, hi.” Zoey cleared her throat, and the microphone squeaked. “So we’re next. The three of us. I’m Zoey, that’s Chey, and Sawyer’s on the drums.”
He resisted the urge to duck or dive off the stage. Why had he ever let Chey talk him into this?
“We’re kind of new at this. Actually, Sawyer and I have been playing together for a while. A couple of years. We had another band, with my boyfriend, but he and I broke up because—”
What was she doing? He was ready to tackle her off the stage. Even he could do a better job.
“You probably don’t care about that. Anyway, I left the band.”
He rolled his eyes away from the disaster. Zoey launched into talking about Aurora Fire for some reason, but he blocked her out when he saw someone walking toward the stage. The one person he never expected to see today.
Justin.
Sawyer slipped away from the drums and jumped onto the grass. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Justin slipped the strap of his guitar case over his head.
“What’re you doing here?” Sawyer didn’t mean to sound defensive, but Justin hadn’t exactly wanted to be around him lately.
“Heard you needed a guitarist.” Justin smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He set the black case on the edge of the stage.
“You’re volunteering?” Sawyer’s heart pounded in his throat threatening to choke him. He waited for the catch.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Justin toyed with one of the straps. He glanced up, his eyes guarded. “But I haven’t forgiven you.”
