“Okay, okay.” I laughed. “Point taken.”
“The real issue is that Melly sells herself short,” Adeline told Yasmina. “She’s already figured out what some people never do: how to play in a band.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “I’m no better than Caleb or David—especially Caleb. He’s been playing forever.”
“I’m not talking about how to play the songs,” Adeline said. “I’m talking about how to play with other people. There’s a huge difference.”
Yasmina said, “Anyone can pick up an instrument, Melly. Not everyone knows how to listen. Music’s a conversation. It doesn’t work if everyone’s just talking to themselves.”
They were both watching me, as if they expected me to shout, Eureka! It’s clear to me now. But it wasn’t. My entire life, listening was never my problem. My problem was figuring out what to say and getting up the nerve to say it.
I shook my head. “You two sound like Damon and Donna’s love children,” I said, and this time I did mean to be funny, because otherwise they’d know how stupid I felt.
Sure enough, Adeline burst out laughing. “And you’re funny,” she said. “Yasmina, didn’t I tell you she was funny?” She reached out and squeezed my wrist.
Something strange happened. A current passed from her fingers into me. It buzzed all the way up my arm to my shoulder, then all the way down to my toes. As it went, it grew—as if a single honeybee had flown in and multiplied into a swarm. My heart was a hive. It hummed.
Then Adeline’s fingers were back in her own lap, but still I felt their pressure on my arm. I looked down to see if they’d left a mark. But I only saw shadows flickering on my skin in the candlelight.
As Damon announced the first act, I settled back in my chair and prepared to soak up the sound. And mostly I succeeded: relaxing into the groove when things were going well, wincing when they weren’t. But my mind was never completely on the music, even when Olivia took the stage with Noel and his friends to play their ode to Jerry Garcia and I sat up straight to pay attention.
Because I couldn’t not see Adeline out of the corner of my eye. Couldn’t not feel the warmth of her a few inches away. Couldn’t not wonder why my heart would not slow down.
Olivia leaped on me on our hike back to Treble Cliff, linking elbows with me. “What did you think?”
“You were sensational,” I said.
“Brick flubbed the lead-in,” she said. “You never would’ve done that!”
“Maybe I would’ve.”
“Okay. Maybe. But you wouldn’t have turned around and blamed it on me.”
“That’s true. Anyway, I don’t think anyone noticed.”
“Oh, they noticed,” Olivia said. “How could they not?”
“Nobody cares,” I said. “It’s not a contest, remember? And you just started playing together a couple of days ago.”
Olivia sighed and dipped her head against my shoulder. “All right. You’re trying to make me feel better, and I should let you, huh?”
“Yes, you should.”
“Okay. I will accept your word that we did not completely suck.”
“Definitely not. Just think, if you sounded this good on Day Four, you’ll be amazing by the show on Day Fourteen.”
“Thanks, Mel,” Olivia said. “You always make me feel better.”
I was glad, but also exhausted. How could such small problems require so much energy? And maybe it was selfish to think it, but what had happened to her making me feel better?
That’s not fair. She asked if you wanted to talk today. You’re the one who said no.
Which was confusing. Why had my feelings been too snarled up to share with Olivia? Why had they flowed out when Adeline found me in the meadow? It didn’t make sense. Had I forgotten who my best friend was?
Olivia started picking through each performance, from choice of songs to choice of outfits to actual execution. I tried to listen, but my mind wandered away. My feet felt funny and numb, like they couldn’t quite make contact with the ground. My head was floating somewhere high above, bobbing along like a balloon.
My body continued to walk to the campsite, but my soul drifted back down the path to the lodge, back to my seat between Adeline and Yasmina. I felt the happiness and confusion that Adeline had thought me worth telling Yasmina about. I felt the warm pressure of her fingers. My soul vibrated like a snare.
“Earth to Melly,” Olivia said, and my soul careened back up the path and snapped back into my chest. “What did you do today? I was so obsessed with the open mic, I forgot to ask.”
“Just hung out,” I said. My ears were ringing, as if they’d been stuffed with cotton and Olivia had yanked it out. The cacophony of frogs and toads and crickets and campers’ voices deafened me. I wasn’t quite sure why I didn’t mention canoeing with Adeline, but something inside me resisted. “A little of this. A little of that.”
Olivia nodded. “Well, if you’re ever feeling lonely, you should come grab me.”
“I will,” I said. I wondered if she meant it. I wondered if I’d want to try.
Thirteen
My pulse sped up when I saw Adeline at band practice, but she only gave me her usual smile. “Ready for another grueling session?” she asked.
If she was acting like everything was normal, I’d try to act normal, too. I rolled my eyes. “Does it matter, either way?” I slid behind the drums to make my daily height adjustments to everything. Whoever played right before me must’ve been a hobbit.
She giggled. “Fair point. Donna does seem to enjoy keeping us on our toes.”
That was one way of putting it. From pop to heavy metal to riot grrrl punk, Donna had picked songs that went together like peanut butter and Cheez Whiz. And today the pattern—or lack of it—continued.
I recognized the new song as soon as Donna put it on the stereo, probably from Mom’s favorite station for the car, the one that played “all your favorite hits of yesterday, today, and tomorrow!” It was called “Landslide,” and it started with a single acoustic guitar—no strumming, just the same pattern picked lightly over each chord—and a woman’s wistful voice. The song built gradually, a second acoustic harmonizing with the first, then a haunting solo on electric that reminded me of the wind moaning at the eaves of our house on a stormy night.
If you’d asked me to explain every line, I couldn’t have told you. The woman sang about snow-covered hills one minute, and the ocean the next. But somehow the meaning was clear to me. It was about change, and how confusing and risky and scary it was, because you never knew when that next step would send an avalanche tumbling down and burying you alive.
Hunched on my stool, I felt paralyzed, but also like I wanted to jump up and yell, Yes! This is totally my life! Coming to camp 150 miles from home. My parents divorcing. Things being weird with Olivia. Things being a different kind of weird with Adeline. If anyone was caught in a landslide, it was me. Donna said she’d picked a song with each of us in mind, and I didn’t know how she could’ve guessed what was happening to me, but I knew it was mine.
I guess it didn’t speak to everyone, though, because as soon as it was over, Caleb demanded, “What are we supposed to do with that?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Donna asked, the way she did when she knew exactly what you meant but wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of admitting it.
“There’s only, like, ten seconds of electric guitar, for starters,” he said. “There’s no bass. There’s no drums. It’s all acoustic and vocals—solo vocals.”
“Oh,” Donna said. “Thanks for pointing that out. That’s very observant of you.”
Caleb crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pinched. I felt a little sorry for him. I hated when teachers were sarcastic. If Donna had spoken to me that way, I’d be mortified. Forget those 150 miles. I’d grab my sticks and start walking home. Besides, he had a point.
On the other hand, after yesterday I was mostly relieved Donna wasn’t picking on
me.
To my surprise, Adeline came to Caleb’s defense. “I’ve heard dozens of covers of ‘Landslide,’ and it’s always acoustic and vocals. If it’s really out there, banjo or violin.”
“Anyone else?” Donna asked. Her eyes homed in on me. “Melly? What do you think: can ‘Landslide’ be performed with a full band?”
“Maybe it could, technically.” I hesitated. “But it wouldn’t respect the songwriter’s intentions, right?”
Donna turned to David. He, naturally, shrugged.
“Wow,” Donna said, “okay. Let’s talk about this. Remember listening to ‘Enter Sandman’ the other day?” Everyone nodded. “Great. So I assume you remember that awesome rhythm part on acoustic.”
We looked at each other. “Uh, there wasn’t one,” Adeline said.
“Oh, really? That’s interesting. My mistake. What about Monday, when David played that really beautiful keyboard line, just like on the recording?”
Nobody bothered saying David didn’t have a keyboard. We knew Donna was messing with us. We just hadn’t figured out why.
Donna sighed. “People. You are but one little four-piece band in the middle of the woods. You could be geniuses, and you would never be able to replicate everything you hear on these recordings. You’ve been improvising all week to make up for differences in instrumentation and musical proficiency. Today is no different.”
“But ‘Landslide’ is basically perfect as is,” Adeline said. I nodded.
“What’s the problem?” Donna said. “You’re afraid of offending Stevie Nicks, who wrote that song probably before your parents were born? Trust me, I think she can handle it.”
“But there’s barely anything to work with!” Caleb protested. “Where do we even start?”
“You say there’s less to work with,” Donna said. “I say there’s more opportunities for you to be creative. Look. Playing with new people gives you the chance to experiment with a new sound. This is your chance to blaze a trail. To be different from everyone who’s come before you. Don’t waste it. Start hashing it out.”
When she put it that way, it sounded exciting, but also scary. Since when had I been a trailblazer? Oh wait—since never!
“I think we should keep the fingerpicking,” Adeline said. “It’s essential. But what are we going to do with the rest of you?”
“I want more than that solo,” Caleb said. “I didn’t come to camp to stand here with my teeth in my mouth.”
“Sure,” said Adeline. “Why don’t you work out a new guitar part? You could come in on the second verse, like on the recording, but doing your own thing.”
Telling Caleb to do his own thing sounded like a dangerous proposition, but Adeline was obviously trying to keep things positive. “What about David and me?” I said. “Should we come in on the second verse, too?”
“Sure,” Adeline said. “Maybe you could start quiet, but get louder as the song goes on.”
“I’ve actually got just the tools for that,” I said. I rummaged in my stick bag for my brushes, popping the long wire bristles out through their plastic handles.
Caleb squinted. “What are those?”
“Brushes. I’ve barely ever used them. My mom got them because she heard they were quieter than sticks—which they are—but they’re also not, like, hard rock material.” I smiled. “But I think they’ll do the job here. I can switch back to sticks if we want to kick it up a notch.”
“Great idea!” Adeline said, and I went pink with pride. “That leaves David.”
“Come in at the same time as me,” I told him, feeling more sure of myself with Adeline as my ally. “The rhythm section needs to stick together.”
“And we’ve got the chords,” Adeline said. “Maybe you could do something super simple, like this—” She sang what she was thinking, just one note per measure: dum, dum, dum, dum.
David seemed relieved by how easy it was. “I could do something like that,” he agreed.
It wasn’t magic from that point on. Adeline was still the only one who could sing and play at the same time with any real confidence. But she stopped trying to blend so much and started singing out, and it helped. The louder she sang, the more the lyrics sank into my brain, until the words materialized in my mouth and I could put more of my energy into the drums. It helped that the song called for a light touch. I could do light.
It had its challenges, though, mostly because David wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Yasmina said playing in a band was like having a conversation? Well, you can’t have a conversation if the other person refuses to talk to you, or even look at you. I was tired of struggling to interpret his head bobs and chin thrusts. Instead, I laid down the beat as if I were playing alone. David would catch up, or not.
Occasionally Donna chimed in with suggestions, including multiple requests for Caleb to chill out and let the lyrics do the heavy lifting, but if she noticed any problems with David and me, she didn’t mention them. For the most part she stayed out of the way. When her watch beeped, she said, “Yes, people, yes. You are starting to sound like a band.”
I actually sort of agreed.
I got another surprise when Adeline asked, “You want to hang out this afternoon?”
“Oh! Yeah! I think? Maybe?” I slid my brushes into my stick bag and zipped it up.
“Sorry. I forgot you probably need to check with Olivia.”
Adeline didn’t say it in a mean way, but her words were a wake-up call. Did I need to check with Olivia? It was pretty clear she had her own agenda, one that didn’t include me. Why should I wait to see what she was doing before I made my own plans?
“No, actually, I don’t,” I said. “Scratch the maybe. I’d love to hang out.”
Adeline smiled, but it wasn’t the big, beaming smile I’d come to expect. It was quieter—sort of bashful. If she were someone else, I’d almost think it was shy. “I’ve got some stuff I need to do right after B-flat,” she said. “But do you want to go to the beach after that? Or if you had something else in mind, and didn’t mind some company . . .”
“Beach sounds good,” I said before I could start feeling shy myself. “What time?”
No surprise, Olivia had made plans to play with Noel. With both her and Adeline busy, I had the first half of the afternoon all to myself. First I ran through our band’s songs. Then I went to the crafts cabin, where I stayed long enough to make a key chain. It was kid stuff: pressing acorns and twigs and things into clay, then poking a hole for the key ring. I used a pair of maple seeds on one side and scratched my initials on the other. It would make a good ID tag for my stick bag. The crafts counselor told me I could pick it up the next day, after it had been baked.
“Want to make another?” she asked. “Something for your best friend back home?”
“My best friend is here at camp.”
“That’s lucky. A brother or sister?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Well, what about your parents?”
Ha. “I don’t think so,” I said. There hadn’t been any letters for me at B-flat. The running total was still one from Mom, zero from Dad.
It was time to go to the lake. I flipped my pick on the way to Treble Cliff to put on my swimsuit. Adeline’s pick hung in the workshop column. I looked for Olivia’s next. It was hanging in the lodge column, of course. It never seemed to budge.
Toni was changing into her own suit when I arrived at our tent. “Melly. What’s up?”
“I’m going swimming. Are you going, too?”
“Nah,” Toni said, “I heard they’re having Miss America tryouts at the lodge.” She flung out one arm, pointing a toe and thrusting out her chest. We both burst out laughing.
We walked to the beach together. This time, Toni jumped right off the end of the dock and headed for the raft without waiting to see if I’d follow. I went at my own pace, soaking up the sun. I dipped a toe into the water by the shore. It was perfect. I wandered to the end of the dock and, instead of jumping, lowered m
yself slowly down the ladder, the water creeping up my legs and then my middle, until it engulfed me. Only then did I paddle out to the raft.
The perfect moment shattered. The raft was crowded with loud, dripping kids. Shauna was one of them. She yelled, “Melly! We’re having a contest. Doofus here is under the impression boys dive better than girls, and I think we all know that’s a steaming pile of—”
“I can’t dive,” I mumbled, ashamed.
“So be a judge,” she said. “We’ve got more girls than boys, anyway.”
“She can’t judge,” the doofus said. “She’ll be biased toward the girls.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Shauna. “Melly will be objective.”
“We should have two judges,” he insisted. “A boy and a girl.”
“Then going by your logic—which isn’t, by the way, remotely logical—it’ll always come out a tie.”
“Then we need a tiebreaker judge.”
“Argh!” Shauna said. “Who do you suggest?”
“A sheep!” Toni yelled. The crowd groaned and laughed.
I was regretting having come to the beach. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but it wasn’t this chaos. Where was Adeline, anyway? I looked around, feeling pathetic. Maybe I should swim back to the dock. Maybe I should walk back to shore. Maybe I should hike back to Treble Cliff, put on my clothes, and pretend I’d never come here.
Suddenly there she was, pulling herself up the ladder and dripping her way over to me. “Hey, Melly. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay. I was just . . . waiting.” Now that Adeline was here, it was like in the movies, when the camera zooms in on just two people, and the rest of the crowd loses focus, their voices blurring and fading with their faces. We were in a bubble, there without being there.
“I didn’t expect you to stand here doing nothing while you waited,” she said, laughing.
“It’s not that. It’s just, they’re having a diving contest. And, well, I can’t.” I shook my head, remembering the last time. “I tried at the Y, and it was a disaster. I got up on the diving board and had, like, heart-stopping, full-body paralysis.”
Drum Roll, Please Page 9
