by Tara Kelly
I joined her up front, letting her brutal vocals take over my movements. My foot stomped and my body rocked back and forth. I jumped up and hit the ground just as we moved into the speedy chords of the next section.
Sean moved in front of me and smiled—as if challenging me to a duel. I took him on, palm muting the frenetic notes of the bridge. He stayed in sync, tilting his chin up and closing his eyes. And then he did something unexpected. His fingers moved up the neck of his fret board and our roles reversed. He played an ascending bass solo that circled around my repetitive notes, taunting me.
I cut bait on shadowing Veta and moved down my fret board, playing in harmony with Sean. Veta grinned and backed away from the mic. Felix compensated by adding in a low, billowing synth. Bryn switched to a quieter but more incessant beat—as if he knew just where we wanted to go.
Sean played faster and I slowed down, letting each note blend together into a river of noise. As the sound faded, my fingers sped up and Sean scaled back, following and defying me at the same time.
A random blur of images swam through my head: my dad’s doubtful stare when I told him my plans, Jason’s cherubic grin, the horse wallpaper still plastered to the walls of my old room. I’d fought Dad for an hour to get it when I was seven—he wanted some generic kind with yellow flowers. And then I saw the last few weeks—everyone I’d met, good and bad. How they all inspired me in one way or another. Everything from terror to ecstasy spilled out of my fingertips and bled into the strings. I took the tight turns as they came and didn’t flinch.
It all ended with the scream of feedback and me on my knees—I didn’t even know how I got there. I cut the volume and stood, my chest heaving and my hands shaking. The roar of the audience followed—whistles, squeals, shouts, and the dizzying effect of hundreds of hands clapping at once. I was covered in sweat and half my makeup was running down my face, but I didn’t give a damn. I couldn’t even describe how I felt, other than to say nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this moment.
Sean wrapped his arms around my waist. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and I closed my eyes as his breath caressed my neck. “You blew me away,” he said.
I knew something was up when Bryn corralled us into the studio during his after-party. He deflected at least five girls on the way there.
“Hurry up and spill,” Veta said after we all piled in. “Zia was actually talking—to me. Mostly about how much Jasmine rocked.” She bumped her shoulder into mine, grinning. “But I’ll take it.”
“Shut up and I will!” Bryn said.
“Fine—jeez. I—”
“Veta,” Bryn growled through his teeth.
“Shhhh,” Felix joined in.
Sean and I exchanged a smirk.
Bryn clapped his hands together like an excited child. “So, I just got done talking to Ajay.”
Veta’s eyes widened. “And?”
My heart started to thud—it had to be good news, right?
“We got the gig,” Bryn announced, his lips stretching into a huge grin. “We’re fucking going on tour!”
Felix jumped up and down, covering his mouth. “Will we get our own bus?”
Bryn rolled his eyes. “No, Felix.”
Veta threw her arms around me and squealed into my ear. Good thing I was mostly deaf from the show. “Ah, easy,” I said, patting her back. Not that I wasn’t completely stoked about the tour. I was. As long as I could avoid Nile as much as possible. Plus, tonight still hadn’t hit me yet. I was walking around in a daze, the kind with tinnitus.
“Okay, so—Jasmine,” Bryn said. “We need to record your guitar parts right away—like, this week.”
“No problem,” I said, pulling away from Veta.
“And we’ve got a shitload of things to do—so much that I can’t even think of it all.” Bryn rubbed his temples. “But for now, let’s just party.”
Veta gave him a salute. “Yes, sir.”
We headed out, weaving our way through people standing in the backyard. Some of them said hello and gave us approving nods. I didn’t really want to go inside, though. A few of the locals were starting to warm up to me, but most still seemed wary. Like I had to prove myself a little longer before they would give me more than a polite smile.
I broke away from the others and headed across the street, toward the ocean. The moonlit sea churned and hissed, drawing me to that benchlike rock. I settled in and listened to the calls of sea lions and the grinding industrial beat filtering from the house. It was oddly comforting.
I’d just closed my eyes when I heard footsteps climbing the rocks behind me. Sean. I sighed, pretending to be annoyed. But part of me hoped he’d end up out here. A tiny, tiny part.
“You’re on my rock again,” he said.
“Yep—wanted some alone time.”
“That’s too bad.” He plopped something heavy on the rock next to me. “I brought your acoustic out, hoping I could cash in on your promise.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Sean had his hands shoved into the pockets of his black cords. He was eyeing the ground, as if he expected me to tell him to get lost.
I moved over and patted the space next to me. “Sit.”
He slid in a little too close. I had the urge to lean into him and move away at the same time.
“So, hey,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, a smile stretching across my face. “Hi.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. The stars were out in droves tonight, casting a halo around Sean’s profile. Even the barbell through his eyebrow was lit up like a Christmas light.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve missed you.” There. I said it.
“I’ve missed you too.” He looked down at his hands again. “I finished that sketch…”
“Yeah? Can’t wait to see it.”
“You will—after I paint it.”
My eyebrows rose. “You paint too?”
He grinned. “Yeah, a little.”
I shook my head. “What can’t Sean Ramirez do?”
“A lot of things.”
“Like?”
A smile twitched at his lips. “Oh, I don’t know—spellbind an entire audience with a solo and make it look effortless.”
“Oh, please. Don’t fish for compliments. You know you’re good.”
He nudged me. “Not like you.”
Heat crawled up my neck, and I laced my fingers together. Taking compliments still wasn’t my forte. “So, how’s Amy?” And neither was changing the subject, apparently.
He exhaled a laugh. “Um…”
“Sorry—it just kind of came out.”
“It’s okay.” He touched my knee. “She’s good, I guess. We haven’t talked much since I told her there wasn’t a chance in hell we were getting back together.”
“Oh, when did you—”
“Last weekend—the night you went to Nile’s.”
“Ah.” My mind struggled for something to say. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“I’m not.” He looked out toward the water. “I called Teddy yesterday. Let him have it. He told me he’s had a thing for Amy since high school.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
“I don’t know the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he really does seem to feel bad.”
“That’s what he says. But it’s kind of hard to trust someone after that.”
I nodded. “I know.”
He looked over at me. “Have you talked to your dad?”
“He called a couple of days ago. Same old stuff.” I deepened my voice. “Have you changed your mind yet? It’s not too late.”
Sean chuckled.
“But he’s agreed to let me get my bed and other stuff—if I can find a way to get it down here.”
“No problem. We’ll take the van.” He bumped his shoulder into mine. “Maybe check out some bands at Whiskey Hill while we’re there.”
“Har, har.”
His fingers r
an through a lock of my hair. “Couldn’t resist.”
“You never can.” I sucked on my lower lip. “I wish we could go back. Not that I regret what we did. It was…” I let a smile slip. “Kinda nice.”
“Kinda?” He wrinkled his nose. “Ouch.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees. “What you said—about me not letting myself feel anything…”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“You were right, though—to a point. But that night with you—I felt every second of it.”
“I did too,” he said.
“I’m tired of being this girl. I want something real.”
He touched my cheek. “You deserve something real.”
I faced him, swallowing the lump in my throat. “But you can’t give that to me right now. You know that.”
His thumb traced my cheekbone. “I want to.”
“You need time.”
He dropped his hand. “I wish I didn’t.”
A large wave smashed against the rocks, sending spray across my cheeks. I closed my eyes. “It’ll happen—if it’s meant to.”
“I hope so.”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “Just be ready to treat me like a princess.”
His lips curled up. “No problem. It’s not like that would be a far stretch of the imagination.”
I shoved him, shaking my head. “Jerk.”
His eyes lingered on mine for a few seconds before he spoke again. “In the meantime, you owe me.”
“Owe you?”
He popped the latches of my guitar case and handed me my acoustic. “A song.”
I set the guitar on my lap, brushing my fingers across the strings. “I can, but I’m warning you that I’m not—”
“Jasmine?” He smirked. “Don’t make me shut you up.”
“Just remember, you asked for it.” I smiled and began to play a song about a girl who risked everything to find her way home, off-key vocals and all.
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
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New York, New York 10010
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Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Copyright © 2011 by Tara Kelly
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kelly, Tara.
Amplified / Tara Kelly.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When privileged seventeen-year-old Jasmine Kiss gets kicked out of her house by her father, she takes what is left of her meager savings and flees to Santa Cruz, California, to pursue her dream of becoming a rock musician.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-0595-8
[1. Rock music—Fiction. 2. Rock groups—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction.
4. Santa Cruz (Calif.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.K2984Am 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2011005790
