Diamond Heart

by M. A. Hinkle

  “It is, in fact, the plan.” I walked off before he could start any more conversations.

  MORGAN WAS ON microphone duty again, but we weren’t the only ones hanging around. Everyone had to help take down sets and put away costumes.

  “Do we know how many people are coming to our place?” I wasn’t pretending to have something useful to do. I’d gotten both my and Felix’s clothes put away, so I considered my duty done.

  “I haven’t been keeping track,” Morgan said. It was supposed to be offhand.

  I picked at the hole in my jeans. “You know, if you want me to call the whole thing off, I will. I don’t mind disappointing a bunch of overachieving teenage weirdos.” Never mind I was…kind of looking forward to it.

  But Morgan shook his head, setting aside the battery pack he was disabling. “I promise I’m okay with it, and I’m not just saying so. I think some of the other kids invited their friends, so I’m trying not to wonder how many people are coming. Or what we’ll do when we get there.”

  “I maintain my statement. Nothing crazier than a spontaneous chess tournament will happen, but those can get rowdy. We might have to referee. Do we have glasses we can break for shivs? I only know how to resolve conflicts via knife fight.” I made stabbing motions to emphasize my point.

  Morgan shook his head again, but he didn’t tell me to shut up, so I called it a wash.

  I DIDN’T REALLY care how many people were coming over, but the cast did seem bigger when I pictured them in our house. Then again, our house was too large for any family, much less us.

  Still, nobody beat us to our place, so I figured it wasn’t a problem. Morgan went into the basement, which was the only area beside our bedroom resembling a living space and not like everything belonged under glass with a label explaining the historical significance.

  Now he could seem antsy, but I wasn’t afraid he was going to lock himself in the downstairs bathroom. Progress. I sat on the stairs, scrolling through bullshit on my phone. My leg wouldn’t stop jiggling, but it meant nothing.

  As it turned out, people did come—first, a group of the girls who played the fairy court. They were freshmen, falling over each other and giggling in the way girls do. I brought them downstairs, where Morgan had set up his violin with a loop pedal. He started when one of the girls clapped.

  One of the fairies, Peaseblossom—I didn’t catch her real name, too much squealing—had graduated from second violinist to first, and she wanted his advice on a song for the final concert in May. We didn’t have a basement full of instruments, but Morgan did have two other violins because our relatives were all too rich to function and full of repressed guilt.

  “See, I told you,” I said to Morgan while the girls were tuning the other violins. “Chamber music.”

  Then, a bunch of guys showed up with an Xbox. One of them did sit with the girls to listen to Morgan, but he’d been crushing on Peaseblossom the whole time. Someone in this story had to be heterosexual.

  I ended up stealing TVs from the living room and the guest bedroom so they could set up an Overwatch tournament. I declined to participate because I wanted to make sure people didn’t wander away and get locked in a storage cupboard.

  EVENTUALLY, ALMOST EVERYONE involved in the play—plus some extras I recognized from around school—showed up, enough so some overflowed from the basement to hang out in the living room. I’d been right about this crowd: the wildest event was the Overwatch tournament, which was exposing some deep rifts among the theater kids. Someone upstairs had found the chess set, because this was the kind of house where a chess set spontaneously appeared if one wasn’t left sitting out, and I got roped into a game against a stagehand. It wasn’t much of a match. In case it wasn’t obvious by everything about me, I sucked at games of strategy.

  After an hour, the only missing cast members were the LGBT Whatevers. I was tempted to abuse my cell phone privileges and text Felix, but Felix never texted without adding a billion emojis, which made my eyes bleed.

  I went downstairs and asked Morgan if he’d heard anything. More of the actors were violinists—or good enough to fake it—so they were playing around with his loop pedal, trying to recreate the whole Super Mario Bros soundtrack from memory. Morgan wasn’t participating, but he was talking with them as though he did this all the time.

  I was going to have to find a different way to make fun of him.

  I sat next to him. “So are you skipping band practice for this?”

  “Oh, I thought he would’ve texted you too. They’ll be here later. They went to the triplets’ place to pick up some of their instruments. For mission ‘cheer up Sarah.’” He showed me his phone as proof. I had to guess most of the message, since, again, emojis.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll be upstairs, then. I wanna make sure nobody slipped off into Narnia by mistake. You got it handled down here?”

  Morgan had already turned back to the violinists. “I know you were joking about what we’d do at this party, but this is exactly my speed.”

  He had me there. Upstairs, another group of kids had arrived. I didn’t think they’d been involved in the play, but they’d brought their own snacks and were setting up an elaborate D&D game, so I wasn’t about to complain. I wandered through different parts of the house, pretending to socialize but really trying to get used to the idea. I was having an ordinary high school party with ordinary high school kids and not hating it. Or myself. And nobody hated me, either.

  Wild.

  THE LGBT WHATEVERS came about fifteen minutes later. By then, more people I didn’t know had arrived, but they were involved in nothing more risqué than Mario Kart.

  Felix was empty-handed, but Alex and Zach were both carrying guitars. Sarah had a little box covered in buttons under one arm, which I assumed was an electronic drum board and not a bomb. I couldn’t tell if their plan worked; Sarah seemed the same as always, which was to say I needed to check my fly because she was judging me for something.

  “Sorry we’re late,” said Felix, though he didn’t enter. “Alex had trouble picking a guitar.”

  I hooked my thumbs in my pockets. “Are you guys gonna come in or hang around on the doorstep and play singing telegram?”

  “I wasn’t gonna say this place should be the set for a murder mystery, but it should,” said Alex. “In which case, Zach and I are disinviting ourselves. Our parents don’t allow us to tempt the laws of Hollywood genre fiction.”

  “It could also be a Regency romance,” said Zach. “A cool diverse reboot.”

  “Then I’m definitely not interested,” said Alex. “I don’t see what’s romantic about outdoor toilets and tuberculosis.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and stepped inside. “You’d better show me wherever Morgan’s set himself up. I want to jam. And I swear to God, if you ask me any questions, I’ll cut you. You’re the only boy I can beat up without feeling bad.”

  I shook my head. “If you came after me for something, I’d accept it as my due.”

  “You’re only saying so to save your own skin. Now direct me. There’s been too much talking in the last half hour and not enough music.”

  I started walking before she made good on her threats. Downstairs, the Overwatch tournament was ongoing. Morgan and two of the girls were playing a trio piece.

  “Jeez,” said Zach, setting his guitar case down on one of the couches. “If I’d known there was a string thing going on, I’d have invited our dad.”

  Alex winced. “We can’t bring Dad to parties. You know how he gets around large groups of teenagers. It’s like a nesting instinct, only he lectures people on music theory.”

  “My dad lectures people about the liminal space between history and myth occupied by Welsh kings, so I’d call it an upgrade.” I crossed my arms in an attempt to appear comfortable and not twitchy.

  Sarah planted herself on another couch, setting the drum machine on her knees. “We are still talking. Remind me why?”

  “Would you please tell us who this m
ysterious girl is so we can go set up an elaborate trap to get her back with you?” Zach took a six-string acoustic out of the case, as opposed to his brother’s twelve-string. “It’s the only way I can think of to help you be less crabby.”

  “We’re not having this conversation.” Sarah started a drum loop to prove her point.

  Morgan stopped playing at once. The girls stopped a beat later. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop. You startled me.”

  Sarah huffed, brushing some hair out of her face. “I’d make some joke about how you could be startled by a cute kitten, but that’s mean, and my bad mood is no excuse.”

  “So what are we playing, then?” said Alex, adjusting one of the keys on his guitar. “Felix tapped out, so we can’t do one of ours.”

  I glanced at him. He’d somehow ended up standing beside me. Even though he’d been on and focused for performance, he was distracted now. His eyes wouldn’t settle on anything, and he kept shifting positions—well, more than usual.

  “I almost lost my voice last week when I tried after the play,” Felix said. “Besides, you guys can sing. You just won’t.”

  Alex made a face. “Not it.”

  Zach whined, and Alex punched his forearm.

  “Those two can sing.” I pointed at the girls. They were standing forlornly with their violins, resigned to being ignored. Both of them jumped, and one squeaked. I smirked at them because sometimes, being the bad twin was fun.

  “What can we play with girls, though?” Zach asked.

  “Literally anything we want?” said Sarah. “But no, we’re playing Beatles songs, because everybody knows them, and they make me happy.”

  “I can live with that,” said Alex. He played the opening notes of “Blackbird.”

  Sarah made a face. “Let’s do ‘If I Fell.’ This is supposed to be a party.”

  Alex played the intro, glancing at the girls when they didn’t join in. One of the girls sang the first line as if she was waiting for someone to tell her to stop. But Felix clapped, and Sarah gestured at them, her voice turning gentle. “Go on, get started. It’s no fun if you don’t get into it.”

  Alex played the introduction again. The girls sang along, nervously at first and then with more confidence. Morgan picked his violin back up. By the end of it, the girls had turned to each other, the better to match their voices.

  I nudged Felix. “Did Sarah set them up?” I didn’t worry about being overheard—they’d transitioned into “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

  Felix blinked, although he didn’t have his enraptured music face on—he seemed thoughtful. “Maybe, but I don’t think so. Sarah doesn’t interfere in romance. But those two have been making eyes at each other the whole play.”

  “Sure you’re not joining in?” I asked, watching the girls because they were cute. Sheesh, I was losing my edge.

  Felix shook his head. “I wasn’t joking about last week. When I woke up on Sunday, I didn’t have a voice. But my dad made me soup.” He rocked back on his heels, trying to sound casual and failing. “Oh, I meant to tell you—I finished working on the song. Did you want to hear it? I’ve got it on my phone.”

  If he’d seemed normal, I would have said no, because I was not hearing it where someone could see me have emotions. But he still wore a weird expression—not sad, but not as happy as he could be. And if listening to his friends didn’t cheer him up, maybe this would work.

  I could do this. For him.

  I shrugged, doing my best to act cool. “Sure, cool. Let’s go upstairs—there ought to be somewhere we can sit.”

  As it happened, more people had shown up. A lot more. I recognized them from around school, and some of them smiled and waved. Felix knew everyone, which reassured me. Also, no one was doing anything shady. Most people were sitting around talking shit, taking advantage of the snacks I’d squirreled around different rooms.

  The point was, enough people were around to fill up the main level of the house. It wasn’t jam-packed, but there were kids in almost every area. And we did walk in on one couple making out, though thankfully—or maybe not—they were too engrossed in each other to notice.

  Felix covered his face with his hands, although I could still tell he was blushing because his ears were turning red.

  “Let’s go upstairs, I guess.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t also embarrassed.

  Felix rubbed his face. “Usually people save it for the band room. But I guess a band room’s the one thing you guys don’t have.”

  “We used to have a piano in the sunroom, but Trevor doesn’t play anymore. I’m not sure if he sold it or put it in storage.” I started up the stairs.

  “Your dad plays music?” Felix sounded shocked. I didn’t blame him.

  “Used to, when we were kids.” I didn’t mention when he stopped. “But now he doesn’t do much of anything but study.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised, ’cause I met him at the fundraising dinner, and he seems really smart, but he’s so…” Felix trailed off, biting his lip.

  “Tight-assed?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to catch up. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

  “I was gonna say reserved, but you can call him what you want, I guess. He’s your dad.” He glanced over the expensive vase full of fake flowers next to the staircase. “Wow, your upstairs is just as fancy.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s like living on a movie set. But my headphones are in my room, so…” I trailed off, giving him the chance to say he didn’t want to go into a room alone with me.

  But Felix looked up at me, confused. “So are we going to get them…?”

  As a reply, I pushed open my door.

  Felix perked up, but less than usual. “Oh, I didn’t know you guys shared a room. The triplets minus one can’t stand it, even when we have sleepovers. I mean, Alex snores, but still.”

  If I didn’t cut him off, he’d keep talking, so I took the chair out from my desk and pointed at it. Felix sat. I found my headphones and handed them to him. Then I perched on the edge of my bed.

  Felix shrugged. “I could just play it. If you wanted.”

  “I’m trying to make myself deaf before I’m twenty-five. Help me out here.”

  He pulled up the song and passed his phone over. The track was labeled “Still.” I could have asked if it was a permanent title, but I’d be stalling. And compounding the mistake of having Felix in my bedroom in the first place.

  So I plugged in my headphones, hit play, and closed my eyes. I could hear the changes immediately—Felix’s voice was the same, nervous and frantic, but the violins were real, Morgan’s playing layered over itself to make a whole violin section. The song felt warmer and more organic. On the second chorus, they’d looped my voice, to make it a choir.

  It…it made a big difference. The song was good before, but this version felt more alive. Like it could help the people who needed it.

  Maybe I was one of those people, because it made me catch my breath.

  When the song ended, I pulled my headphones out and wrapped them up to give myself a minute before I turned to Felix. He’d flipped the chair around so he could prop his chin on the backrest, and his eyes were narrowed in concentration, the same face he made while working on his physics homework.

  I opened my mouth, but Felix spoke first. “You really do get it, don’t you? I thought so when I heard your recording. You—you did a good job.”

  I could have told him I didn’t know what he meant, or I didn’t care, or anything, really. But the time to lie was over. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Good. I want this song to connect with people.” He tucked his phone in his back pocket. “I mean, you already know where you fit in the rainbow, but I think anybody queer can relate, at least for a little while. I dunno if I’ll ever stop feeling that way.”

  “Morgan feels the same right now. “ For once, I wasn’t trying to change the subject. “You should show him the song. He contributed more than I did.”

  “I was gonna, but—�
�� Felix pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you know what happened. And I know he’d get it, and it might help him, but…” He bit his lip, and he looked at me, and I couldn’t puzzle out his expression. “I wanted to show it to you.”

  He paused. “But you didn’t get to see it first—Sarah actually knows how to use production software. The best I can do is noodle with Audacity. The rest of the band doesn’t count, though. I mean, they wrote it.” He let out a disgusted breath. “I never know what I want to say to you.” His voice was so quiet I knew it wasn’t meant for me.

  “Felix.” He turned his eyes to mine, though he didn’t face me. I could make some dumb comment, and he wouldn’t call me out. He’d probably thank me. But it wasn’t right, any more than letting him get away without talking to his friends last week. “Are you okay?”

  His lips parted, ready to glibly deny it the way he glibly denied everything. Then he hid his face in his arms.

  “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to ignore it? I know I’m the one nagging you about being open, but I can understand why you wouldn’t want to get all sappy at a teenage party. Or. You know. With me.”

  Felix shook his head. I wasn’t sure if this was agreeing or denying. He shifted, just enough so I could see his eyes. “I don’t know what I want. But…is it okay if we stay up here for a little bit? Well. You don’t have to. You can do whatever you want. But I just…need a little time.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Maybe it was only because I’d spent two hours dancing with him, but I could meet his eyes in all seriousness. Be what he needed.

  Felix nodded and hid his face again.

  “You want to sit over here?” He glanced up at me; I stared straight ahead, sitting perfectly still in case he turned me down. “I can pretend to be one of your nice friends. For a bit. As long as you promise not to go around telling people.”

  “You are nice, though. You just have to be weird about it first.” I raised my eyebrows. Felix hesitated. Then he came and sat beside me, so we weren’t quite touching. Felix laced his hands together, studying Morgan’s side of the room.