Will's Story Page 5

  “Let me talk, okay?”

  She sighs. “I’m listening.”

  I take a deep breath and look at my banjo shining on its stand. “I want to help you. Devon told me about you getting an audition for NC-Arts.”

  “Help me?”

  “Come on, Not So Plain and Small, don’t make this tough on me.”

  I swear there’s a growl that comes across the phone line. “Will, all I know is we have something when we make music. And when we’re together. To you, what happened between us might mean nothing. But it was a big deal to me.” She pauses and her voice comes out softer, sadder. “And I can’t even talk to my best friend about it. I can’t talk to anybody about it.”

  If I didn’t feel like such a jerk for being the one to put that sadness in her voice I’d be ecstatic. She thinks we have something. It did mean something to her.

  “Shit,” I mutter, stumbling and not finding the right words. “I was only going to offer to help you with your audition.”

  There’s silence on her end of the line. I could hang up. End this conversation while I get Amber Rose sorted out and figure out the perfect thing to say to her, but she starts talking again.

  “You want to help me?” Her voice is a whisper.

  “Forget it. I shouldn’t expect you to want to hang out with me.”

  The volcano girl erupts. “No, you shouldn’t.” I hear her take a deep breath, like she’s gathering her emotion. When she talks again, her voice is normal. “Actually, I could use your help.”

  “You could?”

  She tells me about a CD of audition songs Mrs. Early gave to her. “I wish I could sing something like we did the other day in chorus.”

  I smile, happy she thought our duet was good. “That was pretty sweet.”

  We breathe for a minute then talk at the same time.

  “Maybe I could . . .”

  “I’ll let you . . .”

  “Go ahead,” I say.

  “I’ll let you borrow the CD tomorrow. I’ll tell you my favorites so far and you can tell me which ones you think would be good.”

  I agree but before I hang up, I say one more thing. “Amber.”

  “Yeah?”

  I can hear the waiting in her voice, but all I manage to get out is, “I’m sorry.”

  She hangs up.

  I stare at the phone in my hands, daring myself to call her back immediately. But I think about how pissed I’d be if it were me in Amber Rose’s shoes. I put the phone down. Soon I’ll be able to tell her how I really feel. Every step so far I’ve done it wrong—now it’s time to do this right.

  The next two days are both the fastest and the slowest days of my life.

  Amber Rose is getting suspicious. “You’re not still sick, Will. Did I do something?” She snuggles against me in the commons. It’s weird but the more standoffish I am, the more flirtatious she gets. Her fingernails tiptoe up then down the front of my T-shirt. I catch her hand in mine.

  “No, it’s cool. It’s just.” I look around indicating that we’re surrounded by students.

  “I don’t care about them.” She drapes a possessive long leg over mine and lifts her mouth to my neck, kissing her way closer to my ear. I can’t help it. I lean in.

  And of course, that’s the moment Devon, Amber, Kush, and Sean walk by. Amber’s eyes flick in my direction. If I were in her head and this was her and that Sean kid, I’d die a little on the inside. I see her crutch catch on the floor, like maybe it’s the catch of her breath.

  I jump to move away at the same time Amber Rose takes my earlobe between her teeth. I’m guessing her intention was gently. But my sudden movement and her precarious position result in the snapping of her jaws.

  “Motherfucker.” The curse is a howl as I grab my ear and fall away from her.

  Amber Rose jumps up and leans over me. “Oh my God, Will, I’m so sorry. Let me see. Are you okay?”

  Sarabeth, who’d been doing her peripheral paying attention, is belly laughing. I flip her off with the hand that’s not grasping my earlobe. Amber Rose is trying to peel that one away to see if she drew blood.

  “I’m fine. Just get off, okay?” I roll away from her to standing. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “God, you don’t have to be an ass. It was an accident.”

  I walk away. I know I’m overreacting but I don’t like where I’ve put myself. Firmly in the cheater’s chair with that little show. In the mirror, I check out my ear to see if she broke the skin. It’s red as crap but in one piece. Small blessings. I splash water on my face. This is ridiculous. Why didn’t I just break up with her already? I swear, I think my brain is missing a few parts.

  Outside Amber Rose and Sarabeth are waiting for me and they each take an elbow for the walk to class.

  “Let me see.” Sarabeth cranes her neck and checks out my ear. “Eh, you’ll live.”

  Amber Rose snuggles my elbow. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, Will.”

  Say it. Say it right now. Tell her it’s over.

  But the hall is crowded and Sarabeth is right here and everyone knows there’s an art to the respectable breakup.

  I drop them off at their English class and head upstairs to calculus. A few steps later and my phone pings. I swipe it and holy mother of all things orange lingerie and boob. Amber Rose’s apology was to actually sext me. Right here. At school. I glance over my shoulder and hand to God, the girl is cocked back against the wall, leg propped up, with her tongue running over her top lip. Then she winks and disappears into class.

  Amber Rose’s reputation is that she’s a hard nut to crack. No-man’s-land. But damn if she hasn’t pegged me as the nutcracker. And I’m going to say no.

  “McKinney.” It’s Coach Briggs. “Do I need that phone in your hand?”

  “No, sir.” I slide it back in my pocket but as soon as he’s gone I pull it back out. This is not a daily occurrence.

  I’ve got to say, the girl looks good. Better than good.

  But I hit delete.

  Devon would tell me I’m whipped.

  He’d be right.

  Because no matter how good she looks in orange and lace, Amber Rose can’t tell a minor chord from a major. And that matters more than the sum of any number of body parts.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nerves strung tight

  Things I must do

  A boy’s confession

  Never meant to hurt you

  My fingers drum out of synch with the song blaring from my speakers as I drive home from school. My thoughts won’t settle. I told Amber Rose to come about an hour early so I could talk to her and let her know that our dating wasn’t going to work out. What I didn’t expect was to find Amber Vaughn in my den.

  I hesitate for a second and glance at the clock in the kitchen. A good hour or so to kill. My heart is beating hard but I play it cool. Besides, I found some interesting banjo arrangements she might use for her audition.

  I grab some of their popcorn. “Hey, Devon, do you mind if I borrow Amber for a sec? I want to show her what I found.” I lift up the arm holding my laptop and the CD she’d given me Thursday morning.

  Devon groans and shoos us away. He’s playing some Lana Del Rey song on his guitar. “Go somewhere in the back where I can’t hear the twang.”

  Not sure Amber’s going to follow me when I motion for her to come down the hall to my room, but she does, her crutches pushing along the hardwood floors.

  I put the laptop on my desk and turn it on. “Is your ankle going to be okay?”

  “Kind of. Pretty sure it’s just a sprain but Mom insists I use these for a few more days. I fell over a stupid root in the trail when I was hiking.”

  Another cool thing about Amber Vaughn. She likes to get outdoors as much as I do.

  She leans her crutches by the door. “What’d you think of the CD?”

  “Let me show you something.” I get to one of the videos I’d bookmarked. It’s a banjo version of “Ave Maria,” one of the
songs she’d mentioned as a favorite. She’s leaning in my door frame and as she realizes what the guy’s playing, her face lights with a smile.

  I grin. “Right? But that’s not all. Here’s the ‘Red, Red Rose’ song you liked.” I turn to the computer and click through my favorites, pulling up another video.

  Amber’s watching the screen. “You could do those arrangements?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I don’t want to come across as cocky. “I mean, we can learn together. Would it be too weird if you hung out with me, though?” I’m testing the Amber Vaughn waters.

  She cocks an eyebrow.

  “To practice,” I add. “Instead of hanging out with Devon.”

  “We’ve played together before at your house. Remember? Nirvana?”

  I choose not to feel small even though her voice is “put me in my place” contemptuous. “Right.” I skip past my embarrassment. “You want to start tonight? Now?” I know I have a deadline but playing music will be a good thing to keep my mind off Amber Rose’s imminent arrival.

  Amber Vaughn blushes.

  She blushes!

  “Yeah. That’d be good.”

  I motion for her to sit on the foot of my bed, while I take the swivel chair. It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking. When I start in on the “Ave Maria” arrangement, I butcher it. It’s worse than bad. But it might be because Amber Vaughn has laid herself flat on my bed, her hand under her chin, watching me. I try again and eventually it starts sounding like something. She sits back up and when she opens her mouth this heavenly note escapes.

  “Ave Maria.”

  Her mouth, only the barest hint of something rose-colored on her lips, forms an o and she closes her eyes and draws the sound up and out from inside. And yeah, this is totally cliché, but it’s like angels singing. Specifically, the angel of Patsy Cline right here in my room. It’s hard to keep playing the banjo and watch her sing at the same time, but I do. Until I hit a sour note.

  “Sorry about that. I promise I’ll get it.”

  Her face is serene and calm like the words of the song have washed her pure. “I’m not worried.” She scoots herself up against my headboard.

  I’m drawn to her calm and without really being aware of what I’m doing, move to the foot of my bed. The plink of notes for “Red, Red Rose” pull my focus and I play it through a few times, getting it smooth. When I start in for the fourth time, Amber joins in.

  “I wish I was a butterfly, I’d light on my love’s breast. I wish I was a blue cuckoo, I’d sing my love to rest.”

  Her voice fades away and I finish playing. “You want to practice that again?”

  In the back of my mind, I’m aware I should be paying attention to the time. But the other part of me is living strong in this moment. This making music. This girl. This feeling.

  “Sure,” she says.

  I don’t look at the clock.

  I start picking and this time I look at her as she sings. And she looks at me. And the lyrics are a love song and if she ever had a doubt about how I felt, she’s got to know it now. And a part of me knows she must like me, too. But every song ends and when this one does, she blushes, looking down. And I’m contemplating setting the banjo down, and crawling forward across the plaid comforter I’ve had since sixth grade, and taking Amber Vaughn into my arms for a good, long kiss, when a slow clap sounds from behind me.

  Amber Vaughn’s brown eyes go wider than walnuts and I know.

  I should have looked at the clock.

  Amber Rose is leaning against my door frame dressed to kill. “Very sweet,” she says, her tone a barbed contrast to her words.

  I jump up. “Hey. What time is it?”

  Then Devon’s there and he’s looking at my face, and looking at Amber Vaughn on my bed, and shit. All we were doing was playing music. But the feeling in the room is thick. Thick as guilt.

  I don’t know what all is said, but when the air thins, it’s me and Amber Rose. Devon and Amber Vaughn have vanished to the front of the house.

  Amber Rose shuts my door.

  I turn on music. Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. Not exactly breakup music but it will have to do.

  “Amber Rose,” I say.

  She cuts me off. “Don’t even, Will McKinney. Don’t even tell me the day I sent you a text of my flipping breasts, you cheated on me?”

  “We were just playing music.”

  “I heard.” She crosses her arms and stands ramrod straight against my wall.

  “Amber Rose, listen.”

  She cuts me off again. “I’m listening and this better be good. You’ve been weird all week. Are you cheating on me? With her?”

  Moment of truth, Will McKinney. You going to wiggle around this or be a man? My mom’s training about what it means to be honorable kicks in. It’s time to own up to what I’ve done.

  “Yes.”

  “What?” She drops her arms, like she wasn’t really expecting that answer, and maybe it’s my imagination but I swear those saxophones in the background get about twelve times louder.

  “But not how you think.” I take a step forward to, I don’t know, touch her arm or something, but then I think better of it and stop. “I mean, yes, we got together one day.” I won’t tell Amber Rose the details, it’s not her business to spread. “I thought it was a fluke, and you and me, we hadn’t really been going out very long, but then it halfway happened again.”

  “You suck, Will McKinney.” She’s crying now and I do step forward and put my arms on her shoulders to hug her.

  “Hey, don’t cry. Look, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  She snuffles. “You should have thought about that when you were locking lips with some chunky redneck girl.”

  I unhug her. I know she’s mad but that was low.

  “God. I sexted you today.” Amber Rose looks at my ceiling instead of me.

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  She hugs herself and a few more tears drop down her cheeks before her next question. “You deleted it, right?”

  “I know I’m a douche, Amber Rose, but I’m not that level of asshole. Yes, I deleted it. And you did look good.”

  She shudders like a rabbit ran up her spine. Coltrane continues to blare in the background. “Why her? I’m prettier than her.”

  “You’re gorgeous, Amber Rose. And kind.” I let her bitch comment about Not So Plain and Small slide—I know she’s hurting—but she was kind to me out on the lake. “The male population of MHHS will thank me on Monday for making you available once again. Some guy’s going to scoop you up and never let you go.”

  “It’s y’all’s music, isn’t it?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I could go on and tell Amber Rose that I think Amber Vaughn is the real kind of beautiful, but I figure she won’t get it. “You can still go tonight if you want,” I offer.

  Amber Rose sighs and wipes her face. Whatever raw emotion was there disappears when she pulls her hand away and all that’s left is anger. Her eyes narrow. “I don’t want to, Will. And I don’t want you talking to me on Monday. And one more thing . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t make cheating on your girlfriends a habit.” She hitches her purse back to her shoulder. “I may not understand what you see in her over me. But no girl likes to be treated the way you just treated me.”

  She doesn’t wait for my response as she turns and opens my door to leave.

  Coltrane blares.

  I can’t get to the off button fast enough.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hand in hand

  Freedom and fear

  The moment to say

  What I hold dear

  The next morning, I’m watching old episodes of Ice Road Truckers when Devon finally wakes up. “What’s up with you?” I eye him as he walks into the den.

  He’s got huge bags under his eyes like he’d been on a bender the night before but he was with me, symphony’ing it up with the parentals.

  “Amber called me late l
ast night.”

  “Oh?” I scoot up from where I’m lying on the couch, then I scoot back in a display of nonchalance. “What’d she have going on?”

  He snags the bag of Chips Ahoy! I have resting on my throw and crams about three in his mouth. Through crumbs he mutters, “Oh, she’s singing backup in this band with her brother-in-law and Sean.”

  “She is?” This must be connected to what Sammy said the other night. I feel kind of hurt she hasn’t mentioned it, but it’s not like she has to tell me anything. Backup in a band is a pretty big deal though, and I don’t know, but I feel kind of responsible for getting her onstage. Like maybe I would be someone she would tell.

  “Yeah.” Devon grabs another cookie. “Some kind of blackmail. She wouldn’t give me the details. But secretly, I think she’s kind of into it.”

  “Like into the music? Or into hanging out with Sean?”

  Devon side eyes me. “I don’t know if she is or not.”

  I don’t say anything else.

  He sighs. “So . . .”

  I glance away from the screen. “So?”

  “The other reason I look like death warmed over is I may have had a four-hour Skype conversation with a very attractive boy last night.”

  “What? Kush finally cave in to latent feelings?”

  “Pffft.” He waves the cookie. “I still think there may be some repressed longings lurking in that boy, but I’m better than that. C.A. introduced me to her cousin who lives in Bristol. Gil Dubois.”

  I watch him. My brother is glowing. “No fucking way, dude.”

  He grins. “Yep, insta-love. Insta-love is a thing and I’m here as the shining, bright star on the term paper example. And best thing of all. He’s out. At home. At school. No shame.”

  “Man, I’m happy for you.” I still don’t totally understand the mechanics of my brother’s future relationships, but it’s not about me. “Did you tell Amber?”

  Now he looks guilty. “No. I don’t know, I tell her everything. But this feels real, and I want to give it a chance to be something before I start being all dramatique about it.”