7

Come Back Home

Justin pulled up to the curb in front of the house Zoey pointed out. The dull brown and white exterior wasn’t impressive. The paint flaked, the gutters dangled, and the shutters hung crooked. But home maintenance skills had nothing to do with music.

“You promised not to say anything.” Zoey gave him a pointed look, as if she didn’t trust him.

“I remember.” He tried not to sound offended but wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Want me to put duct tape over my mouth?”

She didn’t look amused. “The lyrics aren’t like ours, OK? Just remember your promise.”

When had Zoey stopped trusting him? He’d asked to see her lyrics again, still curious about her new songs, but she made excuses like, “I’ve scribbled too much on them.” Scribbled what? He’d seen the notes she made to herself about pitch and pacing on her old lyric sheets—his lyric sheets. But with Aurora Fire’s music, she was so secretive.

Pushing aside his worries, he climbed out of the car, and they walked through the overgrown grass. She led the way through the unlocked front door, as if she belonged. But she’d known Aurora Fire less than two weeks.

He squinted in the dark interior and took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling against the strange mixture of ramen noodles and body odor with the hint of something like pizza.

Zoey dropped his hand, and he followed her down a flight of stairs.

Stepping into the basement, he forgot his annoyance. This was the practice space he’d fantasized about. Florescent lighting shone on a rack of shining guitars—three electric, two acoustic—amps and speakers. Against one wall a computer, headphones, and recording equipment sat on a desk. He practically drooled. Maybe they could find room for him.

“Hey, Zoey.”

The voice behind him tugged at a memory. He tore his gaze away from the practice setup.

“Hi,” Zoey said.

Justin stared, recognition pouring over him like ice water. The hair was longer, and he was taller, but Justin knew Vance Barton. He’d been like a big brother to Justin—until everyone found out about their parents’ affair.

“You moved back.” Justin said the first thing that popped into his head.

Vance’s face clouded for a moment. “Justin Conrad? No way.” His lip curled. “I hear your parents are still pretending to be happily married.”

“They are happy.” Justin’s hands tightened into fists.

“That’s so cute. But time to grow up, kid.” The big brother tone Justin remembered was now lost to bitterness. “Women lie, cheat, manipulate, destroy. You can never trust ’em.”

Justin glanced at Zoey. He trusted her. But the look on her face wasn’t trusting. Too late, he remembered his promise. He hadn’t even kept quiet for five minutes.

“Isn’t it time to practice?” Zoey glanced back and forth between them and twisted her necklace.

“Yeah, whatever.” Vance shot Justin a glare and moved to yell up the stairs. “Get down here and practice!”

Justin’s shoulders ached. He didn’t know what he’d expected exactly, but it wasn’t this. Zoey’s frown said she regretted letting him come, and he regretted it too. But what had happened between his and Vance’s parents was in the past. Right now he needed to make sure he stayed in Zoey’s future.

“You can sit over here.” Zoey tugged him to the beat-up couch facing the amps and speakers.

Stains overlapped on the pale green cushions, and foam peaked out where the fabric had worn a hole. Justin sat down, his nostrils flaring at the stench of dog. He glanced around. The equipment looked less shiny now.

Feet thundered down the stairs. Then three guys and a girl walked into the room and took their positions.

“Who’re you?” The girl flopped onto the couch beside him. Her shoulder-length hair was cotton-candy pink, and she had as many rings in her ears as she had on her hands.

“Justin.” He smiled, but his friendliness wasn’t reflected on her face. “Zoey’s boyfriend.”

“Really? Huh.” Her gaze rolled over him. “I totally didn’t expect her to go for the boy-next-door cliché.”

Justin glanced at his striped tee and unripped jeans. At least Mom had quit ironing a crease down his pant legs.

A few feet away, Vance gave directions to Zoey and the guys, but Zoey was eyeing him and the girl. Zoey fit in with her black skinny jeans and local band tee.

“So what’s your name?” He attempted conversation with the girl.

“Bailee.” She smacked her gum, a fresh, fruity stick based on the smell of it and nodded toward the drummer. “I’m with Myles.”

Aurora Fire started tuning. Justin watched Zoey. Her lips moved silently running over the lyrics between sips of water.

“Your girlfriend better step it up.” Bailee sounded like the band’s manager issuing ultimatums and threats.

Zoey glanced up.

“What d’you mean?” Justin asked.

“I mean, she better figure out whatever her problem is before Saturday. She’s not going to mess things up.”

Zoey lowered her gaze back to the paper in her hand, but her cheeks reddened.

“That won’t happen.” His hands curled into fists again. What was with this crowd and their insults? “Zoey’s good.”

Bailee snorted and flipped open a magazine. “You obviously haven’t heard her lately.”

He looked at Zoey. The edges of the paper crumpled within her fists.

“OK, let’s get started,” Vance said.

Justin kept his attention on Zoey while Vance led them in on his guitar. But she avoided looking at him.

Zoey comparing Aurora Fire to a heavy metal band had been right, and her vocals made an interesting twist. Vance did the screams. Sawyer would probably like the concert Saturday night.

After a few measures, his gaze wandered to Vance’s flashing fingers. Vance had spent hours with Justin on an acoustic guitar, entertaining him and teaching him when Justin’s hands were barely big enough to form the chords. The awe from those days returned, and his fingers twitched to join. But watching Vance’s complicated chord changes, Justin felt as if he hadn’t advanced beyond D7 and C.

Then he heard the problem. Zoey’s voice broke in the middle of a line, and she stuttered. Straining to catch every word, he heard her voice crack again. The lyrics sank in and formed a rock in his chest. Now he knew what Zoey meant by Aurora Fire not being anything close to Christian.

“See?” Bailee leaned over, triumph in her voice. As if she wanted to see Zoey—and Aurora Fire—fail. “Crash and burn every practice. It’s pathetic, like she can’t even sing.”

“It’s not her singing,” Justin said. “It’s the lyrics.”

“Excuse me?” Bailee tossed aside her magazine, her eyebrows rising in twin arches. “The lyrics are excellent. Your girlfriend’s the problem.”

Vance slammed down the final chord and glared. “You know the rule: If you’re not listening, get out.”

“Whatever.” Bailee flopped back into her corner of the couch and opened her magazine again.

Justin glanced at Zoey and tried to smile, but his attempt didn’t erase her look of irritation. Why was she determined to choose these guys—and their cursing—over him?

He settled against the lumpy cushion. The next song began, and he pulled a guitar pick from his pocket. After practice, he’d talk to her, get her to see she didn’t belong here. If the band agreed with Bailee even a little, they probably wouldn’t be upset when she bowed out.

The tension in Justin’s shoulders finally eased. All Zoey needed was permission to quit, and he’d give it to her.

~*~

To Justin’s relief, Zoey showed no interest in hanging around after practice. She told the guys she’d see them Thursday and then shot him a let’s-get-out-of-here look.

They retraced their path through the house. He stayed on her heels. When they got outside, he launched his plan. “Why are you trying to sing with them?”

“So how weird is it to see your old friend Vance again?” She sidestepped both him and his question on the porch steps.

“Yeah, weird.”

“Think you two will start hanging out again? Maybe play together?”

“Probably not.” During a song about a cheater and thief, Vance had screamed the lyrics right at Justin, as if to cuss him out. Like what had happened was his fault. Wasn’t as if he’d introduced Mom to Vance’s dad. Anyway, it didn’t matter much now. Their friendship was long over, like Vance’s parents’ marriage, and Justin wasn’t interested in talking about it.

“You know,” he began again, “you can quit.”

“Why would I do that?” Zoey stopped on the edge of the grass, crossed her arms, and shot him a heated look.

“Because you don’t want to sing with them.”

“And how would you know that?”

He knew because her voice cracked in every song. Why else would she have so much trouble singing unless she didn’t really want to?

“This is a good opportunity for me,” she added.

“But you’re tripping over the words. You don’t even look like you’re having fun.”

“Are you saying my singing isn’t good?”

“No.” He’d never say that to her, even if he thought it were true. Which he didn’t. “Your singing was great. It always is. But some of the lyrics…you had trouble.”

“I warned you that the songs weren’t like yours.”

“I know. But I thought you meant they didn’t mention God and stuff. Not that you’d be swearing more than Sawyer. What’s Livvy going to say when she hears you on Saturday? Or your dad?”

Zoey winced and glanced away, before looking back with an even fiercer fire in her eyes. “This is about Vance, isn’t it?”

“What?” Why had Vance come up again?

“You don’t want me in Aurora Fire because you’ve got some problem with Vance.”

“That has nothing to do with it.” A sickening feeling soured his stomach. “But since you brought him up, you really want to play with him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because of what he said about women. I don’t even know why he’d want a girl in his band if he feels that way.”

“Maybe he’s able to put aside his feelings and do what’s best for his band.”

The words smashed his core. All he ever did was put aside his feelings. Especially with Zoey. He arranged his schedule to fit hers, ate her favorite foods, listened to her favorite bands.

“I’m sorry.” Zoey stepped back, head hanging. “Just take me home.”

“I thought we were going to hang out at my house.” He needed time with her now, to show he wasn’t upset. Even if he was.

“Now I just want to go home.” She climbed into the car.

He stood frozen. What had happened? She shouldn’t be singing with Aurora Fire. He knew that, and she did too. So why did he feel like a jerk for offering her an out? Pulling his keys from his pocket, he got behind the wheel. “Zoey, I—”

“I have to do this, OK? I committed to Aurora Fire and I can’t fail.” She set her jaw and dared him to argue.

He wanted to. He wanted to assure her that admitting Aurora Fire was wrong for her wasn’t failure. But he knew what she didn’t want to hear, so he said nothing.

The drive was silent. When he turned into her driveway, he hoped she’d change her mind. But she got out slamming the door behind her.

He gripped the steering wheel and watched her march across the lawn. “C’mon, Zo,” he muttered. “One glance.” So I know you don’t hate me.

But she didn’t look back.

The storm door flashed open and swung back shutting with finality.