43

I Never Said I Was Through With You

Sawyer lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. He could probably map out every bump up there now, but he had no reason to get up. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see.

Screams and pounding bass blasted from his speakers. Mom was at work, so no one was bothered by the deafening music. He crossed his arms and imagined lines connected the ceiling bumps into shapes. Monsters, horned demons, writhing spirits. What would Mom say if he used a pen to trace those pictures?

A banging rattled his windows, and he sat straight up.

What the—?

He peeked through the blinds. Zoey wiggled her fingers at him, an I’m-not-leaving-until-you-talk-to-me look on her face.

Sawyer pulled back from the window. What was she doing here? And did he really want to know? Zoey had caused enough problems over the last few weeks. But he swung his feet over the side of the bed and grabbed a shirt. He had nothing to lose. After switching off the music, he headed for the front door.

Zoey and Chey were on the steps.

He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he’d fallen back asleep and was dreaming. Or maybe they were here to jump him and beat him up.

“Hi.” Zoey’s smile downgraded from determined to uncertain.

Chey hung back avoiding his gaze as if she didn’t quite want to be there.

A lump filled his throat. It felt like the word sorry. But he couldn’t bring himself to let the word out. Instead, he swallowed it back into the pit of things-he-should’ve-said-but-didn’t. “Hey.” He stretched the word into a question.

“Chey and I talked. I told her what happened Friday night. Everything. And she's forgiven me,” Zoey said.

“OK.” He twisted the doorknob behind his back to make sure the door was unlocked before pulling it closed. Mosquitoes buzzed around, and nothing was worse than a rogue mosquito in the house sucking blood while people slept.

“Chey and I are good now.” Zoey glanced over her shoulder at Chey as if to double-check.

Chey nodded, but her expression didn’t exactly look as if all was good. Then again, maybe things were good between Chey and Zoey but not between Chey and Sawyer.

Sawyer scrubbed a hand over his face. Where was Zoey going with this anyway?

“But we’ve still got a problem.” Zoey swept her finger around at all of them. “The three of us, we’re all without a band, and we need one.” Why were they telling him? He knew that better than anybody.

“Do you have the flier?” Zoey asked Chey.

Chey handed her a folded paper. Zoey flipped it open and passed it to Sawyer.

He glanced down. “Poor and Loud.” A free concert this coming weekend featuring local artists. Why were they showing him? Were they inviting him? “Yeah, I remember this. We went last year.”

Zoey nodded. “And Chey volunteered you to play this year.”

“Me?” He looked at Chey, but she avoided eye contact. If she was still mad at him, why’d she come?

“Not just you.” Zoey stabbed out the last word as if Sawyer was being stupid. “The two of you. Your band. And I thought you might let me join.”

“We have a band?” Sawyer rubbed his eyes again. This was insane. Had to be a dream. He slapped a mosquito. “The concert is this Saturday. There’s no way.”

Zoey looked at Chey, and some sort of silent communication passed between them. Chey climbed to the step right below him.

“Why not?” She raised her chin and made dead-on, right-in-the-eyes contact. Whatever anger or embarrassment or insecurity she’d felt before had been erased.

“A drummer, a bassist, and a keyboardist who doesn’t know what she’s doing? No offense,” he added at the flicker of hurt in Chey’s eyes. “But we’re not a band. And we can’t be one by Saturday.”

“So you were lying when you said that you and me could be a band if we performed?” Her chin rose higher, her eyes flashed.

“No. I also said you needed to know more than one song. How are we going to do that in five days? And I said you needed a name. I bet whoever you talked to didn’t even take you seriously.”

“I gave them a name.”

“You did? What?”

“You, Me, and a CD.” She spoke barely loud enough for him to hear.

She had to be joking, but the embarrassment written on her face said she was serious. He burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you used that. It’s got to be the lamest name.”

“Yeah, well at least I’m doing something.” Chey stepped onto the top step crowding him on the narrow, concrete rectangle. “Are you too scared to try?”

“I’m not scared. I’m being realistic.”

“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms, and her diamond stud wiggled.

What would that feel like if he kissed her? Would it get in the way? Cut his lip? This was probably not the time to find out.

“What do we have to lose by trying?” Chey’s demand included a slight tremble.

“Our reputation?” Standing so close, her scent of oranges and maple syrup overwhelmed him. The temperature rose by ten degrees. He was in no hurry to escape.

“As You, Me, and a CD?” She cocked an eyebrow. “If we sound terrible, we’ll change our name and reinvent ourselves.”

“We’re changing the name period.”

“So you’re in?”

Right now, she could probably talk him into anything. Agreeing to be a drummer in a band—even the worst band in history—was easy. “We’ll have to spend every waking moment practicing.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Nothing better to do than practice. That had to be the best thing a girl had ever said.

“But with my mom’s job, we won’t be able to practice that much.”

“My house.” Zoey’s interruption cut through the heat between Sawyer and Chey like a northern wind on a steamy hot day. He’d forgotten Zoey was here. He wished she wasn’t.

“We have to practice at my house.” She continued talking as if she couldn’t tell Sawyer wanted to push her away from the steps. Maybe he’d lost his edge. “I’m kind of grounded because of yesterday.” She blushed. “Anyway, my dad says if we set up at my house, I can play with you.”

“Guess we can’t do this without you.” He spoke half under his breath. Hanging out alone with Chey would be better. But he and Chey didn’t make much of a band.

“Told you he’d only agree if you asked.” Zoey flashed Chey a grin.

Chey glanced away, her stud jiggling crazily as if it might fall out.

“I’ll go take apart the drums.” He opened the door. “You coming to get the keyboard? Unless you’ve decided I can touch it now.”

“I don’t think so.” Chey entered the house behind him. “I’ll pack it up.”

Five minutes ago, he’d had no band. Now he had a band and a show. Sure, he’d probably mess everything up again by tomorrow, but at least he knew things wouldn’t stay messed up forever.