“No,” Lilith said. “I came to work on something. Privately. I don’t even have my guitar.”
Cam was already inside the band closet, pulling one from a case. He walked toward Lilith and rested the guitar in her hands, reaching behind her head to drape the strap over her shoulders. It was a Les Paul, with a thin neck and a cool silver spray-paint job on its fingerboard. She’d never held such a nice guitar before.
“Now what’s your excuse?” Cam asked softly. His hands stayed at the nape of her neck longer than they needed to, like he didn’t want to pull away.
So she did.
The smile on Cam’s lips vanished, as if she’d hurt him somehow.
If she had, she told herself she didn’t care. She didn’t know why he was being so forward, what he meant by encouraging her music.
She thought about Chloe King, how rude she’d been to her about the open mic performance. It was the only time Lilith had ever played in public. Holding this guitar, she realized that she didn’t want it to be the last.
It didn’t mean they were starting a band. They could just, as Cam said, jam.
“What do I do?” she said, feeling vulnerable. She didn’t like being at anyone’s mercy—especially Cam’s.
Silently, Cam guided her hand up the guitar’s warm neck. His right hand traced hers over the strings. She swayed a little.
“You know what to do,” Cam said.
“I don’t. I’ve never—with other people—I…”
“Just start playing,” Cam said. “Wherever you go, we’ll follow you.”
He nodded at Jean, who tapped his drumsticks together four times as Cam grabbed the slim green Jaguar bass with the vintage-style tremolo arm.
And then, like it was no big deal, Lilith set her fingers free.
Her guitar locked in with Jean Ra’s kick drum like a heartbeat. Cam’s scratchy chords crisscrossed the heavy rhythm like a Kurt-Cobain-and-Joe-Strummer hybrid. Every now and then, Jean fingered the short, black Moog synthesizer that sat next to his drum kit. The synth chords buzzed like fat and friendly bees, their vibrations finding safe homes in the spaces left by the other instruments.
After a while, Cam lifted his hand into the air. Lilith and Jean stopped playing. They could all sense they were onto something.
“Let’s move on to some vocals,” Cam said.
“You mean, like, now?” Lilith asked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Cam flipped a switch and tested the mic with a fingertip, then aimed the mic at Lilith and stepped back. “How about the song you sang yesterday?”
“?‘Exile,’?” Lilith said, her heart racing. She took out her journal, the one with all her lyrics, but then she thought back to the day before, how much everyone had hated her performance. What was she doing? Performing in front of anyone else was only going to cause her more humiliation.
Then she thought of Ike Ligon singing her song in front of the entire school.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Softly, Cam said, “One, two, three, four,” and he and Jean began. Cam motioned for Lilith to start singing.
She couldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.
Everything, she wanted to say. The only thing Lilith had ever known was disappointment. Nothing in her life ever worked out. Which, for the most part, was okay, because she never let herself expect anything, so she never really cared.
But this? Music?
It mattered to her. If she sang and she sucked, or if her song wasn’t chosen for the battle, or if she, Cam, and Jean started a band and it all fell apart, Lilith would lose the only thing she cared about. The stakes were too high.
Best to back away now.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?” Cam asked. “We’re good together. You know that—”
“I don’t know that.” Her eyes met Cam’s, and she felt tense, like a wire about to snap. She remembered her conversation with Luc that morning, and the chorus of Dismorphia’s “Death of Stars” started playing in her mind:
The stars are on your face tonight
There is no outer space tonight
“What is it?” Cam said.
Should she ask him about the song? And the girl? Was that crazy?
What if Cam was a lyric thief? What if that was the real, secret reason he wanted to start a band with her? Aside from her guitar, Lilith’s songs were the only things she valued. Without them, she had nothing.
“I have to go,” Lilith said. She set down the guitar and grabbed her bag. “And I’m not entering my lyrics in the competition. It’s over.”
“Wait—” Cam called, but she was already out the band room door.