I glance around to get my bearings. Cambridge Drive is only about a ten-minute walk from here. I resume my pace and turn left at the next stop sign, ignoring my mother’s voice in my head. Just because my parents disapprove of my spending time with Ethan doesn’t mean I have to agree. Do they think avoiding him will make my guilt magically disappear? Right. If that were the case, I would’ve just stayed at Aunt Lydia’s.
As I turn onto Cambridge, my mind is suddenly engulfed in second thoughts. What if Ethan didn’t mean what he said as an invitation? Sure, he gave me the address, but he probably wasn’t expecting me to show up, especially not unannounced like this. I pause on the sidewalk and pull out my phone. The number I have for him is a year and a half old, but I send a quick hello text anyway, thinking maybe it’s still active. Then I start walking again, my steps so small it’s like I’m barely moving.
After five minutes, he still hasn’t answered. I stop for a second time, wondering if I should turn around and go home. But then I think about what he said to me—that music saved him—and I want more than anything to understand how something so simple can do something so incredibly powerful. I need to see it for myself.
I take a breath and keep going.
Sixty-three Cambridge Drive is a white split-level with red shutters. I rub my damp fingers on my pants and ring the doorbell. Moments later, the door swings open to reveal a plump woman with a short blond bob and square-framed glasses.
She seems way too normal and maternal to be badass rocker Hunter Finley’s mom.
“Hi,” I say when she smiles at me expectantly. “I’m looking for Hunter and, uh, Ethan?” I say it like I’m not sure he’s here, even though his car is parked along the curb in front of the house.
The woman’s smile grows warmer. “They’re out back, honey. Just pound on the door.”
“Thanks.” I step away and she smiles again before slipping back inside.
Out back. When Ethan said they practiced here, I pictured them in a basement or a garage, not somewhere behind the house. I go around to the backyard. Toward the far left corner, nestled a few feet from the tall privacy fence, stands a square beige structure that looks like an oversized shed. Is this “out back”? Even from several feet away, I can hear muffled drumbeats seeping through the building’s walls. The rhythm matches the dull thump in my head I have from crying. The reminder of how awful my eyes must look—not to mention the rest of me—should send me running back toward the street, but it doesn’t. The vibration of that barely audible music hums through the ground and straight into my feet, propelling them forward.
Seconds before I reach the shed, the door flings open, releasing a blast of sound and a guy around my age who I’ve never seen before in my life. I would’ve remembered. He’s slim and striking with black hair shaped into a kind of halfhearted Mohawk and a sculpted, almost delicate face. He pauses at the sight of me and I try not to stare at his eyes, which look like chips of blue-tinted ice against the light brown shade of his skin.
“Hi there,” he says, cocking his head at me. “Who are you?”
His voice is like honey over gravel. Lead singer, of course. I stuff my hands in my pockets and glance toward the still-open door. The music has been replaced by a collection of different voices. “I’m . . . a friend of Ethan’s.”
He smiles and takes a step forward, offering me his hand to shake. “I’m Kel. Ethan’s in there replacing a string on his Ibanez. Should I tell him you’re out here or did you plan on surprising him? Either way, you’ll probably make his day.”
I tug my hand out of his firm grip and stuff it back into my pocket. Confidence practically oozes from this guy’s pores. He knows he’s hot and he can tell I think so too. And I do, in the same way I might think a painting is pretty. I can appreciate the beauty in a technical, abstract way, but it doesn’t really do much for me. I haven’t been attracted to a guy since—
No. Not going there. A shiver runs through me and I push the memories back down.
“You guys are busy. I’ll just—” I turn to leave, already deeply regretting showing up here unannounced. What was I thinking? That because music helped Ethan heal, it would somehow help me too? So stupid.
“No, wait.” Kel holds up a hand to me as he leans his head in the shed door. “Hey, E. Leggy blonde here to see you.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder after he says this, and I feel my face flush.
Ethan bounds out the door, his gaze immediately landing on me. His expression wavers between confusion and surprise. Before he has a chance to say anything, Hunter Finley steps out of the shed, followed by a cute red-haired girl with a nose ring. They join our growing assembly on the lawn.
“Hi,” the girl says to me.
As I nod at her, it hits me that she sits two tables behind me in chemistry. Since I’m not exactly social at school these days, I’m able to spend a lot of time listening in on conversations around me. So I already know her name is Noelle Jacobs and that she moved here last year, while I was away. I also know she’s been dating Hunter since the summer. What I don’t know is whether she’s aware of who I am. Her expression isn’t telling me anything. She just looks friendly.
Ethan walks over to me, his features relaxing as he adjusts to the shock of my presence. “Guys, this is Dara. She’s, um, an old friend of mine. We go way back.”
I don’t miss the sudden comprehension that flashes across Kel’s face at the sound of my name. He’s heard of me. He knows what I did. They all do. Something like that is impossible to hide from your friends, especially when some of those friends go to Hadfield High. They’ve probably heard the rumors too. Any second now, they’ll start asking questions.
Don’t be such a coward, I tell myself as they all stare at me. Stand here and take whatever they want to dish out. If you can do it at school, you can do it here too.
But then I look at Ethan and see the anxiety on his face, and my brief surge of bravery starts to falter. This isn’t three nosy strangers cornering me by the music room. These are his friends. He shouldn’t have to defend me to them.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted your practice.” I quickly turn from the group and head toward the street and freedom. This was too much, too soon. I should have tried reconnecting with him one-on-one before showing up here and making a fool out of myself in front of his friends.
“Dara, wait!” Ethan catches up and slips in front of me, blocking my path. “Don’t leave. Please. I was just surprised to see you, okay? I didn’t expect—”
“I know,” I say, skirting around him.
“No. You don’t know.” He moves in front of me again, his hand lifting to touch my arm. Seeing the warning in my eyes, he quickly drops it. “Please,” he says again. “Stick around for a bit. You still haven’t met Corey, our bass player. His girlfriend’s here too. Julia. You can’t leave without meeting everyone and hearing us play.”
My head starts thumping again, only now there’s no rhythm to it at all. It’s erratic and painful and I know it won’t let up until I’m home, alone in my room.
“I have to go, Ethan,” I say.
This time, when I brush past him, he doesn’t try to stop me. This time, it’s me who disappears just as fast as I arrived.
twelve
Sophomore Year