Harmonic Feedback (13 page)

She squatted next to him with a smirk. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

He played an E-minor chord. “Go dance, Naomi.”

I wondered if he felt embarrassed like I did when she asked those questions. Maybe he was like me and didn’t want people to know what a dork he was.

“It’s okay.” She pinched his cheek. “Drea’s a great kisser—I speak from experience. I’m sure she can show you a few other things too.”

“Naomi!” At that moment, I really wanted to die. Or maybe hit her with a baseball bat. “Would you shut up?”

Justin raised his eyebrows, an odd smile on his face.

Naomi rolled her eyes at me. “It’s not a big deal, Drea. It probably turns him on.”

“Not really,” he said, tapping the high keys gently. “Do you think you’re the first straight girl to kiss another girl for shock value?”

“We were by ourselves. And what makes you think I’m straight?” she asked.

“Because I’ve got amazing gaydar.”

“I don’t put labels on myself,” she said. “I just am.”

“Okay, so go
be
over there.” He waved toward the open space in front of my bed.

Naomi ruffled my hair before collapsing on the bed, her legs dangling over the side. I settled into my computer chair, hoping she’d be quiet for a while.

Justin began with a chord progression that instantly connected with me. My fingertips buzzed with anticipation, and I heard a billion different guitar melodies over the top. Maybe a gentle synth—bell-like without the piercing edge. He closed his eyes as each chord rang out, letting them bleed together and create the perfect mix of colors. Blue entwined with varying shades of gray. Like the drizzle outside. Comforting but a little sad. Then he played a fast, erratic melody with his right hand. Every note made me shiver, each one building into something even more amazing.

Naomi rolled off the bed, humming a melody of her own over the top. She walked up behind Justin and tapped his shoulder. “Can you play just the chords?”

“Sure,” he said, going back to the original progression.

She closed her eyes, fingers tapping against her ripped jeans. Her lips moved slightly with each chord change. “She smiles with grace, but no one recalls her face,” she sang. “Invisible… carved between the walls.”

I guessed at Justin’s tempo, setting it around 100bpm, and fished around for some drum samples. Most of the time I’d start with a loop that felt right—couldn’t explain why. Then I’d EQ the sound so it fit the tone of the song and add more drum samples from there. This song had a real trip-hop feel to it—slow, dark, and catchy. I found a bouncy beat and distorted the drums a bit. Naomi could play a live beat later, and I’d combine the two.

“I like that,” Justin said to me.

“Tempo okay?”

He nodded. “I can work with it.”

Naomi still had her eyes shut, nodding to the beat now. “She knows her place in this world. She can tear down its walls, and still nobody knows her name.”

Justin stopped playing and shook his head. “You’ve got an incredible voice, Naomi.”

She bit her lip, eyeing both of us. “Really? I don’t sound stupid?”

“No,” I said. “You’re giving me chills—both of you are.” I walked over and opened the case of my twelve-string acoustic. Another cheap and rare find from an online acquaintance.

Justin raised his eyebrows at my guitar. “Interesting choice.”

“Start again,” I said, setting the drums to loop mode and cranking the volume.

Layering the guitar chords on top of the piano gave the song a dreamy atmosphere. But Justin’s melody and Naomi’s vocals took the song to a place I could never go on my own. It tore at my gut and haunted my mind until all I wanted to do was get lost in it for hours. After our third time through, I decided to record the piano and guitar. Naomi insisted on reworking her lyrics before recording.

“Okay, Drea? If you don’t let Justin join our band, I’m seriously going to smack you,” Naomi decided.

I stared back at my computer screen, wanting nothing more but too afraid to ask. “You can join—if you want to.”

“Nah, I’ve got better things to do,” he said.

I swiveled to look at his grinning face.

“Smile, I’m only kidding.”

I didn’t find it very funny. He obviously had no idea how hard this was for me.

“But I’m only joining on two conditions,” he said. “One, I get to use my keyboard. And two, nobody shows up to practice wasted.”

“Fine by me,” I said.

“Hey,” Naomi pouted, “I sang better today than I ever have.”

“That’s what it seems like. Trust me, I’ve been in bands before. It always becomes a problem.” He looked down at his hands. “Anyway, I’m digging our sound so far. Reminds me a little of Portishead.”

“What did you play before?” I asked.

“You name it. Mostly metal, though.”

“With a piano?” Naomi picked up the water bottle and took a big gulp.

He shrugged. “Why not? Sounds like you need to expand your horizons.”

“She does.”

Naomi held her hands up. “Hey, I already told you I’m clueless, Drea.” She scanned the room. “So, why aren’t these walls painted yet?”

“I was going to pick up some paint this weekend and do it.”

“Okay, I’m
so
helping! I’ll bring
Ferris Bueller
—we’ll make a slumber party out of it.” She smiled at Justin. “Wanna join us?”

He chuckled and stood up. “No, thanks. I’ve gotta work.”

Her eyes widened. “You work?”

“Yeah, believe it or not. The rich boy works. Speaking of which”—he looked down at his watch—“I’m already running late.”

“How’d you score a job here so fast? I’ve been looking all summer,” Naomi said.

“My brother-in-law runs a computer repair shop on Lakeway. I’m his newest tech.”

I ejected his CD out of the computer and handed it back to him. “Well, um, thanks for the Black Lab and the ride and stuff.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes intense with something I couldn’t even pinpoint.

“She’s kind of adorable, isn’t she?” Naomi asked.

I focused on his tennis shoes. Dirt was caked around the rims, and one of his laces was coming loose.

“Yeah, she’s kind of a lot of things.” His voice was soft, like he meant it as a compliment. But a lot of things could mean, well,
anything
.

“You should double knot your laces.” I pointed at his shoes.

Naomi giggled and plopped on my bed again, and Justin let out what sounded like a soft laugh. I looked up at him hesitantly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smirking. “I’m off Friday, though. We should—”

“Make out!” Naomi shouted.

Justin rolled his eyes. “Practice. And come up with a name for our band.” He brushed his fingers against my arm. “See you later.”

“See ya.” The sensation of his brief touch traveled to my fingertips.

Naomi had the decency to wait until he left before announcing her thoughts. “Oh my God, he totally wants you! You are so lucky.”

O
N WEDNESDAY
, Naomi insisted on getting a pint of cookie dough ice cream after Justin dropped us off. I hated that he had work. All I’d wanted to do since Monday was make music with both of them.

Naomi kept trying to tickle me as we walked to the grocery store. It made me feel like crawling out of my skin.

“Stop!” I said finally.

Her hands went up. “God, you don’t have to freak out like that.”

“I really hate being tickled.”

She kicked a rock in front of her. “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

My heart sped up a little. We got to the end of our street and rounded the corner. “What do you mean?”

She moved a little closer to me. “Well, if you ever want to talk about, you know, whatever, I’m here, okay? You can tell me anything.”

Right then, I wanted to tell her. But the thought of trying to explain everything I wasn’t made me cringe inside. All it would take was for her to hear the term
autistic
. And she’d think the worst, like that kid in my class last spring. What if she thought I was retarded? I couldn’t risk it.

Naomi decided she wanted rocky road when we walked into the ice cream aisle. She grabbed a pint, studied it, and then put it back. “Actually, cookie dough still sounds better. You like that, right?”

“It’s got chocolate chips in it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, what kind will you eat?”

“I like vanilla.”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “But what do you put on it? Granola? Strawberry sauce?”

“I just eat it plain.”

“Oh my God, no! That’s so boring. I’ll go crazy.”

“Then get whatever. I don’t need to eat it.”

She grabbed a vanilla pint out of the freezer and tossed it in the basket. “No way am I pigging out alone. I’ll just get some chocolate sauce to put on mine.”

I plucked it out. “You shouldn’t grab the first one.”

“Okay,
why
?”

This wouldn’t be easy to explain. It was just something I had to do. Somewhere along the line I’d convinced myself that the first package on every shelf was contaminated or damaged somehow. The SNRI the psychiatrist prescribed was supposed to help with my more obsessive behaviors, but antidepressants took weeks to start working. “This one was leaking,” I said, shoving it back in the freezer and reaching for the next pint.

She took it from me, shaking her head. “It looked just fine to me.”

“Wait.” I snatched the pint back and scanned it. “You should always check the date on food before you buy it.”

“Drea, it’s ice cream. It doesn’t expire.”

“Yes, it does. See? Right here.”

“Awesome, can we move on now before it melts?”

I nodded and tried to mimic one of her wide smiles. She didn’t grin back that time.

When we got back to my house, I made Naomi go downstairs. If Grandma saw us eating ice cream before dinner, she’d flip out. Not to mention, no food was allowed outside the kitchen.

I had about two spoonfuls before the nausea set in, and I sat against my headboard. The new adhd meds had yet to improve my appetite.

Naomi devoured another bite and squirted chocolate sauce in her mouth. “No wonder you’re so skinny. You never eat.” She sat on my bed and licked the remaining sludge from the spoon.

“I eat. I’m just not hungry right now.”

She took another bite, closing her eyes. I wished I knew what that felt like—to really enjoy something. Grandma’s cooking was horrid, but liking something meant I tolerated it. The texture or spices didn’t make me gag.

Naomi put the ice cream on the floor and scooted next to me, close enough so our shoulders touched. “Want to make out?” she asked with a smile.

“No.”

“Gee”—she leaned harder into me—“tell me how you really feel.”

I moved away so we had a few inches of space between us. “I just did.”

“I was only kidding. You don’t do it for me, either. Can we still be friends?” She giggled.

I looked at her. The sparkles on her eyelids matched her blue irises. “Of course. You want to, right? Be my friend?”

Her grin faded as she studied my face. “Duh. You’re real, you know?”

“Last time I checked.”

Naomi laughed and rested her head against my shoulder. It made me stiffen at first, but I relaxed as she spoke.

She told me about the cross-country roadtrip in her head. It involved a fast car with the top down. Didn’t matter what kind of car, just as long as it was black and fast. A guy with dark blue eyes and
golden
hair, not blond, would be driving. But he’d let her take the wheel at least half the time. They’d get lost in the mountains at least once and keep each other warm all night. And they’d take pictures of every cool moment. The trucker dives, the cheap motels, the scenery whizzing by—everything would be recorded forever.

“And when we fought,” she continued, “we’d have amazing make-up sex in the back seat.”

My body tensed at her words. That wasn’t something I wanted to picture.

“Then afterward,” she sighed, “we’d split a doobie and fall asleep under the stars—or on a rickety hotel bed. Whatever we could afford that night.”

“A doobie?”

“Yeah, yeah. No drugs for you, right?” She nudged me. “Little Miss Squeaky Clean.”

I looked away, clutching the cover underneath me. “Drugs don’t do for me what they do for you.”

“What’s
your
dream?” she asked.

“My dream?”

“Yeah, what is one thing you want to do before you die?”

I wanted to get through another day without being found out. I wanted Naomi and Justin to like me. I wanted to experience a real kiss and see those stars everyone talked about. “I’m pretty simple, really. I want to produce music and make it sound just the way I hear it. So many songs are missing that vibration, the kind that moves through my body and makes the world vivid. I want to see colors I never knew existed.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, running her finger along her mouth. “That’s exactly what I love about being high. I guess music is your drug of choice.”

I nodded and smiled. It was good to feel understood, even for just a moment.