Rhythm & Clues: A Young Adult Novel (15 page)

I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, but I especially didn’t want to give Gavin the wrong idea. I pressed my palm on Gavin’s chest in a weak effort to push him away. Our hearts raced together, mine just a couple steps ahead of his, as if we were competing in a marathon and I always had a head start.

“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear, and I twisted my head to the side, facing away from him, watching as Harry grabbed Isla for a chat away from prying eyes. Becca kept glancing at her clipboard and then at me, probably keeping an eye on Gavin while Isla fought with her dad.

Gavin clamped his fingers around my waist, letting one palm linger on the small of my back. His hand moved away, and at first I was relieved, but when it came back. He caressed my lower back, and it was so wrong, but I didn’t want him to stop. I focused my attention on the walls, trying to read the graffiti. I didn’t want to think about what was happening. Here, with Gavin. Or even just here with the schoolmates I’d hated for so long. I’d never been drunk. With my heart condition, I treated my body as best I could, but I imagined this was how it would feel: blurry and dizzy and out of control.

II turned to Gavin to tell him this, or maybe tell him something like it. But when I spun around to face him, his smile stretched wider than I’d ever seen. And I smiled too. Because he was happy. Because I’d done that for him.

The hand on the small of my back suddenly clasped around the side of my hip and he tilted me forward, pressing his forehead against mine. Our lips were too close. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

I flinched away for a brief moment, and as I did, his hair fell into the small space between our foreheads. His arms were still around me, still caressing, and I hated that I couldn’t see his eyes behind the hair. So I lifted my hands and pushed it out of his face. I’d meant to stop there, but I found myself continuing, raking my hands through his soft, silky strands.

He closed his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of kissing him. It would have been perfect. Which was exactly why it wasn’t. I didn’t want to ruin this good thing by going and hooking up with him. If it got screwed up… it would Gavin a reason to run from me.

I pulled my hand away. Gavin’s eyes snapped open. The smile on his face melted away and when he saw the look on mine, he frowned. I needed an excuse. A discarded sharpie marker some girls used earlier in the night to inscribe the walls lay on the floor in front of us.

I bent down and retrieved it, lifting it up with a
ta-da
grin. Gavin squinted at me in confusion.

“To autograph this place.”

I scrambled off his lap and stood over him. “Moxie Crane– Backyard Rebels” joined “Dana wuz here” and “Finn loves Kasey.” I handed the pen to him.

“Think of it like a business owner hanging their first dollar. We’re marking our territory. Our first concert.” I waved my hands at the wall like I’d just done him a favor by granting him more space.

Gavin signed his name to the wall. While I capped the pen and returned it to the floor, Isla came in, kicked out the guy relaxing next to Gavin, and sat down. We’d left our mark on this place, but the older insignias faded over the years. New graffiti overwrote it. Isla might imprint Gavin with darker, fresher ink. I didn’t want him to run, but I also didn’t want to fade.

Present Day

O
utside the library window, Isla’s monster SUV parks in the front spot. I whisper to Sabrina, “So it’s now or never. Do we agree or not?”

Sabrina shrugs. “I still think it will be much easier if she knows about the clues. We have so many more places to hit. And if we do need to drive all the way to Lockhart…”

I sigh and pull out the big guns. “Do you feel like your friendship with Isla is strong enough that you want her to know about your parents taking off? Or how they boarded up the house? You know how she gossips.”

Sabrina groans. “Fine. But you gotta figure out a way to trick her into taking us wherever else we need to go.”

“Deal,” I say. Besides, Sabrina already did the hard part. She convinced Isla to come pick her and “a friend” up and get us in to see whatever band is playing at the all ages show tonight at The Mermaid Lounge.

Isla stops short when she spots me, then straightens her posture and stalks toward us. “You could have told me who your friend was, Sabrina.” She pushes out her cheek with her tongue. “My dad said you’re staying over tonight. Is that a trick too? Seems to be your thing because I went to see the band teacher this morning. About his appointment with Gavin? He didn’t know what I was talking about.” She turns around to leave.

I tug on her shirt. “Isla,” I say. She flicks me away but I keep up after her. “My car died. I really want to see the band tonight. Please. I’ll owe you big time.”

Her mouth turns up in the corners. “If you owe me, then let me join your band.”

I grit my teeth. Couldn’t she extract her revenge through humiliation? “I’ll think on it, okay? Why do you want to join
my
band, anyway? I’m sure Zack would love to jam with you.”

“Because Gavin has talent, and so do…” She pauses for a moment. I think she’s going to say
I
have talent too. But she recovers with, “And so do I.” She pushes her hair behind her ear. “If he insists you stay with us, then whatever. Speaking of Gavin. He wasn’t in school today.”

“Yeah, he’s home sick. That’s why Sabrina can’t stay at her house. He’s…contagious,” I say, trying to steer the subject further away from having to give her a concrete answer.

Isla’s brow furrows. She opens her mouth to protest, but Sabrina links her arm through hers. “I’m so excited you’re taking us to see Scream Arcade tonight. They’re seriously my favorite.”

“
Scream Parade
,” I correct under my breath. “Maybe we can go early?” I say fast to deflect. If I can convince Isla of this, the next step is prodding her into taking us backstage.

“We can’t go early. I’m not allowed there on a school night, and my dad will freak if he catches me there before the show starts. So we gotta wait until he’s distracted with business-y stuff.” She points her remote at the car and unlocks it.

Waiting until the club opens at eight will really screw up our timeline. But how can we convince Isla to take us to get the next clues without explaining ourselves. It’s worth a shot. “Hey, Isla. Want a rematch at skee ball? For old times’ sake? We can kill some time before the concert.”

She laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “I’m not driving all the way to the beach right now. Besides, I’m starving.”

Great. We need Isla to get us into the club, but she won’t take us there early. Maybe Gavin meant for this, meant for us to wait until tonight to get into Mermaid. I can’t decide if we’re wasting time or following his plan. It’s not like we have any other options right now. Or any other people to chauffeur us around.

Isla purses her lips. “Maybe we should bring Gavin some chicken soup? Poor guy, sick on the first day of school.”

“No!” Sabrina and I say too fast. “He’s super contagious,” I correct while Sabrina adds, “And sleeping.”

Isla nods. “Strange that he’s so sick when he seemed fine on Friday.”

Right, the
date
. Something tells me she’s going to bring this up a lot. Woohoo.

“The backstage area was practically empty,” she continues. “Had the couch all to ourselves.” Her eye twitches, but she doesn’t follow through with the wink.

Couch.
And suddenly it all comes together. Her date was a stop on Gavin’s quest to deposit the clues. “Oh my God. You took him to the Mermaid Lounge on Friday?” I fight a smile.

Her posture relaxes as if she’s been waiting for me to catch on. “Gavin asked me out after the whole beach escapade.” There’s a singsong lilt to her voice. “He seemed nervous—like he wanted to kiss me but was afraid.”

I hope nerves had nothing to do with it, but I don’t tell her that. Then again, I know nothing about his relationship with Isla. After all, they did spend a lot of time together during my two-week hiatus from him. And he still did kind of end things with me before they even started. Even though I feel my lips sagging into a frown, I defy as much gravity as I can to compose a smile on my face.

With Isla leading us, we bypass the line snaking around the side of the building and enter without showing tickets. Zack Bellinger steps out of the line and tries to tag along, but Isla shoos him away. Inside, Isla pushes through the mosh pit crowd and leads us to the front row. Canned music blasts from the speakers. She flashes her management pass at several people pressed against the edge of the stage. They shoot us dirty looks as they relinquish their spots.

I tap Sabrina on the shoulder. She bends to my height, and I whisper, “We need to go backstage.”

She nods and whispers something in Isla’s ear.

Isla hesitates, glancing from the stage to the back door.

“Am I in your band?” she asks me.

Does this mean she won’t take me backstage unless I agree? The night she performed with us here was strictly an emergency situation in my opinion, but there’s only one answer to this ultimatum. I meet her eyes while crossing my fingers behind my back. “Yeah. Sure.”

She stares at me for a moment. “You sound like you’re giving in.” She blinks rapidly. “God, I’m so stupid. I thought…never mind.” She tugs Sabrina by the arm toward the backstage area.

Sabrina’s eyes go wide. As she moves away from me, she mouths, “Stay.”

“Graffiti,” I yell. “The wall!”

That’s all I manage to get out before the crowd erupts in cheers. Isla and Sabrina disappear backstage just as Scream Parade takes their positions. Tattoos color their bare arms, so dense they could pass for long sleeves. Their wild hair bounces as they lope to their places, and they have enough piercings to make airport security quit their jobs. Instead of greeting the audience with a hello, or even just starting one of their songs, the lead singer grabs the mic stand, pulls it close to his body, and attempts to lose his voice by screaming as loud as possible.

I’m standing so close to the speaker that I jump and knock into the kid next to me. A domino effect ensues, and before the music even begins, I’ve started the mosh pit going. The music throbs in my ears, all screams and power chords.

I can’t get my bearings as the crowd envelopes me, pushing me one way and then the other. Hands grope my body, sometimes in places I don’t want them to touch. A mosher crashes into me, and I sail in the opposite direction until my shoulder slams into the speaker. I try to weave through the crowd, but the bodies form a thick fence around me.

The person next to me steps on his friend’s shoulder and ascends above the crowd like parade float. He knees me in the back of the head, and I duck to avoid further violence. I spend one second too long bent over, and the crowd crunches me. I fall to the floor, face first, my purse sandwiched between my chest and the floor, my palms pressed against the sticky ground.

Legs surround me like tall trees. Someone steps on my back, and I let out an oof, all the wind knocked out of me. I’m so petite, most people probably can’t see me from above. I try to push myself up, but someone kicks me back down. A shoe presses down on my fingertips, the pressure snapping my finger on impact. I cry out but no one hears. The space is too tight, and I have nowhere to go.