She flaps her hands in reply as she paces the small, rundown courtyard.
“Yes. Okay. Oh my god… thank you, thank you so much. We’ll see you then.” She turns to me, a smile and a look of disbelief on her face.
“We got the audition!” she squeals as she pulls me up for a hug.
I scream in return. It takes a few moments for the words to sink in.
We did it.We fucking did it.
Harper stops suddenly, pulling away, her face scrunched up in concentration. “Okay, we’ll need to have an emergency practice tonight because the audition is tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I blurt out, nerves making my voice rise a couple of octaves.
“Yeah, I forgot that part. I was too fucking excited that we got it.” She takes my hands and gives me serious puppy dog eyes.
“We’re not ready, Harp,” I say, apprehension building in my stomach, pushing a wave of nausea upwards.
“I couldn’t say no, could I?” She raises her hands in defence.
I release a breath as my legs begin to shake, and it’s not from the cool October breeze. The thought of hundreds of people looking up at us, watching us through every bum note and every missed chord is enough to send me into a fucking coma.
My skin prickles in anticipation. The idea of the lights hitting me is enough to make me want to vomit over the torn-up astroturf at my feet. I can already hear the feedback screech of a bad setting or the boos of the crowd.
What if my fingers lock up?
What if my brain goes blank and every chord I’ve ever known evaporates from existence?
What if they finally realize they made a mistake choosing me to play with them?
The nausea rises higher and higher, and I swallow it down.
“Okay,I’mnot ready,” I admit quietly. “You guys have been together forever. I’m new, I can’t do this.”
Harper takes my shaking hands again and looks me in the eye.
“We never played this well without you, Kat.” Her words are gentle yet firm. “If we’d done the audition with Mark, we wouldn’t have even gotten a call back. You are a part of this dysfunctional, fucked-up family whether you like it or not.”
I let out a shaky chortle as her words linger in the air.
Family.
Three
Kat
Something In The Way – Nirvana
“T
hank you,” I mumble to the driver before stepping off the bus and beginning my short walk.
Streetlights buzz overhead, the ground slick with rain as I dodge the gum and cigarette butts littering the sidewalk. The smell of exhaust fumes and damp permeates the air. Sirens wail somewhere in the distance, cutting through the otherwise empty streets.
A bottle clatters behind me. I jump and glance over my shoulder. Just a raccoon rifling through the trash. I let out a breath and shake my head at myself.
I shiver, pulling my jacket tight around me as I continue walking. This area of Bridgeport isn’t the nicest—one wrong turn and instead of evading gum, you’re playing The Floor Is Lava with needles.
A cold gust of wind slides under my hood, pulling at my damp hair. My jacket clings to my back and my gloves are soaked through. I keep my head down and my pace steady. This part of the city has ingrained in me three things: don’t invite attention,walk quickly, and always carry your keys between your knuckles. The last part, I almost always do anywhere in this city.
