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Don’t get in any other people’s way, Birdy!
That voice.
I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before since the sound of people’s voices is how I distinguish one person from the other; then again, I had other, more important things on my mind. I’ve been so focused on the conversation itself, on the fact that he almost made me face plant, that I didn’t pay attention towhowas speaking.
But now that I’m all alone, still fuming, I can’t help but repeat the words in my head over and over.
The soft growly note.
The deep baritone.
Don’t get in any other people’s way, Birdy!
I’ve heard that voice before.
I’ve listened to it for years, sometimes on repeat. His music, my hold onto reality.
“It’s not possible,” I shake my head, my fingers sinking into Henry’s fur.
Nobody has heard from Sebastian Black since he canceled that concert in May and the whole tour shortly after. It’s like he disappeared from the face of the Earth, and nobody knows the reason why or when he’ll be back.Ifhe’ll be back.
It’s ludicrous, right?
There is no way he’d be here.
What would he be doing in Blairwood, of all places?
“It’s all just in your head, Penny. There is no way that Sebastian Black, the world-famous rock star, is at Blairwood. This whole encounter just messed with your head.”
Great, and now I’m talking to myself. In the third person, no less.
“Get a grip, girl.” With another shake of my head, I give the harness a little pull. “Let’s go to the park, Henry.”
This time around, I push all thoughts out of my head and focus on getting to the park as Henry helps me navigate the streets. The walk takes us about ten minutes since Henry learned that we usually take the longer route when we go out for “walks,” contrary to me going to “class.” Once in the dog park, I take off his harness and put it next to me as I sit on one of the benches before I pull Henry’s ball out of my bag, and we play a game of catch.
As I throw the ball, my thoughts wander again to what happened earlier with the guy who crashed into me.
Could it have been Sebastian?
At one point, just at the beginning of the summer, I searched obsessively for any info on him, but after there wasn’t anything new, I gave up. Pulling out my phone, I type in his name and listen as the mechanical voice reads the titles of the articles, but they’re all old.
Sebastian Black was still very much MIA.
It must have been somebody else. Somebody who just sounds like him. That’s it—a completely logical explanation.
A slobbery, wet ball is shoved into my palm, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re such a good boy, Henry,” I praise, wrapping my fingers around the tennis ball. I lift my hand in the air, tossing the ball once again.
There is the familiar sound of Henry’s feet as he dashes after the ball, so I wait. Soon enough, he’s back, his furry body brushing against the side of my leg as he lies down on the ground next to me, panting hard.
“Tired?”
At ten years old, Henry is still a pretty active dog, and he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down in his older age. It’s something that I don’t take for granted, considering he’s been my best friend and companion for the past eight years as he has worked as my guide dog.
I place my hand on Henry’s head, scratching between his ears. His fur is thicker, so I make a mental note to give him a good brush before classes start.
“You ready to go home, buddy?”
The mention of home has his head snapping up with interest, as it always does. He loves to play, but what he loves even more these days, is to snuggle up in bed and snooze. I let out a soft chuckle, grabbing his harness off the bench where I had left it earlier. “C’mon, you’ve earned your dinner.”
