Harmonic Feedback (24 page)

I was filming Grandma lining up a row of angel figurines when Naomi showed up. Her big blue eyes appeared in the frame, looking red-rimmed and sleepy. But her lips stretched into a wide smile. She had no idea I’d ratted her out.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the camera. The afternoon light pierced her blond roots, making her hair look thin.

“Hi.” I panned to Grandma. The school camera weighed a ton, and using a tripod was the only way I could keep it steady.

Naomi walked behind me, peering at the little LCD screen. “You’ve got it zoomed in really far. I can practically see the dirt under her nails.” She pressed a button, pushing the image of Grandma farther away. “There ya go.”

I elbowed her arm. “I had it there for a reason, Naomi.”

“Sorry. Damn.” She huffed and sat on the grass. “So I guess you’re mad after all.”

“What do you mean?” I focused on Grandma’s face. She watched the street, hands on her hips. Her eyes widened with each passing car.

“You said it was okay. I mean—
he
asked me, and we’re just friends. It’s not like it was like
that
, you know?”

Her words melded together in my head. All I could think about was what she’d do when my mom called her dad.

“Oh, what? You’re going to ignore me now? You should’ve just said something, Drea.”

Grandma turned then, her eyes piercing the frame. She instantly covered her face and spun around. “I told you to turn that off, Drea! You’ll scare the customers away.”

“What customers?”

“I’ll throw it in the street. I’m not kidding,” Grandma said.

“Then you can pay my teacher three thousand dollars to replace it.”

Grandma crinkled her nose and stormed back into the garage, mumbling something about disrespect. “Get me if anyone shows up!” she called.

I clicked the camera off and knelt in front of Naomi. The grass was damp and cold.

“Do you want a blanket?” I asked.

She studied my face for a moment. “You aren’t mad, then?”

“No—I just had a good shot and you messed it up. That’s all.”

“I was trying to help! But I guess I can’t do
anything
right.”

I looked away from her glare, hugging myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, yesterday—you bit my head off because you dropped your lunch box. It wasn’t my fault, Drea. I didn’t knock it out of your hands.”

The cutting sound of her voice made me want to get up and run, but I closed my eyes, trying to think of the right words.

“You could at least look at me,” she said.

“I don’t like seeing you so angry at me.”

A few seconds of silence went by. Finally, she exhaled. “Sometimes it just seems like I annoy you. Like you don’t want me around.”

I opened my eyes. She was looking down, running her fingers through the grass. “I do want you around.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. We sat quietly for a minute before a smirk crossed her lips. “Justin told me about his juvie days last night. That’s kinda hot, right?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No way. Justin in handcuffs? Awesome.” She laughed.

Their talk didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.

“Why is that funny?”

She leaned back on the palms of her hands. “Um—because it’s Justin. That image is a little hard to picture.”

“His mom died. Do you think that’s funny and awesome too?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Of course not. But shit happens, people die. It’s not a reason to stop living yourself.”

I pulled up a chunk of grass and let it sift through my fingers. “Whatever.”

“There you go again—acting all pissy.”

My stomach tensed. “I just don’t understand some of the things you say.”

“It’s called having a sense of humor, Drea.”

I counted the loose blades of grass in my hand. “Okay.”

“I should’ve been sixteen in the eighties,” she continued. “I would’ve been the perfect punk chick.”

“Why can’t you be a punk chick now?”

“Because Sid is dead, duh.”

I threw grass at her. “He died in 1979.”

She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Anyway, Justin had a conniption because I called Green Day old-school punk. So he gave me a CD with the Dead Milkmen, Sex Pistols, the Clash, and a bunch of others on it. Good stuff.”

“Cool.” I looked at her empty driveway across the street. “Is your dad home this weekend?”

“Nope, but his vacation starts next Saturday. He claims he’s taking me car shopping.”

My chest relaxed. At least I had a week to convince Mom not to call. “You never said how your dinner went Thursday.”

“It was a dinner with Dad, not an all-night party. What exactly is there to talk about?”

“You seemed excited, that’s all.”

“What I really want to talk about is you and Justin. He’s so gaga over you.”

I let a smile slip.

“Ooh. You’re blushing. Something’s totally happened—fess up.”

I buried my face in my knees.

“Oh my God. You hooked up with him!”

I put my hand against her mouth. “Shut up. My grandma will hear you.”

She pulled back. “I wasn’t talking that loud. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“We kissed,” I whispered.

“What?” She leaned forward, her eyes widening.

I brought my mouth to her ear. “Kissed.”

“Kissed what?”

“You know—with our mouths.”

Her brows pinched together. “That’s it?”

I ached to tell her the truth. That I’d never had a boyfriend before. I wanted to ask her all about her first time. What was normal, what wasn’t. But she’d probably think that was funny too.

A slowing car caught my attention. Justin pulled up to the curb in front of us.

Naomi grinned, standing up. “Speaking of a certain ex-thug.”

“Don’t call him that.”

She rolled her eyes and ran over to Justin’s car.

I stayed back and watched them through the lens of the camera. The world looked so different this way. Naomi’s smile seemed less real, and Justin looked almost shy. I zoomed in as he pulled out of their hug. He stared right into the camera, like he was trying to see inside my mind. Naomi glanced over at me and whispered something. He eyed the ground and shrugged.

I focused on Naomi’s mouth as they walked toward me. It moved so quickly. Like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Justin’s lips curved up, not enough to be smiling. But enough to look unassuming. Pleasant.

“She can’t seem to stop messing around with that thing,” Naomi said.

Justin came within a few feet of me and stopped. “Hey.”

I straightened, peering over the camera. “Hi.”

Naomi’s gaze bounced between us. “Hello, awkward.” And then the wicked grin took over. “Drea tells me you two had quite the hot night.” She punched his arm.

He shot me what could only be a confused look. “That’s interesting.”

“Don’t,” I said, hoping she’d drop it for once.

“Yeah, apparently you guys…” She put a hand over her mouth, pretending to giggle.

“What? I missed the joke, sorry,” Justin said.

My heart thudded. “Naomi, please stop.”

“Drea said you guys”—she nudged him and whispered—“kissed.” Then she covered her mouth like it was the most shocking thing ever.

My cheeks burned, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran into the house, slamming the basement door behind me. Naomi must’ve known what a big deal that kiss was to me. And she didn’t care. It was a joke to her.
I
was a joke.

I buried my face in the softness of my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

The basement door creaked open a couple minutes later.

“Give me five minutes, Grandma! Five lousy minutes.”

But it wasn’t her open-toed heels coming down the stairs. These steps were softer, more like tennis shoes. “Don’t worry. Grandma and Naomi are holding down the fort,” Justin said. “But I brought the camera down in case they decide to go Jerry Springer on each other.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled into my green pillow.

His footsteps echoed behind me and stopped as he set the camera down. He walked over to the side I was facing and leaned against the wall, peering down at me. I turned the other way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Everything is a big joke to her, including me.”

“She gets off on teasing people. But you aren’t a joke to her, Drea. She went on and on last night about how talented you are.”

“Why is she always trying to embarrass me?”

“Because she wants attention and doesn’t know how to ask for it.”

“You sound like Jackie.”

“So be it. But it’s true. Besides, she feels pretty bad. Your grandma asked where you were, and Naomi told her you didn’t feel well. She got suckered into helping your grandma redo the table display.”

I rolled over and met his gaze. “I told my mom what happened last weekend. She wants to call her dad.”

“Did you tell her about me too?”

“I told her everything. I’m sorry. She still likes you.”

He shifted his weight against the wall. “Don’t be sorry. You guys are close. I tell my sister everything too.”

“I need to convince her not to call Naomi’s dad.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think you can.”

“That doesn’t help much.”

“What can I say, Drea? I’m not very good at the comforting thing, especially when it comes to you.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“No? You seemed almost disgusted by me the other night.”

I sat up. “And that’s the problem, Justin. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say or the right way to say it. By the time I figured out how to tell you what I was feeling, you had left. Don’t assume my thoughts by the look on my face. Don’t try and read between my words. At least ask me what I’m thinking or feeling first. It might take me some time, but I will answer you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, then, I’m asking. How do you feel about me?”

“It’s hard to explain. You make me feel connected to the world in ways I’ve never felt connected before. Usually I hate it when people touch me, but with you—it’s comforting. Not in the same way as my mom.”

“God, I hope not.” He gave me a strange look before holding up his hands. “Sorry, go on.”

“It’s a warm feeling, and my stomach kind of tickles. And… why are you smiling?”

He moved from the wall and sat on the bed. Close, but not close enough to touch me. “You’re describing actual sensations.”

“You asked me how I felt.”

“I know, and it’s the most real and honest answer I’ve ever heard. That’s why I’m smiling.”

“Oh.” I ran my fingers along the threads of my purple comforter. “I wanted to say thank you the other night. For giving me a chance, for the driving lessons, for coming to get me and Naomi at two in the morning—and for saying you liked everything about me. Nobody has ever said that before.”

“You don’t need to thank me for liking you, Drea. It was a done deal when I saw you singing to yourself the first day of school.”

I let my hair fall in my face, hoping it would cover up my dumb smile. “I thought you were laughing at me.”

“No, I was wondering how to introduce myself to the beautiful musically inclined girl without sounding like an ass.”

I peeked up at him. “I thought you were cute, but probably a jerk.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I gathered that much—the jerk part, anyway. And you would’ve been right if you’d met me last year.”

I moved closer to him, putting my hand over his. “But I didn’t. So it doesn’t matter.”

He pulled away. “Drea, the stuff I told you about my past was just the highlights. I didn’t get into all of it, because I didn’t think it mattered. But I think it will matter to you—especially after your reaction the other night.”

I moved back to the headboard, curling my knees under my chin. “Oh.”

“I just know that the more time I spend with you, the more I like you. The more I want to be part of your life.” He rolled his eyes. “And I need to shut up because I suck at this.”

“I feel the same way,” I said.

He sighed and laid back on the bed. “What did you mean by—you thought I was more like you?”

“I was hoping you were an inexperienced dork like me, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Nobody really knows what they’re doing. We’d all like to think we do, though.”

“So it doesn’t bother you, about me?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t have even known if you didn’t tell me.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. When you kiss someone for the first time, it’s usually awkward. It doesn’t matter how many people you’ve kissed before.”

“How many people have you kissed?”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I don’t know the exact number.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“I slept with some of them too. But I don’t remember much. There were times I woke up and couldn’t remember what happened. That scares the shit out of me.”

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know what to say to me, either.” He settled on his back again, drumming his chest. “But I was tested right before I moved here. I’m clean.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I keep thinking about my mom. She was obsessed with being healthy—ate right, exercised, didn’t smoke. She wouldn’t even touch alcohol. How’s that for messed up?” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You made some mistakes, but you’re a good person. That’s what matters.”

He covered his eyes with his arm, a smile crossing his lips. “Don’t make me go over there and kiss you. Tell me how lame my T-shirt is or something.”

“I like De/Vision. They’re one of my favorite bands, actually.”

“Who was I kidding? You’re Drea. You can’t help but drive me crazy.” He dropped his arm and gazed up at me.

I hurled the pillow at his face, but it missed him entirely and hit my green acoustic instead.

He chuckled. “Nice aim. I’m about—what?—two or three feet from you.”

“Shut up.”

Justin sat up, shaking his head. “Let me show you how it’s done, okay?”

He snatched the pillow off the floor and did a pitching motion with it. I covered my head, preparing for a blow. It didn’t come.

“Oh, give me a break. You’ve got another pillow next to you. Use it,” he said.