Will's Story (6 page)

Nerves strung tight

Things I must do

A boy's confession

Never meant to hurt you

My fingers drum out of
synch with the song blaring from my speakers as I drive home from school. My thoughts won't settle. I told Amber Rose to come about an hour early so I could talk to her and let her know that our dating wasn't going to work out. What I didn't expect was to find Amber Vaughn in my den.

I hesitate for a second and glance at the clock in the kitchen. A good hour or so to kill. My heart is beating hard but I play it cool. Besides, I found some interesting banjo arrangements she might use for her audition.

I grab some of their popcorn. “Hey, Devon, do you mind if I borrow Amber for a sec? I want to show her what I found.” I lift up the arm holding my laptop and the CD
she'd given me Thursday morning.

Devon groans and shoos us away. He's playing some Lana Del Rey song on his guitar. “Go somewhere in the back where I can't hear the twang.”

Not sure Amber's going to follow me when I motion for her to come down the hall to my room, but she does, her crutches pushing along the hardwood floors.

I put the laptop on my desk and turn it on. “Is your ankle going to be okay?”

“Kind of. Pretty sure it's just a sprain but Mom insists I use these for a few more days. I fell over a stupid root in the trail when I was hiking.”

Another cool thing about Amber Vaughn. She likes to get outdoors as much as I do.

She leans her crutches by the door. “What'd you think of the CD?”

“Let me show you something.” I get to one of the videos I'd bookmarked. It's a banjo version of “Ave Maria,” one of the songs she'd mentioned as a favorite. She's leaning in my door frame and as she realizes what the guy's playing, her face lights with a smile.

I grin. “Right? But that's not all. Here's the ‘Red, Red Rose' song you liked.” I turn to the computer and click through my favorites, pulling up another video.

Amber's watching the screen. “You could do those
arrangements?”

“Yeah, sure.” I don't want to come across as cocky. “I mean, we can learn together. Would it be too weird if you hung out with me, though?” I'm testing the Amber Vaughn waters.

She cocks an eyebrow.

“To practice,” I add. “Instead of hanging out with Devon.”

“We've played together before at your house. Remember? Nirvana?”

I choose not to feel small even though her voice is “put me in my place” contemptuous. “Right.” I skip past my embarrassment. “You want to start tonight? Now?” I know I have a deadline but playing music will be a good thing to keep my mind off Amber Rose's imminent arrival.

Amber Vaughn blushes.

She blushes!

“Yeah. That'd be good.”

I motion for her to sit on the foot of my bed, while I take the swivel chair. It's all I can do to keep my hands from shaking. When I start in on the “Ave Maria” arrangement, I butcher it. It's worse than bad. But it might be because Amber Vaughn has laid herself flat on my bed, her hand under her chin, watching me. I try again and eventually it starts sounding like something. She sits back up
and when she opens her mouth this heavenly note escapes.

“Ave Maria.”

Her mouth, only the barest hint of something rose-colored on her lips, forms an
o
and she closes her eyes and draws the sound up and out from inside. And yeah, this is totally cliché, but it's like angels singing. Specifically, the angel of Patsy Cline right here in my room. It's hard to keep playing the banjo and watch her sing at the same time, but I do. Until I hit a sour note.

“Sorry about that. I promise I'll get it.”

Her face is serene and calm like the words of the song have washed her pure. “I'm not worried.” She scoots herself up against my headboard.

I'm drawn to her calm and without really being aware of what I'm doing, move to the foot of my bed. The plink of notes for “Red, Red Rose” pull my focus and I play it through a few times, getting it smooth. When I start in for the fourth time, Amber joins in.

“I wish I was a butterfly, I'd light on my love's breast. I wish I was a blue cuckoo, I'd sing my love to rest.”

Her voice fades away and I finish playing. “You want to practice that again?”

In the back of my mind, I'm aware I should be paying attention to the time. But the other part of me is living strong in this moment. This making music. This girl. This
feeling.

“Sure,” she says.

I don't look at the clock.

I start picking and this time I look at her as she sings. And she looks at me. And the lyrics are a love song and if she ever had a doubt about how I felt, she's got to know it now. And a part of me knows she must like me, too. But every song ends and when this one does, she blushes, looking down. And I'm contemplating setting the banjo down, and crawling forward across the plaid comforter I've had since sixth grade, and taking Amber Vaughn into my arms for a good, long kiss, when a slow clap sounds from behind me.

Amber Vaughn's brown eyes go wider than walnuts and I know.

I should have looked at the clock.

Amber Rose is leaning against my door frame dressed to kill. “Very sweet,” she says, her tone a barbed contrast to her words.

I jump up. “Hey. What time is it?”

Then Devon's there and he's looking at my face, and looking at Amber Vaughn on my bed, and shit. All we were doing was playing music. But the feeling in the room is thick. Thick as guilt.

I don't know what all is said, but when the air thins,
it's me and Amber Rose. Devon and Amber Vaughn have vanished to the front of the house.

Amber Rose shuts my door.

I turn on music. Coltrane's
A Love Supreme
. Not exactly breakup music but it will have to do.

“Amber Rose,” I say.

She cuts me off. “Don't even, Will McKinney. Don't even tell me the day I sent you a text of my flipping breasts, you cheated on me?”

“We were just playing music.”

“I heard.” She crosses her arms and stands ramrod straight against my wall.

“Amber Rose, listen.”

She cuts me off again. “I'm listening and this better be good. You've been weird all week. Are you cheating on me? With
her
?”

Moment of truth, Will McKinney. You going to wiggle around this or be a man? My mom's training about what it means to be honorable kicks in. It's time to own up to what I've done.

“Yes.”

“What?” She drops her arms, like she wasn't really expecting that answer, and maybe it's my imagination but I swear those saxophones in the background get about twelve times louder.

“But not how you think.” I take a step forward to, I don't know, touch her arm or something, but then I think better of it and stop. “I mean, yes, we got together one day.” I won't tell Amber Rose the details, it's not her business to spread. “I thought it was a fluke, and you and me, we hadn't really been going out very long, but then it halfway happened again.”

“You suck, Will McKinney.” She's crying now and I do step forward and put my arms on her shoulders to hug her.

“Hey, don't cry. Look, I didn't want to hurt you.”

She snuffles. “You should have thought about that when you were locking lips with some chunky redneck girl.”

I unhug her. I know she's mad but that was low.

“God. I sexted you today.” Amber Rose looks at my ceiling instead of me.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

She hugs herself and a few more tears drop down her cheeks before her next question. “You deleted it, right?”

“I know I'm a douche, Amber Rose, but I'm not that level of asshole. Yes, I deleted it. And you did look good.”

She shudders like a rabbit ran up her spine. Coltrane continues to blare in the background. “Why her? I'm prettier than her.”

“You're gorgeous, Amber Rose. And kind.” I let her
bitch comment about Not So Plain and Small slide—I know she's hurting—but she
was
kind to me out on the lake. “The male population of MHHS will thank me on Monday for making you available once again. Some guy's going to scoop you up and never let you go.”

“It's y'all's music, isn't it?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I could go on and tell Amber Rose that I think Amber Vaughn is the real kind of beautiful, but I figure she won't get it. “You can still go tonight if you want,” I offer.

Amber Rose sighs and wipes her face. Whatever raw emotion was there disappears when she pulls her hand away and all that's left is anger. Her eyes narrow. “I don't want to, Will. And I don't want you talking to me on Monday. And one more thing . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Don't make cheating on your girlfriends a habit.” She hitches her purse back to her shoulder. “I may not understand what you see in her over me. But no girl likes to be treated the way you just treated me.”

She doesn't wait for my response as she turns and opens my door to leave.

Coltrane blares.

I can't get to the off button fast enough.

Hand in hand

Freedom and fear

The moment to say

What I hold dear

The next morning, I'm watching
old episodes of
Ice Road Truckers
when Devon finally wakes up. “What's up with you?” I eye him as he walks into the den.

He's got huge bags under his eyes like he'd been on a bender the night before but he was with me, symphony'ing it up with the parentals.

“Amber called me late last night.”

“Oh?” I scoot up from where I'm lying on the couch, then I scoot back in a display of nonchalance. “What'd she have going on?”

He snags the bag of Chips Ahoy! I have resting on my throw and crams about three in his mouth. Through crumbs he mutters, “Oh, she's singing backup in this band
with her brother-in-law and Sean.”

“She is?” This must be connected to what Sammy said the other night. I feel kind of hurt she hasn't mentioned it, but it's not like she has to tell me anything. Backup in a band is a pretty big deal though, and I don't know, but I feel kind of responsible for getting her onstage. Like maybe I would be someone she would tell.

“Yeah.” Devon grabs another cookie. “Some kind of blackmail. She wouldn't give me the details. But secretly, I think she's kind of into it.”

“Like into the music? Or into hanging out with Sean?”

Devon side eyes me. “I don't know if she is or not.”

I don't say anything else.

He sighs. “So . . .”

I glance away from the screen. “So?”

“The other reason I look like death warmed over is I may have had a four-hour Skype conversation with a very attractive boy last night.”

“What? Kush finally cave in to latent feelings?”

“Pffft.” He waves the cookie. “I still think there may be some repressed longings lurking in that boy, but I'm better than that. C.A. introduced me to her cousin who lives in Bristol. Gil Dubois.”

I watch him. My brother is glowing. “No fucking way, dude.”

He grins. “Yep, insta-love. Insta-love is a thing and I'm here as the shining, bright star on the term paper example. And best thing of all. He's out. At home. At school. No shame.”

“Man, I'm happy for you.” I still don't totally understand the mechanics of my brother's future relationships, but it's not about me. “Did you tell Amber?”

Now he looks guilty. “No. I don't know, I tell her everything. But this feels real, and I want to give it a chance to be something before I start being all
dramatique
about it.”

“I get that.” Hundred percent true statement. Same goes with me and Not So Plain and Small. I'd tell Devon, but he'd make it a thing, and I've got to play this right.

I hold up my fist. Devon bumps it.

Now I just need to figure out my next move.

Before I get anywhere though, the phone rings.

Mom calls from the back of the house. “Will, honey, it's for you.”

Weird. Who would call the house line?

“Hello?”

“Will McKinney?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jonathan Warner from Tamarack Wilderness Camp. I have your application here.”

Damn, that was fast. I just sent the thing in on Monday.

“Oh, hi, right. I mean, yes, sir.”

The voice on the other end of the line chuckles. “Though I appreciate the courtesy, just Jonathan is fine. Anyway, I'm loving your application. Banjo, hiking, kayaking. Seems like you'd be a good fit with a lot of skills to bring to the table. Your references checked out solid, too. I know this is early, but our junior counselor positions fill up really quickly. If you're ready to commit to a summer job, we're ready to offer it.”

“For real?” Mom's walked in and is looking at me with a questioning smile. I give her the thumbs-up.

“For real,” Jonathan answers.

“Yes. Absolutely. Thank you.”

He tells me they'll be sending out a paperwork package in a few weeks and to keep an eye out for it but in the meantime watch my email for updates.

I hang up. “I got the job.”

“The camp?” Mom's leaning on the counter with a big smile on her face.

“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I think I'm excited.”

“Excited about what?” Dad appears from the back of the house. I quick eye Mom and she nods like I've got her vote.

“Um. I applied to a wilderness camp for the summer.
To be a counselor. I got the job.”

Devon cracks from the couch, “Corrupting young minds one at a time.”

“I wish you'd get the rest of your Carolina application done with the same fervor.” Dad frowns as he pours himself another cup of coffee.

I take a deep breath. “Dad. Can we talk? Out on the porch?” I don't want Mom there for backup or Devon to make any more well-intentioned cracks. I need it to be me and my father, man-to-man, musician to former musician.

Once seated, I clear my throat. “About the Carolina application.”

Dad interrupts. “I told you not to worry about getting in. I have that covered.”

“Dad, you're not listening. Okay. I know I've been an ass since we moved here. And I know I've caused you and Mom more heartache than I'm worth, but I listened to you. I've cleaned up my act. I joined fifth period chorus. I'm studying and my grades are edging up.”

“As you should have been all along.”

I sigh and roll my eyes and Dad stops himself. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Dad, I don't want to go to Carolina. I know it's your alma mater. I know it's a great school. But a strange thing happened.”

He looks at me over his mug and raises his wild eyebrows.

“I hated this place so much when we moved here. You don't even know. But it's kind of grown on me. The people. The land. The music.”

Dad starts rocking. “You've been bit.”

“What?”

“The bug. You've got the music bug.”

“Dad. It's more than a bug. It's me. It's what I want. I talked to a guy over at ETSU and I can study mountain music. That's where I want to apply. Mrs. Early, my chorus teacher and our guidance counselor, has already told me my scores are good enough to get in. The guy from the music school was impressed by my playing.”

Dad's quiet for a while. Then he does this soft kind of introspective laugh. “I left here to make a better life. But it drew me back.” He looks out at the mountains rising around us. “Suppose it was foolish for me to think it wouldn't cast you in its spell. And I suppose it's what I hoped for.”

Then he leans forward. “Promise me something.”

This conversation is starting to feel like it's going my way. “Yes, sir?”

“Get two degrees. Music can't support you the way you've been raised.”

That sounded surprisingly like the end of a battle and the promise he's asking for is one I can make.

“Two degrees.” I nod. “So, yes?”

“Son, you're eighteen. You're going to forge your own path. Blaze your own trail. Yes, that trail got a little crooked for a while, but if you're brave enough to take the risks I wasn't able to, then go with my blessing. But . . .” He leans farther forward and puts his finger toward my face. “No more funny business.”

“Yes, sir.” And then, I get up from my chair and wrap my dad in a bear hug. A real man-to-man, arms-tight embrace. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, Will.”

What's felt like two years of tension eases away and what's left behind is hope.

Now the only thing I still need to do is tell Amber Vaughn how I feel.