though; I’d literally listen to a human scream for the next hour if it meant I didn’t have to be in that house with my parents.
The first time I saw Lucy, in third grade, she had just moved to the States from Haiti with her dad and grandmother. She was sitting on a swing on the playground wearing these awesome Mickey Mouse headphones. When I got up the nerve to ask her what she was listening to, she silently handed them to me. Later, I learned that it was a band named the Velvet Underground, which didn’t sound anything like Katy Perry or Taylor Swift or any of the other music I loved back then, and that they had a badass female drummer. Lucy’s always listened to music outside of the crap on the radio, and all the stuff she gravitates to tends to have women behind the drums. Jordan and I always loved when she’d introduce us to bands—we shared a Spotify account, and it was always a fight over who would get to use it on nights after she would turn us on to someone new, because we knew without a doubt that the rest of the school would be talking about them a few months later.
Right now is no exception. Whatever she’s playing in her car is simultaneously making me nauseous and causing my leg to bounce in time with the beat. I want to hate it, but for some reason I don’t.
“What in the hell is this?” I reach out and turn down the volume so she can hear me over the noise. “I’ve only heard one song and I already hate-love it. It’s, like, disgusting, but I want to dance to it anyway.”
She laughs. “That’s awesome. I’m telling Conor that when we get there. He’ll love it, I bet.”
I have no idea who she’s talking about. She’s great at saying a lot without saying anything at all.
She catches my stare. “Oh right—sorry. Conor—the guy singing this song. This is Proper Noun and the Noun, the band I’m going to audition for. So you get to hear this stuff in person.” She shoots me a side smile. “Maybe you’ll start dancing. Or singing, even.”
I snort. “Yeah. I’m definitely going to break into song in the middle of some rando band practice. I’m good, thanks.”
She scrunches her mouth as we pull up to a stoplight. “You know, I remember when you used to dance all the time…when you used to sing. ’Member that time I caught you dancing to music alone in your bedroom, and then Jordan came down the hallway? Jordan and I started dancing too…and you started singing…and Jordan went and grabbed his guitar. We didn’t even need the background music. I could have watched the two of you making music together for hours. Honestly, May.” She sniffles, and I can feel her eyes on me, but I deliberately turn away, look out the window.
She shakes her head. “I really miss hanging out, the three of us. You singing, Jordan playing guitar, me on drums…” She glances at me, sees my hardened expression. “I know it’s hard, but talking about him isn’t going make the world end. Maybe it’ll even help….” She trails off as my expression morphs into a glare. “Or not.”
I’m silent for a beat; then I ask, “How many cans did you bring?”
“Cans?”
I squint at her. “Yeah. Cans. Of spray paint? For later?”
She shrugs. “Oh right. That. I was thinking…maybe we could just skip it tonight.”
I tense. “What? You promised. You already bailed last night. I was attacked by a cat and….”
She gives me a look like What the hell are you talking about, May? and I interrupt myself, since I know she wouldn’t be down with me going to the lawyer’s alone.
I clench my teeth and concentrate on the view outside my window. “Fine. Whatever. But you’re the one who brought it up, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I felt bad; you were freaking out.” I can hear her drumming her fingers on the steering wheel like she does when she gets nervous. “And about all this…”