Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

“No—I’m—”

“Leave me alone!”

“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Duncan asked.

Justin faced forward, and I looked up at the teacher. Every head was turned in my direction.

“Nothing,” I said, my face on fire.

The teacher looked from me to Justin for a few moments before continuing. “I got the class syllabus printed off as promised.” He fished a stack of papers out of his bag and began divvying them up among the rows. “As most of you know, I like to start the semester off with a bang, and I thought we’d tackle Go Ask Alice this year.”

A couple of groans reverberated around the room. “Just say no!” a boy jeered.

“Sounds like you’ve read it,” Mr. Duncan said. “And here I thought you guys were too busy watching America’s Next Top Model or Lost .”

“I read it in, like, seventh grade,” a girl with long braids said. “It’s a good book.”

“Well, now you get to dissect it.”

Justin dangled a stapled bunch of papers over his shoulder. I ripped them out of his hand, hoping to give him paper cuts.

“And you’ll notice I’m still all about the journals.”

More groans filtered throughout the room.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re good for you. An entry is due every Friday. Tell me your thoughts on life. What you had for dinner, your favorite color or band. Whatever’s on your mind. I won’t be grading these—but I’ll flunk you if you don’t turn them in every week.”

The thought of trying to organize my thoughts made my head hurt. I never got the point of journals. Why document things I already know? That’s boring. Plus, most experiences weren’t worth rehashing.

Most of the class whispered to each other as Mr. Duncan passed out the books. Justin held one over his shoulder for me, but he moved it every time I tried to grab it.

“Give me the book, jerk.”

“And it looks like we’re a couple short,” Mr. Duncan announced. “I’ll be right back.”

Justin waited for him to leave before turning to face me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not making fun of you.”

“Yeah, right.”

His eyes widened. “Do you have any idea how many boxes I had to go through to find these pants?”

“No, and I don’t care. Can you give me the book now?”

He raised the book, but still kept it out of reach. “Come on, I’m wearing eyeliner here. I didn’t even go this far when I was a Goth.”

“Did you borrow that from your niece too?”

He smirked. “No, my older sister.”

The image of Justin struggling to put on eyeliner was rather funny.

“Was that a hint of a smile I saw?”

“You look ridiculous,” I said. Even though I kind of liked the way he looked. It was an improvement over the boring Nike shirt.

“You’re hard to please,” he whispered. “What look should I try tomorrow? Raver? Punk? How about a skater cowboy?” He set the book down on my desk and smiled.

Mr. Duncan tore back into the classroom and passed out the remaining books. Justin turned around and flipped through the pages.

A shadowed eyeball peered at me from the black cover. The face reminded me of Mom after she gets dumped. Her dark eyes get shiny and flat at the same time. I flipped to the first page and scanned what looked to be a journal entry. Whoever wrote it sounded young—my age maybe. She thought she had something worthwhile to say—but instead the diary had become nothing, like the rest of her life.

Naomi wasn’t waiting outside my biology class. I found her at the fountain having an in-depth conversation with Justin. Seeing her throw her head back and laugh made my stomach hurt. Whatever he said couldn’t have been that funny.

I marched up to him, preparing the perfect speech in my head. Something that would put him in his place and send him on his merry way.

Then he smiled at me and patted the space next to him, and I forgot how to speak English.

“You,” I said.

“Me,” he answered.

“Go away.”

“And leave you to Roger? Never.”

Naomi giggled. “Guess what? Justin plays piano.”

I sat on the other side of her and ripped my lunch bag from my backpack. “I know.”

“And he plays bass too. I was thinking—he could join our band. With him, we’ve got every instrument covered.”

“I can play the bass just fine,” I said, unraveling my jelly sandwich.

“But do you play the piano?” Naomi asked.

“Don’t need to. I’ve got a midi keyboard and piano samples. I can just program the notes.”

“And it sounds cold and robotic,” Justin said. “Even electronica can use that human touch sometimes.”

“Are you going to haul a piano into my grandma’s basement?”

“How about a keyboard? My Bösendorfer isn’t very travel friendly.”

I dropped my sandwich in my lap. “For real? You have a Bösendorfer?”

He looked down at his hands. “Yes.”

“Okay, what’s a Bösen-dopper or whatever?” Naomi asked.

I gritted my teeth. “It’s a really nice and expensive piano. But I have some samples of one on my computer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Justin snorted. “That’ll beat the real thing.”

“Are your parents, like, off-the-charts rich, or what?” Naomi asked him. “Because you’ve got a real nice ride too.”

He bit into his sandwich and shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re either loaded or you aren’t,” Naomi said. “Which is it?”

“My dad’s a rap star.”

Naomi rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” She whipped out her cell phone, pressed a couple buttons, and handed it to me. “Give me your digits. I wanted to hang out last night, but I was afraid your grandma would eat me if I dropped by too late.”

Justin laughed softly into his sandwich, turning his face away.

“Where’s Kari?” I asked him, punching in my cell number.

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I heard you guys hooked up last night.” Naomi wiggled her eyebrows at him.

He squinted at me, shaking his head. “Having food at a café doesn’t equate to hooking up. She offered to show me around town—I thought, Why not?”

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “Why are you here anyway?”

“I invited him. We’ve got fourth period together.” Naomi took her phone from me and grinned at the number I’d plugged in.

Justin leaned around her to look at me. “I figured if we have to make a movie together—we might as well be civil. But I’ll leave if you’d like.”

“Okay,” I said, pretending to savor a bite of my sandwich. The chunk felt more like a rock edging its way down my throat. I didn’t really want him to leave, but I was afraid to let him stay. His presence gave me this tightness in my chest. Like I couldn’t breathe. And I hated how I kept looking at his lips when he spoke—wanting to touch them.

“Don’t go,” Naomi said to him.

I could feel both of them looking at me, waiting for a response. All I could do was count the cracks on the pavement. Most of them were faint, but a couple were large and gaping. Ready to swallow me.

“It’s cool.” He crumpled up his bag and zipped up his backpack. “I’ll see you in film, Drea.”

“Call me!” Naomi yelled after him as he walked toward the steps.

He gave her a small wave before going into the building.

“What’s your deal?” she asked. I didn’t like the tone of her voice—it sounded more cutting than usual. Higher in pitch.

“He’s a jerk.”

“I haven’t seen him be anything but nice to you. Confess already, huh? Who broke your heart?”

I stuffed my half-eaten sandwich into the bag, willing my mind to think of a brilliant answer. The thought of telling Naomi the truth made my teeth grind. She’d probably see me like everyone else did—sad, lonely, weird, even pathetic. When in doubt, I could always use Mom’s experiences. “He cheated on me—well—a couple of them did.”