Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

“I don’t know what to say to him.” I looked away—I’d already said too much. “He makes me feel stupid.”

She cocked her head at me, giving me that concerned doctor look. “How?”

“Sometimes it feels like he can see inside my head. Like he knows that…” I can’t stop thinking about him, or that I watch him in class sometimes .

“Are you going to finish your thought?”

“No, forget it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Jackie lifted her blue mug again. “I think you do. You know, people aren’t as closed off as they seem. Sometimes all it takes is a smile or a hello to break the ice. He probably finds you just as intimidating.”

“Did he say that?”

“I have a dare for you, Drea. Say hello to someone today—it can be anyone. See if you get a response.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Why? It’s hello—simple, straightforward. No strings attached.”

“I already said hi to Justin on his way out.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“He was surprised.”

Jackie tapped her nails against her cup. The sound made me cringe. “Hey, it’s a start.”

I fought the urge to hide behind my book when Justin walked into English. I stared at his white tennis shoes as he approached his desk, straining to open my mouth. But hi came out more as a grunt.

He slid into his seat and turned to look at me. “You say something?”

“I said hi.”

He smiled. I noticed a faint freckle on his upper lip. “Poe sucks.” He motioned to my T-shirt.

“ You suck.” Poe was one of my favorite female artists. And she actually produced her own music—couldn’t say that about most pop stars.

He poked my arm. “I was only kidding. My sister said she’s amazing live. She saw her back in 2001.”

“What’s your favorite album?”

“ Haunted is pretty awesome—can’t say I’ve heard anything like it.”

Kari looked at me over her shoulder. Her eyes moved to Justin. “Hey.” She tapped her polished nails against his desk.

He turned to face her. “What’s up?”

“You never called me back.”

“I know, sorry. I—”

She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Can we talk at lunch?”

Mr. Duncan began his lecture before Justin could answer her. Kari rolled her eyes and spun around. I’d never been so glad to hear a teacher speak.

I stood in the parking lot like an idiot after school. Roger’s egg car wasn’t in its usual space. Just perfect.

Naomi wasn’t by the fountain at lunch, and she never showed up to PE. My wrist still ached from volleyball. Choosing to slam one’s flesh into a hard ball seemed wrong. How anyone enjoyed that was beyond me.

“Hey, Drea,” a sharp voice said behind me.

My heart pounded as Kari approached me. “Hi,” I mumbled.

“Have you seen Justin?”

“He was talking to the film teacher when I left class. Probably still there.” I eyed the ground, hoping she’d go find him and leave me alone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her studying me. Her arms were folded tightly across her stomach, toe tapping on the pavement.

“So”—she shifted her weight—“are you guys, like, seeing each other?”

That particular phrase always threw me. Whenever Mom said she was seeing someone, I always thought—well, duh.

“Not like that .”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “What do you mean like that ?”

“I mean, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“I don’t understand.”

Kari rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “I’m not in the mood for games. Did you guys hook up or not?”

I backed up a couple steps. “He’s just my partner in film.”

A white sedan pulled up, and the driver tapped the horn twice. I could make out Casey’s long blond hair and broad shoulders.

Kari held a finger up, asking Casey to hang on. “If you see him on his way out, tell him to call me.” She shook her head and got into the car, slamming the door. Casey revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot.

Slow footsteps emerged behind me, and I got the prickly feeling of someone staring at my back. I looked over my shoulder and met Justin’s stare. What a convenient time to show up.

“Hey,” he said, peering in the direction Casey’s car went. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“That she was interrogating you about me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked a rock.

“Are you hiding from her?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes up to the dull sky. “Kinda—yeah.”

“Bad date?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t a date.”

“Why? Did you want it to be a date?”

He crinkled his brow at me and shook his head. “You’re an odd duck, Drea.” Before I could ask what the hell that meant, he continued. “I signed up for a camera the weekend after next. Mr. Diaz said everyone waits until the last minute, so I figured we’d beat the rush. Any ideas?”

“Not really. The only movies I’ve made are of sea lions, clouds, and my mom’s retarded ex with my crappy HI-8.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.” He scanned the parking lot. “You need a ride home?”

“It appears that way. But I can call someone.”

“Someone, huh? You’ve got a lot of friends in a town you just moved to.”

I looked away, my stomach tensing at the thought of being alone with him.

“Okay, suit yourself,” he said. “Later.”

Then again, getting a ride home from Justin seemed a lot more exciting than waiting for Mom or even worse—Grandma. “Wait,” I called after him. “You can give me a ride home.”

He turned around and walked backward with a grin. “Oh, can I? Thanks, I feel privileged.”

I followed him to his car, scanning the shiny black paint. M3 gleamed back at me in silver. It looked like a 2006—333 horsepower. Not bad.

He held the passenger door open for me. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite on the first ride home.”

I hesitated. “Huh?”

Justin rolled his eyes and waved me in. “Never mind.”

I slid into the black leather seat, breathing in the faded stench of cigarettes. Probably from Kari. I didn’t like picturing her in this seat.

He got into the driver’s side and started the engine. A song with grinding guitars and piercing synthesizers roared through my ears, but he quickly turned it down and mumbled an apology.

“They’ve got a V-8 M3 now,” I said.

He backed out of the parking space. “You don’t strike me as a car fan.”

“I used to read Car and Driver and Motor Trend a lot. Now I’m more into sound design.”

“You’ve got some interesting hobbies. So—where do you live?” He pulled onto the main street.

“Make a left at the light.”

“Can you give me a general area?”

“It’s near the bay. That street you make a left on—”

“Holly?”

“Yeah. Keep going straight and then Holly turns into something else after you pass this really big church. I live three streets down from that.”

He glanced over at me with wide eyes. “Oookay. Let me get this straight. I hang a left on Holly, and Holly turns into something else, hopefully another street. And you live on the third cross street after the church.”

“Yeah, it’s either the third or fourth.”

He shook his head, smirking. “Please tell me you know the name of your street.”

I looked out the window, my cheeks growing hot. I never paid attention to names—only landmarks and how many left or right turns it took to get there.

He touched my shoulder before shifting again. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”