Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

A few moments passed before he tapped a button on his wheel, turning the music back up. The beat was danceable, and I liked the mix. Most modern songs overdid the compression to the point of killing any dynamic that once existed—they were just loud. Period.

“Who is this?”

He squinted at me as we pulled up to a red light. “Why—you hate it?”

“No, I kind of like it, actually.”

“It’s a band called Black Lab. They don’t normally do electronica. It was kind of an experiment, but I like bands that take risks.”

“Me too.”

“Do you consider yourself a music snob?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Same here. And you lost points for not knowing Black Lab.”

“Don’t play the music game with me. I’ll win.” At least I did every time someone challenged me online.

“Oh.” He shook his head. “ This is gonna be good. Try me. Throw some names out.”

“Porcupine Tree.”

“I’m torn between ‘Deadwing’ and ‘The Sound of Muzak’ for my favorite song, but I think In Absentia is a better album.”

“It was a little mellow for me. I preferred Deadwing —it was more visceral and dark.”

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s one for you. Puracane.”

“My favorite song is ‘Shouldn’t Be Here.’”

“Because it’s dark and visceral ?”

“No, I can relate to it for some reason.”

“Why? You wake up on a lot of random couches?”

“No, I just get it.”

He tapped his finger against the steering wheel and gave me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Some melodies just talk to me. The lyrics don’t matter.”

We drove in silence for a minute. Brick buildings, kayak places, and bike riders whizzed by.

“So if you love cars so much, how come you don’t drive?” he asked.

I focused on two older women in the car next to us. One had purple hair. “I don’t have a license.”

“Why not?”

“I kind of flunked the test.” I didn’t want to tell him there had actually been six of them.

“Kind of? We’ll have to fix that.”

“Are you going to take it for me?”

He chuckled. “No, but I’ll give you free driving lessons.”

“Um, I drive pretty bad. You really don’t want to do that.”

He pointed to my right. “There’s the church.”

“It’s the street right after the white-and-black house.”

“Drea, there are several that color.”

“The one with all the yellow flowers in the yard.”

He nodded and sped up. Maybe he just wanted to get rid of me.

“You live on Daisy Street for future reference,” he said after we turned the corner.

“Thanks. It’s that ugly, yellowy-green house on the right.”

“I like your neighborhood. It’s got character.”

“It’s just old.”

He sighed, shaking his head. We pulled up next to the curb, and I was relieved to see Mom’s Toyota missing from the driveway. She’d ask a million embarrassing questions if she saw Justin drop me off.

“So, um…”

“We need to figure out what we’re doing for our film project,” he said.

I avoided his gaze. “You could come in, I guess.” After all, I did tell Mom we were working on a project together.

“I didn’t mean now.”

“Oh, okay. Well, bye, then.” I pushed the door open and climbed out, sliding my backpack over my shoulder.

“Hey, I didn’t say no.” He ejected the Black Lab CD out of his player and waved it at me. “Want a copy?”

I attempted to smile even though my knees were shaking. “Yeah.”

He shut off the car and hopped out, gazing at the trees lining the street.

I unlocked the door and prayed Grandma wasn’t home. “Hello? Grandma?”

No answer. My muscles relaxed.

Justin followed me to the basement and made an approving sound when he spotted my guitars and Mac Pro. “Nice.” He nodded at the computer. “Is that an eight-core?”

“No, it’s an older dual-core. Got it off eBay.” The setup had cost me years of birthday and holiday checks.

“Cool.”

“I’ve got Final Cut, so we can edit the video here—i-if you want to.”

He grinned and walked over to my work desk, scanning the effect pedals, wires, and boards in various piles.

“I’m, um, building some pedals. Hopefully, I can sell them later.”

“I can see that.” He seemed to have a permanent half smile when he was around me.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Not at all. If I played guitar, I’d ask you to build me one.”

I walked over to my computer and jiggled my mouse to wake it up. The silver tower revved like a car engine—I loved that sound. Justin came up behind me, close enough to smell the gel in his hair. Just feeling his warmth made my knees weak again.

“Here,” he said, slipping the CD case into my hand.

“Thanks.” I stuck the CD into the drive, trying to block out the burning sensation on my skin. Mom told me I had a much bigger space bubble than most. Certain people really set it off, like Roger or some of my mom’s boyfriends. The feeling wasn’t much different than a spider crawling through my hair. But Justin was different. Just as intense, but warmer somehow. More pleasant.

“I thought we could do a music video for our project,” he said.

“Yeah, we could work on a soundtrack and…” I didn’t know if I wanted to work that closely with him. It would be easier to just stick a random song over the top, but there was no way I’d settle for that.

“But that would require working on music with me,” he said. “Sure you can handle my greatness?”

I glared at him. “Let me be the judge of how great you are.”

“Fair enough. Guess I’ll have to use your crappy midi to prove my point.”

“It gets the job done.”

He sat in front of my midi keyboard, shaking his head. “You just don’t get it.”

My phone bellowed out of my backpack, making me jump.

“Does your cell always scare you?”

I ignored him as I dug the contraption out of my bag. He really didn’t need to know that my mom was the only person who ever called me.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Am I interrupting anything juicy?” Naomi’s voice exploded into my ear.

I held the phone a few inches away. “I don’t understand the question.”

She sighed. “Uh, I’m standing right next to Justin’s car. Did you guys decide to form a band without me?”

“No, we’re discussing our film project.”

Justin shook his head, grinning. Naomi’s voice was loud enough for him to hear every word.

“Discussing it, are you? So proper.”

“Why are we talking on a phone?” I asked, heading up the stairs. “I’m opening the front door.” I snapped the phone shut.

Naomi stood on the porch wearing big sunglasses and a cheesy grin. Her purple hair jutted out in various directions.

“Did you get electrocuted?” I asked.

“No. I’ve been at Scott’s for the last couple hours.” She threw her arms around me, making my entire body stiffen. Her fingers dug into my back, and she rubbed her cheek against my velvet top. “You’re soft, like a kitty.”

I pushed her off me and backed away. “You’re being weird.”

“How’s it going, Naomi?” Justin leaned against the wall behind me, his arms folded across his chest.

Naomi walked over and hugged him. “You feel nice too. Your thermal is all fuzzy.” She ran her hands down his arms.

He frowned and gave her an awkward hug back. “What are you on? E?”

“Maybe.” She giggled and headed downstairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked.