Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

“What did my mom say to you?”

He gave me a sidelong glance. That dimple appeared on his left cheek. “She showed me some of your baby pictures. There was one with cake all over your face and one with bubbles on your head in the tub. Too cute.”

“What?” If I had a picture with bubbles on my head, it needed to be destroyed immediately.

He backed out of the driveway and chuckled. “I’m kidding. She told me to stick to parking lots only and to bring her car back in one piece.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Why? Is there something she should’ve told me?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No. She says stupid stuff sometimes, that’s all.” I looked out the window. We were heading uphill toward the freeway.

“She worries a lot, huh?”

“Did your mom freak out over letting you drive?”

Justin didn’t look at me this time. He focused on the car in front of us. “I’m sure she would’ve.”

“Would’ve?”

We pulled up to a red light. “She died when I was twelve.”

My mouth fell open to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. The only person I knew who died was my grandfather, and I knew him as the guy who sat in a wheelchair and wore diapers. I didn’t depend on him or talk to him every day like I did Mom. “Why? I mean, how—what happened?”

“Lung cancer—and no, she didn’t smoke.” He drummed the steering wheel, still not looking at me.

Sometimes I avoided eye contact when I didn’t know how to answer a question. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about his mom, like Naomi didn’t want to talk about hers. “Where are you taking me?”

A little smile played at his lips. “You’ll see.”

We headed south toward the mountains. Trees lined every inch of the highway. Some of the leaves were fading into shades of orange and yellow. Justin slowed as we neared a sign that read lake padden.

“There’s a trail that goes around the lake. It’s really pretty,” he said.

Walls of evergreens sheltered the parking lot we pulled into. A baseball diamond and tennis court sat in front of an oblong lake. The water resembled glass under the low clouds.

Justin got out of the driver’s side to switch with me, but my legs froze. I couldn’t tell my left from my right when I got nervous. Sometimes I’d start laughing or I’d go into a full-blown panic attack. I’d failed all six driving tests within the first five minutes.

He held the door open for me, a comforting smile on his face.

“Maybe we can go for a walk instead?” I suggested.

“You can do this. Now scoot over or I’ll sit on your lap.”

Before I could protest, he gripped the edges of the seat and moved toward me. Our faces were inches apart. He had gold flecks in his eyes. They were like spots of color in a black-and-white photograph.

“I mean it,” he whispered.

I lifted my shaking limbs over the shifter and settled into the driver’s seat.

After we got the car home, miraculously in one piece, Justin deemed me a parking lot master. He’d made me park and back out what seemed like a billion times—then he had me do something called a donut. That was fun at least.

We went down to the basement so Justin could rerecord the piano part to our first song. Naomi had decided to call it “Invisible.”

“I think you’re ready to cruise the neighborhood,” Justin said, setting up his keyboard.

I shook my head at him, a laugh escaping my lips. “Weirdo.”

“I stockpile my cheesy lines just for you.” He smirked and sat down in front of his keyboard. “I’m ready when you are.”

I created a new track in Logic and hit record. “Go ahead.”

Justin dove right in, playing softly at first. I closed my eyes and allowed the melody to wash over my skin. Good music was something I could feel from head to toe. It calmed me, made me feel safe. I wouldn’t have minded if he wanted to do a hundred takes. But he settled for three.

“I thought up a good band name,” I said when he finished. “M3—like your car. Since there’s three of us and stuff.”

“It’s simple. I like it.” Justin picked up his chair and moved it next to me. “Naomi better finish the vocals. This song is going to be incredible.”

“We should make a band page on MySpace and some other music sites. I belong to this indie music site called Slip Music. It’s a really supportive community.”

“I’m game.” He nudged me and motioned to my computer screen. “So what do you do in Logic? Show me how a producer works.”

I smiled—if there was one thing I had no problems talking about, it was music production and synthesis. I soloed Naomi’s vocals and explained how I’d go about making them sound better. “In this case I added reverb to the track—gives it more space. And then I added some delay, but automated it to only work on certain words.”

Justin leaned in. The heat from his body made the hairs on my arm stand up. “I like that. It adds a lot of depth to her voice.”

I clicked on the guitar track with a shaky finger. “There’s this program called Guitar Rig, which is like a virtual guitar studio. I can approximate most guitar sounds with it, but nothing beats playing through a loud amp.”

“Cool.” His voice was soft, but inches from my ear.

My breath quickened. I moved on to how I created synths. “I see sounds in colors, and oscillators are like my primary colors. I start mixing them together, then I add a filter or two and get the core sound. Effects, LFOs, and modulation matrixes—”

“Drea”—he put his hand on my arm—“you lost me.”

“Oh, sorry. Sometimes I get started and can’t shut up.” Another laugh escaped my mouth.

“Hey.” He touched my cheek, running his fingers along my jawline.

A shiver ran down my back. I hoped my breath didn’t smell like the Doritos I ate after PE. Mom always carried a pack of gum on dates.

He dropped his hand and smiled. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing, regardless.”

“Oh, um…” My knee slammed against my keyboard. “Thanks.”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else.

“So…,” I said.

Justin stood up, looking at the staircase. “I need to take off. Thanks for the mini lesson though. I enjoyed it.”

The air suddenly felt cold around me, and my shoulders sagged. I got up and tried my best to smile at him.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I sucked in my breath, nuzzling my head against his chest. His thermal smelled sweet, like fabric softener.

“Have fun this weekend.” His lips brushed against my ear.

“You too.” I tightened my grip, not wanting to let go.

“See ya.” He pulled away and headed up the stairs—two steps at a time.

EVEN GRANDMA COULDN’T STOP ME from smiling Saturday morning. I devoured the grainy cereal she’d put in front of me and thought about Justin—how he made me feel.

Grandma looked at my empty bowl, her eyebrows pinched together. She pointed to the pink capsule she’d set next to my food: my SNRI. “You haven’t taken that yet.”

I put the pill in my mouth, choking it down with water.

She narrowed her hazel eyes at me. “That helping you any?”

“I don’t know. I just started taking it.” I took my bowl and put it in the sink.

“What’s it supposed to do?”

“Make me less anxious and depressed. But most of them just make me tired.”

“I’m going to start assigning you chores, Andrea. My back isn’t as good as it used to be. Maybe that’ll wake you up.”