Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

The endless turns made me dizzy. Stop. Go. Stop. Crawl. Stop. Every second seemed like an eternity. And the screaming vocals certainly weren’t helping the mood.

Finally, Naomi let out a wicked laugh and tore the blanket from my head. “That was such a rush.”

I gaped at her grinning face. “Are you crazy?”

“Probably.” For whatever reason, she seemed proud of this.

We made a right onto the main street and got onto the freeway on-ramp. “We should go back and return the stuff. They saw us—and they probably have cameras.”

Naomi shrugged. “I didn’t see any. Besides, it’s not like we robbed a bank. We stole some overpriced lingerie.”

“ We didn’t do anything.”

She rolled down the window, sticking a cigarette between her lips. “You can’t tell me your friends back in San Francisco or Vegas or wherever never ripped anything off.”

“We went to parties and clubs and stuff.”

Her blue eyes lit up. “Ooh, you got a fake ID?”

“No.”

She sped up to eighty-five. “How’d you get in? Did you flirt with the bouncer?”

“The speed limit is sixty.”

“I had no idea. Tell me again.” Her smile faded, and she pressed harder on the gas.

“The speed limit is—”

“Do you take everything literally?”

I glanced down at my shaking hands. They looked pale and small in my lap. “I don’t understand the point of saying something you don’t mean.”

“I don’t understand the point of a lot of things.” She turned up the radio, and we rode the rest of the way home in silence.

WE WAITED FOR GRANDMA to go to bed before we lined the floor with newspapers and cracked open the paint. Naomi rambled on about Scott, the time Kari got lice, and a bad acid trip she had as if she’d completely forgotten the incident at the mall. I got this gnawing pain in my gut every time I looked at the stolen lingerie on my floor.

“You do realize this is a hideous color, right?” Naomi slapped the roller onto the wall, splattering paint across her cheeks. “Oops.”

“It’s a happy color.”

“Says the girl who almost always wears black. I like the smell of paint, though—makes my head all nice and fuzzy.”

“Hey, Drea.” Mom headed down the stairs. She was wearing a fitted black dress and matching heels. “Oh, God.” Her eyes widened at the lime green paint. “Grandma is going to kill us both.”

“I’ll paint it white again when we move out.”

“Damn it, Drea. You should’ve asked me first.” She sighed. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m going on a second date with that dentist tonight.”

“Ooh,” Naomi said. “Is he hot?”

Mom grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Very.”

I wondered if Mom wished I was boy crazy like Naomi. Maybe she’d talk to me more—like, tell me more about the guy in the first place.

“Anyway, make sure you keep the windows open and don’t sleep in here overnight.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sleeping at Naomi’s.”

Mom gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, sweetie. See you later, Naomi.”

“Bye.” Naomi wiggled her fingers at Mom and slapped the wall with the roller again.

“You’re not supposed to beat the wall with it.”

She blew her purple bangs out of her face. “My arms are getting tired.”

I shook my head and dipped my roller in the pan. The jittery tunes of Imogen Heap’s “Goodnight and Go” wafted in the background. The song put a grin on my face because it reminded me of Justin. I sang along.

Naomi snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Drea, I think you’re a wonderful human being.” She sighed and met my gaze. “But you can’t sing.”

I moved closer to her and sang louder.

“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Get your mind off Justin already, will ya?” She smirked as if she’d read my mind.

I focused back on the wall. “It’s not on him.”

“It so is. You’re thinking about the many ways you can rip his clothes off and ravage him.”

Giggles escaped my throat. “Nooo.”

“You should invite him tonight.”

“He’s got work.”

“At midnight? I highly doubt it. But maybe it’s past his bedtime—he does seem like he’s every mother’s dream.” She laughed and slapped more paint on the wall. “I bet he helps little old ladies cross the street in his spare time.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He just seems a little too nice, you know?”

“I don’t think he’s fake, if that’s what you mean.” Usually people smiled too much or asked pointless questions in a high voice when they were being fake. Justin never did that.

She grinned and flung paint at me. “You’re so hooked.”

I loved moments like this with Naomi. They felt close and warm. If I could put this moment between us in a box, I’d hide it under the bed and take it out whenever I could. And I’d throw out the incident at the mall and Scott. I wished this was enough for her. I wished I was enough for her.

We watched Ferris Bueller with achy arms and grumbling stomachs. Saturday night wasn’t the best night to have a pizza delivered quickly. Naomi’s blue floral couch smelled like cat pee, and Lizzie insisted on playing with my hair.

Naomi was laughing at a scene where this guy Cameron didn’t want to leave his dad’s Ferrari at a parking garage in downtown Chicago. He listed all the bad things that could happen to it, which made perfect sense. But his friend Ferris didn’t think it was a big deal, even though they took the car without permission.

“You remind me of Cameron,” Naomi said.

“Why?” I detached Lizzie’s claws from my hair.

“You freak out over little stuff.”

“I wouldn’t call getting caught stealing little .” I was happy when she’d taken the clothing and stuffed it in her dresser. Out of my sight.

“Uh, how about throwing the pipe at Roger because the bell rang?”

“I didn’t throw it at him. And I told you—I needed air.”

“Or how about freaking out over ice cream expiration dates? Plus, you’re pouty like Cameron is.”

“I don’t mean to be.” Lizzie made smacking sounds next to my ear. “Why is your cat eating my hair?”

Naomi hoisted the cat from her perch and kissed her head. “She likes you. Don’t you, Lizzie Wizzie?” Lizzie meowed in response, her dreamy green eyes blinking once.

Keys rattled in the front door lock. Lizzie scrambled out of Naomi’s lap and squeezed her chubby body under the couch.

“It’s just my dad. He went camping with some buddy of his.”

The door swung open and a tall man wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans walked in. He had sandy hair and thin arms—almost scarecrowlike.

I looked back at Naomi. She focused on the movie. Two parking attendants were stealing the red Ferrari.

“How are you, Kari?” Her father was peering at me from the dim entranceway.

“It’s Drea, Dad. Our new neighbor. I told you she’d be coming over.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “Naomi, I’m taking…” The roar of the car on TV drowned out his words.

Naomi hit the mute button. “You can come in here, you know. I can’t hear you.”

Her father cleared his throat and inched into the living room, giving us a tight smile. “I have to cover for Brenda this week, but I’ve got the first two weeks of October off. We’ll car hunt then, okay?”

“Why not leave me a check and I’ll do it myself?”