Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

I was filming Grandma lining up a row of angel figurines when Naomi showed up. Her big blue eyes appeared in the frame, looking red-rimmed and sleepy. But her lips stretched into a wide smile. She had no idea I’d ratted her out.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the camera. The afternoon light pierced her blond roots, making her hair look thin.

“Hi.” I panned to Grandma. The school camera weighed a ton, and using a tripod was the only way I could keep it steady.

Naomi walked behind me, peering at the little LCD screen. “You’ve got it zoomed in really far. I can practically see the dirt under her nails.” She pressed a button, pushing the image of Grandma farther away. “There ya go.”

I elbowed her arm. “I had it there for a reason, Naomi.”

“Sorry. Damn.” She huffed and sat on the grass. “So I guess you’re mad after all.”

“What do you mean?” I focused on Grandma’s face. She watched the street, hands on her hips. Her eyes widened with each passing car.

“You said it was okay. I mean— he asked me, and we’re just friends. It’s not like it was like that , you know?”

Her words melded together in my head. All I could think about was what she’d do when my mom called her dad.

“Oh, what? You’re going to ignore me now? You should’ve just said something, Drea.”

Grandma turned then, her eyes piercing the frame. She instantly covered her face and spun around. “I told you to turn that off, Drea! You’ll scare the customers away.”

“What customers?”

“I’ll throw it in the street. I’m not kidding,” Grandma said.

“Then you can pay my teacher three thousand dollars to replace it.”

Grandma crinkled her nose and stormed back into the garage, mumbling something about disrespect. “Get me if anyone shows up!” she called.

I clicked the camera off and knelt in front of Naomi. The grass was damp and cold.

“Do you want a blanket?” I asked.

She studied my face for a moment. “You aren’t mad, then?”

“No—I just had a good shot and you messed it up. That’s all.”

“I was trying to help! But I guess I can’t do anything right.”

I looked away from her glare, hugging myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, yesterday—you bit my head off because you dropped your lunch box. It wasn’t my fault, Drea. I didn’t knock it out of your hands.”

The cutting sound of her voice made me want to get up and run, but I closed my eyes, trying to think of the right words.

“You could at least look at me,” she said.

“I don’t like seeing you so angry at me.”

A few seconds of silence went by. Finally, she exhaled. “Sometimes it just seems like I annoy you. Like you don’t want me around.”

I opened my eyes. She was looking down, running her fingers through the grass. “I do want you around.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. We sat quietly for a minute before a smirk crossed her lips. “Justin told me about his juvie days last night. That’s kinda hot, right?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No way. Justin in handcuffs? Awesome.” She laughed.

Their talk didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.

“Why is that funny?”

She leaned back on the palms of her hands. “Um—because it’s Justin. That image is a little hard to picture.”

“His mom died. Do you think that’s funny and awesome too?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Of course not. But shit happens, people die. It’s not a reason to stop living yourself.”

I pulled up a chunk of grass and let it sift through my fingers. “Whatever.”

“There you go again—acting all pissy.”

My stomach tensed. “I just don’t understand some of the things you say.”

“It’s called having a sense of humor, Drea.”

I counted the loose blades of grass in my hand. “Okay.”

“I should’ve been sixteen in the eighties,” she continued. “I would’ve been the perfect punk chick.”

“Why can’t you be a punk chick now?”

“Because Sid is dead, duh.”

I threw grass at her. “He died in 1979.”

She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Anyway, Justin had a conniption because I called Green Day old-school punk. So he gave me a CD with the Dead Milkmen, Sex Pistols, the Clash, and a bunch of others on it. Good stuff.”

“Cool.” I looked at her empty driveway across the street. “Is your dad home this weekend?”

“Nope, but his vacation starts next Saturday. He claims he’s taking me car shopping.”

My chest relaxed. At least I had a week to convince Mom not to call. “You never said how your dinner went Thursday.”

“It was a dinner with Dad, not an all-night party. What exactly is there to talk about?”

“You seemed excited, that’s all.”

“What I really want to talk about is you and Justin. He’s so gaga over you.”

I let a smile slip.

“Ooh. You’re blushing. Something’s totally happened—fess up.”

I buried my face in my knees.

“Oh my God. You hooked up with him!”

I put my hand against her mouth. “Shut up. My grandma will hear you.”

She pulled back. “I wasn’t talking that loud. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“We kissed,” I whispered.

“What?” She leaned forward, her eyes widening.

I brought my mouth to her ear. “Kissed.”

“Kissed what?”

“You know—with our mouths.”

Her brows pinched together. “That’s it?”

I ached to tell her the truth. That I’d never had a boyfriend before. I wanted to ask her all about her first time. What was normal, what wasn’t. But she’d probably think that was funny too.

A slowing car caught my attention. Justin pulled up to the curb in front of us.

Naomi grinned, standing up. “Speaking of a certain ex-thug.”

“Don’t call him that.”

She rolled her eyes and ran over to Justin’s car.

I stayed back and watched them through the lens of the camera. The world looked so different this way. Naomi’s smile seemed less real, and Justin looked almost shy. I zoomed in as he pulled out of their hug. He stared right into the camera, like he was trying to see inside my mind. Naomi glanced over at me and whispered something. He eyed the ground and shrugged.

I focused on Naomi’s mouth as they walked toward me. It moved so quickly. Like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Justin’s lips curved up, not enough to be smiling. But enough to look unassuming. Pleasant.

“She can’t seem to stop messing around with that thing,” Naomi said.

Justin came within a few feet of me and stopped. “Hey.”

I straightened, peering over the camera. “Hi.”

Naomi’s gaze bounced between us. “Hello, awkward.” And then the wicked grin took over. “Drea tells me you two had quite the hot night.” She punched his arm.

He shot me what could only be a confused look. “That’s interesting.”

“Don’t,” I said, hoping she’d drop it for once.

“Yeah, apparently you guys…” She put a hand over her mouth, pretending to giggle.

“What? I missed the joke, sorry,” Justin said.

My heart thudded. “Naomi, please stop.”

“Drea said you guys”—she nudged him and whispered—“kissed.” Then she covered her mouth like it was the most shocking thing ever.

My cheeks burned, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran into the house, slamming the basement door behind me. Naomi must’ve known what a big deal that kiss was to me. And she didn’t care. It was a joke to her. I was a joke.

I buried my face in the softness of my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

The basement door creaked open a couple minutes later.