Friday, October 4, 2020
Leo's POV
The kitchen felt warmer than usual. Maybe it was the toast or the late-summer sun bleeding through the curtains, but something hummed in the air. I sat at the table, my tea steeping beside a half-finished sketch of a thistle; a delicate, thorned bloom sketched in graphite, shaded with care. It was for an art assignment on symbolic flora. Carlos was already up, tapping furiously on his tablet, muttering something about ghost sightings and electromagnetic spikes. Ray wandered through with his camera bag slung over one shoulder, nodding to me as he grabbed a thermos.
Julie was the quietest of us all. She moved through the house like a breeze that didn't want to be noticed; shoulders squared, curls still damp from the shower, backpack already zipped. She didn't say much, just gave me a faint smile as she passed by, her fingers brushing my shoulder.
Flynn had texted earlier, saying she was already at school, something about the tech crew running late cables for the rally. Julie left without needing a reminder.
I lingered in the kitchen longer than usual, the thistle sketch untouched. Something about Julie's energy felt...charged.
The art room smelled like turpentine and dry clay, which was a comfort. I tucked my bag beneath the long table near the windows, pulling out my sketchbook and finishing the last few lines of my thistle from earlier — the same delicate bloom from that morning. I had chosen the thistle for its meanings: courage, protection, loyalty, and healing. I didn't say it out loud, but I was thinking of Julie when I sketched it. I wasn't in a rush. Today didn't feel like a rushing day.
Ms. Navarro walked by and paused. "That one feels like sunlight," she said softly, then tilted her head to get a better look. "A thistle, right? They have interesting symbolism... courage, healing, and some others. Why did you choose it?"
"It reminded me of my family," I said quietly. "This past year... it felt like all of that. Holding on through something hard. Growing even when it hurts."
She gave a small, thoughtful nod.
Between classes, the gym buzzed louder than usual. Flyers about the spirit rally fluttered in the hallways, and people kept talking about Dirty Candy's performance like it was the only thing happening today. Carrie had been seen in full glitter mode before the second period, flanked by girls in sequins and coordinated sparkles.
I wasn't interested in the drama, but the color palettes stuck with me.
I met up with Zay right outside the gym. He looked nervous, fiddling with his hearing aid like it might bite him.
"Hey," I signed and said, soft but steady. "You got this. And I'll be right there if it gets too much."
Zay nodded. He looked like he wanted to believe it.
The gymnasium was chaos. Streamers in red and silver hung from the rafters, banners covered the walls, and the bleachers were already packed with students buzzing with excitement. Zay and I found a spot near the middle, close enough to see, far enough not to be swarmed.
Carrie and Dirty Candy hit the stage first. Lights dimmed, the music thumped, and sequins caught the beams like mini disco balls. Their choreography was tight, their voices bright and practiced. I could appreciate the showmanship, even if the song wasn't my thing. Zay grinned a little at the flashing lights and leaned toward me, signing, "They practiced a lot."
I nodded. "You can tell."
"Run stuff get a piece of that pie now ♪
We're the best, no doubt ♪
Check it out, Yeah, we make 'em say, "Wow" ♪"
"Come follow me ,We gon' make history ♪
'Cause we are the champions, Like Freddie Mercury ♪
Yeah, we gonna rock you
Never gonna not do ♪
Always making headlines, Yeah, we the hot news ♪
See 'em look
Hear 'em, "Ohh ahh" ♪"
The colorful girl group danced in perfect synergy as Carrie sang the last of the song.
"Wo-ow ♪ Wo-ow ♪ Wo-ow ♪
Check it out, Yeah, we make them say, "Wow" ♪"
Carrie flipped her hair as the crowd cheered. "Thank you", a shout rang out from further down the seats "We love you, Carrie!"
She ran with it and called back, "Oh, I love you too! Make sure to check out my new YouTube video. " Blowing a kiss, "Oh, go Bobcats." as the lights dimmed and she strutted offstage with her group.
Principal Lessa returned to the mic with a slightly dazed smile. "Thank you, Dirty Candy. That was... sweet."
There was an awkward pause. Mrs. Harrison cleared her throat behind her.
"Right," Lessa continued, glancing at her clipboard. "Before we let you go, a few announcements. We look forward to our girls swim team defending our state championship! Go, Bobcats!"
More scattered cheers. Zay clapped politely beside me.
Then the crowd began to gather their things, ready to head to class, when the lights dimmed again. The techs fumbled. A single spotlight clicked on.
The gym hums with restless energy; the clatter of students gathering bags, shoes squeaking across the polished floor, chatter echoing off the walls. The air is warm, buzzing with that familiar mix of boredom and anticipation that clings to every school assembly.
Then, piano notes. Soft. Unsteady. Familiar hands on keys.
I know it's Julie before she says anything, the rhythm of her playing, the way her fingers press with care. Then her voice: calm, steady, filled with something new. Something alive.
My fingers tightened around the cool edge of the bleacher seat. Zay, beside me, had stopped fidgeting entirely. The restless gym — the stomping feet, rustling pom-poms, echoing voices — all faded. It was like someone had turned the world down, leaving just her.
Julie.
She was alone at the keyboard, barely lit by a single spotlight. Her fingers hovered above the keys, then pressed gently, almost nervously. The first notes rang out, delicate and unsure. When she began to sing, her voice wavered just a little, like she was stepping into a space she used to call home but hadn't entered in a long time.
"Sometimes I think I'm falling down
I wanna cry, I'm callin' out♪
For one more try to feel alive. ♪"
Her voice caught, then steadied. She pushed through the melody like it was guiding her forward. Stronger now.
The gym held its breath, waiting to see what she would do. I still remember the spirit rally from last year when she and Flynn put just as much energy into their performance as dirty candy just had - and clearly the rest of the school also remembered.
"Together I think that we can make it
Come on, let's run♪"
Gasps erupted across the crowd as three glowing figures sparked into place on stage — not from the wings or backstage, but as if summoned by the music itself.
"And rise through the night, you and I♪
We will fight to shine together♪
Bright forever♪"
The guitarist stood stage right, wild brown hair under a burnt orange beanie, a sleeveless shirt clinging to his arms. His stance was firm but loose, like he belonged to the rhythm more than the stage. His fingers danced over the strings with ease, but his eyes were locked on Julie — grounded by her.
Behind them, the drummer sat upright at his kit, blond hair tucked neatly behind his ears, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. His motions were precise, controlled. Like every beat was a word he didn't need to say aloud.
And the bassist? The boy in the flannel and ripped jeans? He moved like he was born to. His red bass hung low, swaying with him as he bounced in time with the beat. His face lit up with every note, bright and open, like the music lived just under his skin. He looked toward Julie, then out at the crowd, grinning like he couldn't believe this was real — like we were in on a secret no one else had ever shared.
Then the guitarist stepped up to a microphone right from Julie — his voice raw and bright.
"And times that I doubted myself
I felt like I needed some help♪
Stuck in my head with nothing left♪"
My skin prickled. The hair on my arms rose. These were the same voices; the ones I'd heard, faint and distorted, through the garage walls all week. The ones Julie insisted were just tracks, or ideas, or rehearsal background noise. But here they were. Real. Loud. And absolutely not just tracks.
"Dude," someone whispered behind me. "What is this?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was too busy watching the bassist — the sunbeam in plaid — shoot Julie a look of pure joy before turning to the guitarist, the two of them grinning like they'd just won the lottery.
They moved like a real band. Like they belonged. Then the bassist went over to the guitarist and joined in singing the pre-chorus
"Life is a risk but we will take it♪
Close my eyes and jump♪
Together I think that we can make it
Come on, let's run♪"
The bassist went over to the abandoned keyboard as, Julie sang with the guitarist again, her voice folding into his like they were two parts of the same spark.
"And rise through the night, you and I♪
We will fight to shine together♪
Bright forever♪"
The gym was alight now. Students on their feet. Phones out. Faces glowing from the reflection of stage lights. And then came the bridge — Julie and the guitarist side by side, singing like they'd been waiting to find this moment.
"And when I feel lost and alone♪
I know that I can make it home♪"
When Julie launched into the final chorus, the keyboard player, I realized, had moved to her side and was playing the bass again — threw his head back and laughed, pure and delighted. It was like watching someone wake up to their favorite dream and realize it was real.
"And rise through the night, you and I
We will fight to shine together (Shine together) ♪
Bright forever (Bright forever) ♪
And rise through the night, you and I
We will fight to shine together♪
Bright forever♪"
The final chord hit like sunlight. The band bowed together; Julie in front, the boys flanking her. A perfect, impossible image.
They vanished. Not with a bang, but with a shimmer. Gone in the blink of a spotlight.
The gym exploded. Applause. Whistles. Shouts. Phones out. People on their feet.
And me, still frozen. Hands stinging from how hard I'd clapped. My heart thudding loudly in my chest.
Beside me, Zay looked half-shocked, half-thrilled. "That was insane," he murmured, eyes wide.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. It really was."
I stayed seated even after the crowd began to move, my hands still warm from clapping. Julie was still onstage, frozen behind the keyboard with a look of panic flickering at the edge of her smile. The boys had vanished — poof, like smoke after fireworks. No goodbye.
A student a few rows up asked, "Hey, where'd the rest of the band go?"
"Wait," someone from Dirty Candy — Kayla I think — leaned over with a squint. "Were those holograms?"
Julie stood up quickly, smoothing her dress. "Yes! Yes, they were holograms," she said, laughing nervously. "I plugged it into the ceiling projector before the show. I'd explain it, but it involves algorithms and science stuff."
A few students clapped. Some nodded, impressed. Most just shrugged and accepted it.
Principal Lessa stepped forward and raised her voice. "Okay, people, show's over. Let's get back to class, please."
Mrs. Harrison crossed the stage to Julie, speaking low. Julie's shoulders slumped. But then Lessa joined them and said something that made her whole face change. She lit up like someone flipped on a switch.
I couldn't hear what was said, but I saw the moment it clicked, the way her eyes lit up, the breath she let out, the way she smiled like it filled her whole chest. She nodded quickly, then jumped down from the stage, scanning the crowd.
Flynn was still in the gym, near the side doors, arms crossed and face unreadable. Julie called her name, but Flynn didn't stop. She turned and started walking away.
Julie ran after her.
Zay turned to me, eyes still wide. "That was insane," he said, his voice small under the lingering noise.
"Yeah," I said. "It really was."
We sat there a little longer as students filed out around us, some chatting excitedly, others too stunned to say much. I could still feel the music thrumming under my skin — not like sound, but memory. I kept seeing that moment the bassist had looked out over the crowd with that open, awestruck grin. It stuck with me more than I expected.
Eventually, the noise faded into hallway chatter. The gym slowly emptied, but I could still feel the buzz in the air — like it had soaked into the floor.
Julie got back into the music program. I didn't see it happen, but I heard it from a couple of students in the hallway, whispering about how the principal had been in shock and Mrs. Harrison just nodded like she'd known all along.
Still, there were two more periods left of the school day. But since it's my senior year, Fridays end early, so I have to pass the time waiting for Zay's classes to be done so we can go to the center together. I found a free room to sit and do some homework, so I would not have to worry about it over the weekend. After a while, I got distracted and kept replaying the music, the vanishing boys, the way Julie glowed even as she chased after Flynn.
Zay's mom picked us up after school; a quiet woman with a soft smile and playlists full of indie piano covers. She and Zay's dad alternate who joins him in his ASL classes. I sit in the backseat with my backpack hugged to my chest. Zay rode shotgun and filled the silence with excited chatter, reliving every second of the rally like it had been a full-blown stadium concert.
My phone buzzed halfway through the drive.
Flynn: Did you know about Julie's new band?
Me: No. But… I think I've heard them. They've been practicing with her in the garage after school. Since Tuesday. I didn't ask. Just figured she needed the space.
Flynn was quick to respond.
Flynn: She told me they weren't a band. Just the boys were. And that they were from Sweden??
I stared at that for a second, frowning.
Me: That's… weird.
Me: I'm just glad she was able to perform in front of people again. However it happened. It meant something. But… I'm sorry she tried to lie. That sucks.
There was a pause, just long enough that I started wondering if Flynn had put her phone away. Then
Flynn: Yeah… I'm proud of her, too. I really am. But it hurt. That she'd lie to me. About something that huge. I mean, I would've backed her no matter what. She didn't need to make up some Sweden hologram-boyband excuse.
I stared at her message for a second before typing back.
Me: Yeah. I get that. Maybe give her a little time? She looked scared up there. I think it took everything in her just to show up.
Flynn: I know. And I hate that I get it. Ugh. I'm still mad though.
Flynn: I'm going to egg her bedroom window.
I huffed a tiny laugh and replied:
Me: Be careful. Her aim with a pillow is deadly.
Flynn: So is mine. ;D
The rest of the ride passed in a blur of trees and soft turns. The conversation with Flynn left a quiet ache behind, the kind you get when something funny and sad happens at the same time. I was glad she texted. I was even more glad she still cared enough to be mad.
I stared at the screen for a few more seconds, then opened a new message.
Me:Julie just sang in front of the whole school. And... she's back in the music program. Officially.
I remembered Tuesday, overhearing him and Mom talk in the kitchen about finding a new school program for her. Ray had even looked up private tutors, just in case. He'd been worried, really worried. I hoped this would help, even just a little.
My phone buzzed again a moment later.
Mejor tío:She just told me. Thank you for letting me know.
I smiled softly. He must've been relieved.
I stared at the screen for a few more seconds, then locked my phone and slid it into my pocket. Zay was still talking, but his voice blended into the hum of the car engine and the soft music from the speakers. My focus drifted. My thoughts kept looping back to the stage, to the music, to the moment the boys had appeared and then vanished. It felt like magic. Or a dream I wasn't quite ready to wake up from.
The community center was calm as always. Familiar. The moment we walked in, the buzz of the fluorescent lights and the scent of acrylic paint grounded me. Willow looked up from her spot near the big table and waved, her fingers smudged with pastels, a quiet smile blooming on her face. She was already working, sketchbook open and half a dozen pencils scattered around her. Eileen wasn't around today; she had her Friday martial arts class, and those students didn't make excuses. Dylan was missing too, but that wasn't a surprise. Fridays were prime party material in his book, especially now that he'd graduated high school and picked up regular DJ gigs.
I dropped my bag and slid into the seat across from her, letting the hum of the space settle into my chest. It was quieter here. Gentler.
I opened my own sketchbook, flipping to a fresh page. I didn't want to forget the rally — I tried to sketch the performance — not just the feeling this time, but what I'd seen too. I started with the light, the way it had hit the stage just right. Then Julie's silhouette at the piano, her voice curling around the melody like it had been waiting to come back.
And the bass player.
First, I drew how he looked when they appeared: startled, almost in disbelief, his smile cracking open like a sunrise through fog. His eyes wide, posture caught somewhere between awe and joy. Then I drew him again: grinning, shining, bouncing with joy like the sun had learned how to play bass. It wasn't perfect, but I liked the way the lines curved with movement, how the sketch felt like it could lift off the page if you looked at it long enough.
Zay joined us. He dropped into the seat next to Willow and leaned over to look at my drawing. His hearing aid was still in, and for the first time all day, he wasn't fidgeting with it.
"That's him," he said, pointing at the page. "The bass guy. He was my favorite."
I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Mine too."
We spent the next hour helping with painting signs for the upcoming "music-inspired art" workshop for deaf children, ages 4 to 10. It was scheduled to run from October 14th through the 20th, and the center wanted everything ready in advance. Willow was in charge of colors, Zay handled the stencils, and I did the outlining. It wasn't glamorous, but it felt good, steadying. A way to process what the day had been without needing all the answers just yet.
Later, after the project wrapped and Willow left with her ride, I walked home alone. Zay's mom had offered again, but I wanted the quiet — the space to let everything settle in my head without needing to talk.
The sidewalk was warm under my boots, the sun still stretching long shadows across the street. A few fallen leaves crunched beneath my steps. I didn't have my implant in.
Halfway home, I stopped and pulled out my phone. Julie hadn't texted me all day. Part of me wondered if she was okay. If Flynn had forgiven her yet. If she even knew how much today had meant — not just to the crowd, but to the people who knew her best.
But I wrote one anyway.
Me:You were amazing.
I slipped the phone back in my pocket and kept walking, - humming under my breath without realizing it.