Harmonic Feedback (12 page)

He sighed, rolling his eyes up to the dull sky. “Kinda—yeah.”

“Bad date?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t a date.”

“Why? Did you
want
it to be a date?”

He crinkled his brow at me and shook his head. “You’re an odd duck, Drea.” Before I could ask what the hell that meant, he continued. “I signed up for a camera the weekend after next. Mr. Diaz said everyone waits until the last minute, so I figured we’d beat the rush. Any ideas?”

“Not really. The only movies I’ve made are of sea lions, clouds, and my mom’s retarded ex with my crappy HI-8.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.” He scanned the parking lot. “You need a ride home?”

“It appears that way. But I can call someone.”

“Someone, huh? You’ve got a lot of friends in a town you just moved to.”

I looked away, my stomach tensing at the thought of being alone with him.

“Okay, suit yourself,” he said. “Later.”

Then again, getting a ride home from Justin seemed a lot more exciting than waiting for Mom or even worse—Grandma. “Wait,” I called after him. “You can give me a ride home.”

He turned around and walked backward with a grin. “Oh, can I? Thanks, I feel privileged.”

I followed him to his car, scanning the shiny black paint. M3 gleamed back at me in silver. It looked like a 2006—333 horsepower. Not bad.

He held the passenger door open for me. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite on the first ride home.”

I hesitated. “Huh?”

Justin rolled his eyes and waved me in. “Never mind.”

I slid into the black leather seat, breathing in the faded stench of cigarettes. Probably from Kari. I didn’t like picturing her in this seat.

He got into the driver’s side and started the engine. A song with grinding guitars and piercing synthesizers roared through my ears, but he quickly turned it down and mumbled an apology.

“They’ve got a V-8 M3 now,” I said.

He backed out of the parking space. “You don’t strike me as a car fan.”

“I used to read
Car and Driver
and
Motor Trend
a lot. Now I’m more into sound design.”

“You’ve got some interesting hobbies. So—where do you live?” He pulled onto the main street.

“Make a left at the light.”

“Can you give me a general area?”

“It’s near the bay. That street you make a left on—”

“Holly?”

“Yeah. Keep going straight and then Holly turns into something else after you pass this really big church. I live three streets down from that.”

He glanced over at me with wide eyes. “Oookay. Let me get this straight. I hang a left on Holly, and Holly turns into something else, hopefully another street. And you live on the third cross street after the church.”

“Yeah, it’s either the third or fourth.”

He shook his head, smirking. “Please tell me you know the name of your street.”

I looked out the window, my cheeks growing hot. I never paid attention to names—only landmarks and how many left or right turns it took to get there.

He touched my shoulder before shifting again. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

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.

Justin rolled his eyes at me. “If you have any bottled water, bring it downstairs. If not, use the tap.”

After he followed her, I rummaged through Grandma’s alphabetized pantry and found a jug on the floor. I’d remembered hearing girls talk about E back in San Francisco. It usually involved stories of being up all night or messing around with some
hot
guy.

“This is all I could find,” I said, making my way downstairs.

Naomi was doing what looked like ballet moves across the cement floor. Justin grabbed the water from me and peeled off the seal.

“Sip on this.” He raised the bottle at her and set it near the steps.

“Yeah, I know. Scott told me to drink lots of water, blah blah.” She continued to twirl like she did in the greenbelt.

“Who’s Scott?” Justin asked, sitting in front of my midi keyboard.

“A loser,” I said.

“Yeah, but he’s a loser who gave me two of these for free.” She walked over to me, opening her hand to reveal two small pills with weird etchings on them. “Want one?”

Great, more pills. I had enough of those in my life. “Th-those never really worked for me.”

“God, am I like the last person on earth to try E? You want one, Justin?”

He glanced at me and then turned around, busying himself with the silent midi keys. “No, thanks.”

“You guys suck.” She shrugged and stuffed the pills back into her jean pocket. “More for me.”

“Don’t take them all at once,” Justin said.

“Okay, Dad.” She wrinkled her nose at him and grinned at me. “Have you ever had sex on it?”

I glanced at Justin, knowing my cheeks were probably bright red. There had to be something I could say that didn’t make me sound like a total loser. “My ex-boyfriend took me skydiving once.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

Justin squinted at me. “Don’t you usually have to be eighteen for that?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Right.” He smirked. “Are you going to give me sound here or what?”

I leaned in front of my computer and opened Logic, the recording program I used. “I’ve got a bunch of samples—want me to use the Bösendorfer?” My hands shook. I didn’t understand how people could lie all the time; it took an immense amount of energy.

“It doesn’t matter. They all sound like shit to me. Just put a little reverb on it.”

“I can make it sound good,” I insisted, sticking the sampler on a track and fiddling with the EQ.

“I’ve got the real thing, Drea. Don’t try too hard.”

“Do you prefer bright or dark ’verb? Probably bright, huh?”

He grinned. “You’re the expert.”

It felt weird to have someone watching me, seeing my process. Naomi didn’t seem picky, but what if Justin hated my style? What if I hated his?

Naomi came up behind Justin and rubbed his shoulders. She’d perched her sunglasses on top of her head. “And I have no clue what you two are talking about.”

He shut his eyes and smiled. For some reason, that really bugged me.

She leaned toward his ear. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Do you ask anything
but
personal questions?” He tried out a couple notes and nodded at me. “Not bad—I’ll give you that.”

Naomi leaned over and whispered something in his ear. I couldn’t quite make out what, but it had my name in it.

He pulled away from her touch and focused on the keys. “How about I give you something to dance to?”