Everyone has a song that captures who they are. No one but Leila Gonzalez can hear them.
Melodies and tunes fill her head everywhere she goes, and all she wants is to replicate them in her songwriting. There's just one problem: she sucks at songwrit...
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THE PALE BLUE SKIES and bright sunny days betrayed her. Leila groaned into her pillow, face smushed together. Her hair was in a bun on top of her head, though useless because the scrunchy barely secured anything. Strands ran down her back and around her face, all of it defying gravity. She cut her relationship with lip balm, so her lips chapped and tore. Baggy clothes were all that touched her body in the form of her comfiest pajamas.
All of that added up to pure concern from her parents, but she didn't find it in her to explain. She stopped going to her guitar lessons, much to Mr. Ferrer's dismay. He tried calling and texting over and over again, but she never answered. She had to block Neil because he kept blowing up her phone.
She stayed in bed for most of the day, staring out into the window without doing anything. Occasionally she'd come out of her cave to find something light to eat, but then she'd go back to her bed and dive into her blankets. Elisa tried to get her to talk every night before she fell asleep, asking questions about unicorns and dragons to distract her from whatever was happening, but Leila kept quiet, pretending to be passed out already.
That particular day, weeks after the Hillbourne Music Fest, she sat up in bed, mentally cursing out the sun for filtering into her bedroom window and hitting her face. She threw out her blankets onto the floor, finding that she was alone. Elisa had already gone out, probably causing trouble in the living room.
Leila opted to switch to her desk, sitting back on her seat as she traced the edge of her wooden desk. Her father had found it on the edge of a street in perfect condition years before, so he brought it back for her, and she'd been putting to good use ever since. Her multiple journals and notebooks piled up on one corner, filled with her words that never dared to be said. She plucked out her current notebook and her preferred purple pen, feeling its familiar weight on her fingers.
Oh, how she wished to write down all the gnarly words that swirled in her head. All the unspeakable thoughts of what her red, hot anger wanted to scream into oblivion. Her heart hammered, but she let go of her pen.
She'd bury the sword deep into his chest with words another day. Right then, she wished to cease from existence just to be at peace or to know no pain.
That familiar spell-binding song tickled her soul, and she sighed not even bothering to turn around.
"Hey, Leila, we're going to the stores today," her mother spoke. "You're welcome to join us."
She shook her head, staring down at the palms of her hands.
"Okay, well, there's food in the fridge if you're hungry. Hope you feel better, mi corazón."
The door to her room clicked shut, and she ran a hand over her hair. She barely remembered what the outside world looked like. She hadn't gone outside since they came back from that restaurant after the music festival. She retired to her bedroom away from the evil world, and that was that.
Silence surrounded her, and she knocked her forehead against her desk with a groan. Neil didn't have a song. He was a silent soul she grew used to. She snatched her headphones and played the first song on her library.
She almost broke her phone when Flynn began singing into her ears. Her fingers pressed on a few buttons before a random female singer sang about heartbreak. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she willed them down.
Whenever she was sad, she liked to go to the bakery for her favorite cupcake. But the thought of changing and walking down to street level exhausted her. On the other hand, maybe she could gain more life by coming out of her cave. Her stomach agreed with the latter statement, no doubt wanting to have that cupcake inside.
Before she could change her mind, she changed from her penguin pajamas and into her oversized gray sweater and black sweats, and charged right out of her apartment. She didn't dare look at anyone as she pulled her hair into a high bun and reached the sidewalk. The shock of heat made her stop before she crossed the street and entered Dominic's Sweets.
The bakery was practically empty, but that jazz track played in her mind as prominent as ever.
"Little Leila!" Mr. Johnson called out, a large smile over his face. Leila hunched her shoulders, wishing to reciprocate his enthusiasm. "What's got you frowning again? Come on now. Let's sit, let's sit."
She followed him to the same booth they always took at the end of the bakery. She sunk into her seat, swallowing down her tears.
"I heard you performed at the festival!" Mr. Johnson said. His bright eyes widened in amazement, and that brought a small smile on her lips for the first time in weeks. "I always knew you had it in you."
"I think I shouldn't have done it in the first place," she confessed. He frowned. "You probably know who I performed with too?"
Mr. Johnson's face sobered, understanding flooding into him. "I do."
"Then you'd probably know why it was a bad idea," she continued. "Blew up in my face."
"What happened, darling?"
So she told him everything. She didn't leave a single detail out of the story. They'd take breaks in between whenever a customer came inside, but she managed to voice out why she looked like she had died and was brought back to life when she wasn't ready.
"Maybe he didn't have the best of motives, but it sounds like he might have regretted it at the end there," Mr. Johnson said. Leila narrowed her eyes. "You two worked so well, and he probably learned better. It just didn't play out right. I think you should give him a chance to explain."
She scoffed. "He had plenty of time to explain, but all he did was freeze as if caught red-handed. Which he was. I should've known better. Everyone knows he's not good news."
Mr. Johnson sported a kind smile. "Don't be easy to pass judgement on others without knowing the full story. It makes for bigger regrets in the future."
Leila let her shoulders fall. She knew he was right, but the thought of letting go of her anger also scared her. She didn't want to let herself fall for his tricks again. She was done with that for good.
"Now, you want a cupcake to make you feel better?" He pointed to the glass counters, and she didn't even think twice before nodding. He laughed and asked her to follow him.
She said her goodbyes to Mr. Johnson in no time, conflicted about whether she should let go of the situation or still bury herself in her personal cave. She weighed the options in her head as she walked out of the bakery, letting the icky humidity mingle with the sugary scent of the bakery as she pushed the door out hard and smashed it into someone going through, earning a hard grunt.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I wasn't...looking." She came face to face with Neil, who clutched at his forehead. She stared at him for a second too long before briskly crossing the street, not even caring about incoming traffic.
"Leila, wait!" He ran after her. She tried to get inside her apartment building, but he was too fast. She held back a groan as she looked away from him. "Please, Leila, can we please talk?"
She dared a glance. His eyes bored into hers, pleading. He held out a hand, but she took a step back and clutched her bag containing her red velvet cupcake tighter to her body.
"Please," he whispered.
Leila breathed in deeply before nodding.
She shouldn't have walked out into the outside world.
