The Arts

16 - Don't Fret

ANDI

By some musical miracle, the rock-n'-roll gods had bestowed upon Andi the ability to play through her song on the bass guitar with minimal screw ups.

          Okay, so maybe it was less about a miracle and more about the fact that she had the music provided for her by Robbie to look at outside of practice. She had also managed to sneak in an individual rehearsal the day before Tuesday's jam session.

          There was something significantly scarier about taking the bass guitar when she was alone. Sure, she had managed to do it every time she had practice, but she then spent said practice with two other people. Maybe it was strength in numbers or something, but she always had a sinking feeling that she'd definitely get caught if she were ever alone.

          She almost did, actually. Feeling comfortable with her progress Monday afternoon, Andi set the instrument back in its place, and as she started gathering her stuff to leave, a boy walked right into the room. Like, without even knocking or anything. Had he been ten seconds earlier, her cover would've been blown.

          "Oh, sorry," he said when he saw her, and he started to step back out. Andi kept her head down, keeping her attention on packing up her music. The boy then walked backed in and nearly bore holes into Andi's head with his eyes. Her face flushed. She felt incredibly guilty, even though she didn't even know who this person was. But it was like he was trying to stare deep into her soul.

          "Sorry. I'm almost done," Andi murmured, hoping to be out as soon as possible.

          The boy walked back into the room, tentatively stepping towards her. "No, it's fine. It's just...are you okay?"

          "Um, well, someone walked in without knocking and now he keeps staring at me. So no," Andi snapped.

          "Okay," he responded, now irritated. He breezed past her towards the cluster of instruments against the wall.

          Andi immediately felt guilty for berating a stranger. "Wait. No. I'm sorry," she said.

          "No, you're good. I realize you probably don't remember me, anyway. I mean, you were pretty whacked out last time we talked."

          "What?" Andi wrinkled her nose, confused.

          "At that party a few weeks ago. How do you think you got back to your room?"

          Andi just stared at the boy. One by one all the pieces started to click into place. The party. The tiny weed brownies. The embarrassing rejection. The bathroom conversation.

          This was the same boy who had helped her.

          As her memory was catching up to her, she found herself stammering out, "Um, sorry. I just, yeah, I don't remember. I don't think you even ever told me your name."

          The boy sheepishly grinned and held out his hand. "Henry."

          "Andi," Andi accepted the handshake. When they let go, Henry returned to the instrument wall and grabbed the red bass guitar from its stand.

          Suddenly, Andi's stomach curdled.

          It all made sense. The bass belonged to Henry. That was why Andi recognized it. She had seen him play it at the party.