Page 53 of Second Song

“It’s working?”

“Hopefully. Small and steady exposures should help him.” He points out what I thought were trip hazards. “A bridge getting bombed isn’t the only conflict Hadi’s lived through, but this is the first time he’s been able to tell us about losing his family. Up until now, he hasn’t ever mentioned them. He’s still only vague now. The detail is too painful, but he’s voiced how alone it left him. How isolated. How each time he can’t cross a bridge feels like letting down his special people.”

I’m aware that Luke keeps talking, but I can’t look away from Rowan. Not yet. Not when his face bleeds pure compassion, like he understands this.

Luke’s voice fades. “Hadi thought I was disappointed when he broke down that first time.”

Rowan nods, his eyes suddenly shiny, and fuck whoever told him that word was his label. Fuck a school he’s already told me he didn’t fit in. Disappointing? I don’t fucking think so.

I’m jerked back to the here and now by his boss directing a question at Rowan. “Loud noises scare him, so we’ve been avoiding them. What made you give him something even louder to bash away on?”

Here’s another frozen moment until Rowan chokes out, “Because Charles told me that getting really physical helps when kids are stuck, and—” His mentor nodding must help. This floods out faster. “Drumming drowns out everything else. Can feel like a fight you actually get to win. Makes you feel powerful when you have no choice?—”

He stops as abruptly as he started until his boss murmurs, “Go on.”

Rowan does. “I don’t know when I forgot about that powerful feeling.” He scuffs at playground flooring as soft as his confession. “But I did forget, right up until I got here, so really you’re thanking the wrong person.”

It’s me he lifts his eyes to.

Me his gaze searches.

“I wouldn’t have remembered without Liam. He set the beat with his sledgehammer this afternoon. I just followed. We all did.”

His mentor agrees. He also casts a quick glance between Rowan and me. I’m almost sure he winks before asking. “Luke, wouldn’t it be a good idea if Liam got to meet our guest this evening?”

Luke nods. “To look through what’s in the time capsule? Good thinking.” He faces me. “Come back at seven? Share some supper with us and meet an expert at preserving old papers? He’s going to work through the contents with the pupils. The whole school will be there. Actually…” He looks over his shoulder to where Dom dances with his daughter. “I better invite Dom’s crew.”

He leaves to do that while his son must have left the high hat to bang again on that big bass drum. It might as well be thumping away inside my chest when Rowan asks, “I know crowds aren’t your thing. It’ll probably be really noisy.” The only word for his request is hopeful. “Want to come with me?”

He already told me wild horses couldn’t drag him back to his old school.

Right now, wild horses can’t drag me away from this one.

21

ROWAN

I’m supervising prep until six, and it’s amazing what a difference three weeks make. I kill time until seven by prowling a school I know inside out now that I’ve covered homework sessions in so many of its classrooms. That means I also know which windows overlook the car park—Liam’s van isn’t down there yet. Dom’s is. He waves up at me along with Maisie.

I don’t go out to join them just yet. I can’t while someone’s drumming.

Teo’s in the same place as usual, only he’s shut the door instead of propping it open, and his drumming is angry.

I let myself in. “You coming to take a look at the time capsule?”

“Nah.” Teo is stone-faced this evening. “Too busy, innit.” He clutches his drumsticks to his chest as if I’ll steal them from him. I don’t want them. I want to tempt him out of a room I also used to hide in.

“There’s some music inside it.”

“Yeah?” He’s interested then, alert in the same way his artist friend captured. Then his eyes narrow, and he’s back to the cagey of my first week here. “What kind?”

That caginess doesn’t faze me. Neither does his stone face. The more times I see it, the more I remember Mum paying no attention to her sink-school kids’ attitudes, letting music be a bridge between her and them. I do the same now. “No idea.” I shrug, leaving—or almost—but not before making a casual suggestion. “We could take a look, see if there’s anything worth playing together.”

His next “Nah” is quieter. So is him saying, “I heard you drumming though, sir. With the little ones. Sounded good.”

“Sounded like chaos, you mean.” I can’t keep in a grin. “Think I’ll still be hearing it in my sleep.” That’s a reminder of the other person I’m missing. I take another step out, wanting to see if Liam’s here yet. “But listen, there’s a hot dog supper after the talk. Come for that, at least.”

He doesn’t say “Nah” this time. Teo just rests the tips of his sticks on a cymbal, and I’ve drowned out enough unwanted conversations in the past to know what to expect next. He’ll drown me out like I used to anyone who tried to interrupt my own lonely practice sessions. That worked, but it also left me…

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