Page 81 of Second Song

Liam’s next murmur fills a much longer silence. “There’s no rush. I got all the time in the world to wait for you to figure yourself out, Row. I’m just saying it must have been a mind-fuck. Waking up with no idea how you got to bed, then have someone tell you that you’d done private stuff in public? With strangers you didn’t remember and who photographed you without you knowing? Who maybe videoed you as well?”

That final threat was when I’d caved. Crumpled. Fell until I landed somewhere safe in Cornwall.

Liam neatly summarises. “That’s messed up, Row. Telling you that you owed them for paying off some wanker with a camera? Didn’t matter that they fabricated that shit. You had to deal with not being sure you’d even said yes.”

“I wouldn’t have.” I clutch my sticks like Teo has so often. “I wasn’t even out.” Another surprise that made coming back here as a student impossible to deal with. Now there are posters in the common room signposting the way to all kinds of support. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone not ready for it and stuck in a school full of boys.”

Liam waits for my next clash of cymbals to settle, headphones still on even while he winces. “All of that with no one to talk to?” He gestures around us. “You thought you’d burned your bridges here? That you couldn’t ask for your stepdad’s help during the contest?”

I nod. Shrug. Nod again. “I didn’t know how. Not after wanting to leave so badly.”

“And you didn’t have anyone else while all that was happening?” He touches something on the workbook page he reads from. “A support network?”

“That was always music. Afterwards?” I shrug again. “My stepdad made one for me.”

That’s a recent realisation. Maybe I sound guilty. Liam only points at the image on my band T-shirt where a prism shows white light splitting. “You expect any of your colourful kids to deal with shit like that all on their own?” He chuffs and turns more pages while I drum my way through that question, although these beats are far less frantic.

All I know is that guilt kept me in check, and that’s what I can’t let Cameron struggle with later when he trades places with Liam, although Cameron faces his regret head-on.

“Sorry I called you a tosser.”

It’s surprisingly easy to smile at the photo he holds against the glass. There I am, smiling back and untouched by dart holes, which is why he’s sorry.

“I could have said right away that they never aimed their darts at you.”

All the contestants in this photo are undamaged. Ed and Pasha only obliterated the people who pulled all of our strings, and getting to see this evidence of a fight response in action? It’s what I need to see to know this isn’t over between me and people who have zero power over me now.

“I’ll fight back until they’re sorry.”

I say that to an empty practice room, then I fight some more for Teo when we’re alone together and he takes a turn with the sound booth headphones. I start by pointing a stick at the electronic drum kit I’ve set up for him complete with a loop pedal. “Teo, before we switch sides, can I quickly check something?”

“About the equipment?” He surveys this studio setup, running a fingertip along the monitors Glynn Harber is missing, along midis and equalisers my stepdad gave me my own key to this room to access.

“No.” I swallow, but I’m done with doubting my instincts. “I want to check something about you.”

“Me?” Here he goes, clutching his drumstick defences, ones he’ll never need against me. I tell him why, right here where my own musical solution to feeling bad turned into a problem too big for me to handle.

“Nothing used to matter but making my audition perfect. I practised every spare second. That’s how you feel now, right? Nothing else matters but getting your audition perfect for this one uni application?”

His nod is wary and so familiar that I verbally backtrack through my timeline. “I couldn’t see my drivers then, but I can now. Maybe ask yourself if there’s anything else driving you, because if this particular course feels like your only option, I promise you it isn’t. Please just think about that first.”

Silence stretches until Teo finally tells me, “I have been thinking, Mr. Byrn.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah. Been doing that nonstop since it all kicked off in the playground. You know, when you said this wasn’t what I really wanted.” His fleeting gaze is bruised and avoidant. I hate being responsible for that until he blurts, “Did you know about my sister?”

He tells me about a sports coach. About the grooming no one noticed for years. About what finding out did to his whole family, and about his own violent reaction.

“Now Leonie’s training to be a doctor, so that’s a happy ending, right, sir?”

His gaze rises, this time connecting with mine, and here’s what Luke would call a payoff—a page turned in a mental workbook—and after everything that’s happened, the trust behind his next question makes building this bridge worth it.

“So why can’t I quit thinking that more bad things will happen? You know, to someone else I love if I’m not right there to stop it.”

I’m not saying I have answers for him, but he’s opened a door. You better believe I’ll walk through it with him. “Mr. Lawson will know. Want to ask him together?”

Teo doesn’t say yes.

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