Page 88 of Second Song

I do, even though I’m locked and loaded, primed and ready, never surer that today’s mission is worth hurrying towards instead of hiding away from.

Charles asks about a different mission. “Listen, are you absolutely certain you’re okay with taking over as Nathan’s full-time classroom assistant while I take some leave?” A cloud covers his usual perpetual sunshine. “I don’t know how long I’ll get to keep my new twin wrigglers.” But here’s the thing about Glynn Harber—any clouds or rain here only means I have more options.

“Covering for you suits me just fine. I’m not ready to finish my teaching degree.” I can say that now and see it as winning, not losing yet another prize. An extra year of play is a gift, the right path forward for me, and the man who joins us helped me come to that decision. “Reece. What are you doing here?”

“Reminding you that you always have options.”

Charles crows, “That’s what I said.” He also shows his family photos to this counsellor who I’ve walked and talked with all summer long. Now we’re only a week away from a new school year that feels like a fresh page in my workbook, one I get to fill instead of other people doing that for me. I’m not saying I’m done with what I used to lock away or hide behind thick fog banks. I’m just saying that I can let myself feel now without becoming voiceless.

We get as far as the school entrance before someone else who helped me with that process joins us.

“Photos of the twins?” Luke takes the phone from Charles to share it with Austin, and there’s nothing fierce at all about this bursar’s cooing although there is a touch of insistence in his quiet question while we all take the stairs up to the next floor.

“You know we aren’t relying on this money, don’t you?”

“For today’s interview and song? Or from the fundraiser concert later?” I pause outside a study door where students will knock and wait come September. Today I only stop there to make sure this protective squadron all hear me. “Listen, I’d do all of it for free as long as what happened to me is out in the open.” Here’s an emotion I don’t need a deck of cards to name now that I’ve kicked fear in the nuts. “I’m still angry about what happened. That’s why I’m going public.”

Reece nods. Letting out this fury is healthy.

I nod back just as firmly. “There’s no way they get to reboot that show without the whole world knowing what they made me think for so long. Let them exploit more kids? Make them think they’d been…” There’s still one word I can’t say, and that’s okay too, Reece’s next nod tells me. Those dicks don’t get to choose the vocabulary that describes me. I’m the only one who gets to do that. For now, I settle for saying, “I can’t stay silent.”

I do need to add this, making sure to meet one worried gaze in particular. “Your lawyer friend won’t let me say anything that could get me into trouble, Charles. We’ve rehearsed it backwards and forwards.” I crane my neck towards the end of the hallway. “He’s here?”

Charles slides his phone away. “Yes.”

“And Ed and Pasha?”

Charles nods again.

I repeat what I said in the car. “Then let’s do this.”

And we do as soon as we reach the practice rooms where I first heard Teo play like his life depended on him never stopping.

Today, some other kid’s life might depend on me spitting my own bullets, so Pasha waits behind a borrowed mic and Ed tunes a guitar while technicians adjust lighting. The seat behind the drum kit is empty, waiting for me, while Teo holds out a set of drumsticks he’s come back a week early to share with me.

I can’t take them from him. Not yet.

Not when I hear marching footsteps, and Liam arrives to stand sentry.

“What are you doing here?”

“Matt and the lads are watching your cousins.” He steps aside, and there’s Dad guarding the other side of the doorway. I thought Liam was the only man I knew who had a ghost smile. Now Dad’s flickers, his accent a soft Irish promise. “You don’t ever have to face this on your own, Row.”

My eyes blur, and Liam takes my glasses, giving the lenses a good hard rub. Our hands brush when he gives them back, his forehead pressing mine for a too-quick second.

“Sing from the heart, Row.”

And me?

I close a soundproof door behind me that could feel like a prison door slamming.

Choosing to do it myself feels like freedom.

You know what else feels like freedom later that evening?

Performing live in a sculpture garden as the sun lowers to kiss the ocean, and you better believe that now I’ve found my voice, I use it. That terraced space acts like an amphitheatre. All three of our voices—Ed’s, Pasha’s, and mine—fill it to raise even more cash for the school, applause still echoing long after we’re finished, and everyone leaves for home or hotels.

Liam drives me back along the coast road. Each twist comes with stunning views that are wasted when I can’t stop looking at the man who clapped the loudest for me. Liam looks my way too. Only for a split second while driving, but that’s long enough to see something other than a ghost smile flicker. He doesn’t keep me hanging. “Feel like getting into danger?”

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