Page 36 of Disharmony

“Besides,” I say, “this is a massive deal for you. We should do something to celebrate.”

“Well, about that…” A mischievous grin lights up her face. “I’ve found a way around our little Basilisk problem. The gig this weekend sounds like the perfect way to blow off steam, doesn’t it?”

I squeal, forgetting about my place as a backing singer instantly. “Are you serious?”

Cookie twirls a pink dreadlock around her finger. “I told you I’d find a way.”

I didn’t think it’d be possible to go from feeling like shit to experiencing total elation in seconds. In a few days, I’ll be in the same building as a band I’ve worshipped since I first heard them. I’m going to see the Basilisks! Hearing an artist perform live is like nothing else.

“I have to tell…” My excited voice trails off as my stomach drops.

“Brick?” she prompts, reading my mind. Damn me for spilling my guts to her and Leila at lunch. “You need to speak to him.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Think about how he must be feeling,” she urges. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear about everything going on here.”

“I doubt it,” I mumble, but I know she’s right.

There’s only so long we can keep avoiding each other, and one of us has to make the first move to clear the air. I have to fight for our lifetime of friendship.

* * *

I step out of the cabin and tiptoe around the rainbow mural that Cookie painted over theWANNABEscrawl to sit on the steps. Apart from the distant guitar strumming, I have no interruptions.

I stare at my phone and seriously consider telling Cookie I couldn’t get through, but I have to do this. Brick asked for time, and I gave him some. Was it long enough?

I find his name and press dial before I change my mind.

Brick answers after five rings. “Ash?”

Hearing his familiar voice is great.

“Brick,” I say. “Can we talk?”

There’s a long pause.

“Now’s not really a good time,” he says. “I’m working.”

“Oh, okay,” I say. This isn’t the first time I’ve called him at work. Unless there are customers or traders around, Brick usually has the entire office to himself. “Can I call back later?”

He sighs. “I guess I can talk for a minute.”

“So…” I begin, trying to keep things as normal as possible. “What’s up? Anything exciting happening in Meadow Springs?”

“I helped your dad put up a new mailbox.”

“Thanks,” I say. “DIY isn’t his thing.”

We both laugh, but it’s strained. We can’t avoid the issue and skirt around it forever. Being tactful and considerate is something Brick is better at. We don’t argue often, but when we do, it’s always over silly things. He’s always been the first to apologize.

“Look, about what you said at my leaving party—”

“Forget it,” he interrupts gruffly. “I shouldn’t have said it. I knew you didn’t feel the same, so it was stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” I say. “I just…”

Don’t want to lose him?

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