Waveborn

14

Jen was gone by the time Cass returned to the Andiamo. Of course. Why would she stop working just because it was Saturday?

She listened to Jason's songs until her MP3 player's batteries died and, as evening-and the band rehearsal-approached, she looked up a map of Rodger's Island online and found what she was pretty sure was Jason's house. It was at the far end of the island's one road, even farther than the Piper Center, and would take at least an hour to walk there. She should ride her fancy new bike.

At least, that's what she told herself as she heaved it over the side of the Andiamo and pushed it up the dock. Gusts of wind tugged at her hair and send the streamers fluttering. Her footsteps slowed as she envisioned one of those gusts pushing too hard, the front wheel skidding, and her flying over the handlebars.

Coward that she was, she turned back before she reached shore. Walking would give her a chance to listen to the songs one last time without worrying that the distraction would make her crash.

Except that her MP3 player was still dead and it was past time for her to leave if she was walking, so there wasn't time to charge it...so instead of spending the walk listening to music, getting centered, and convincing herself that she was ready to sing, she alternated running and walking the entire distance until her heart felt like a jackhammer thudding nervousness in her ears.

Practice was supposed to start at seven. She didn't reach Jason's place until half past. Cass followed the sound of a violin around the house to a smaller building, its windows filled with strands of shell and sea glass.

Inside, the others were playing one of the songs Jason had copied for her. They'd changed the arrangement from the recorded version, Jason taking over the vocal part on violin and Evie playing harmony on keyboard. The resulting sound wasn't quite as full as the version Jason had given her, but it didn't sound like it was missing anything, either.

The violin broke off. A figure moved past the window and she heard Jason say something, followed by Evie's reply; then Reis-she assumed it was Reis, but she couldn't see him from the path-rapped out a rhythm. They began again, rewinding a few measures to try some variation on what they'd just played.

The three of them played the way they talked: like they could complete each other's thoughts. Cass understood then why Evie thought there wouldn't be time to add a vocalist. They seemed to know where the others would change tempo or phrasing, or where they'd take a detour to improvise.

They broke off at a sour note, and she breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't perfect; but there was still a not-so-quiet little voice whispering that she should turn around and leave, because they were really, really good. Professional-sounding. Add the fact that they'd been playing together forever and it seemed less and less likely that she'd be able to fit into their mix quickly enough to sing with them the following weekend.

Then a shadow crossed the window again. Reis shouted, "Cass is here!" and there was no turning back.

"I thought you chickened out," Jason said from the doorway.

He paired the words with a smile that set her heart pounding. After that morning, she was shaken by the nearness of him, by the way his hand brushed her back as she come into the building. She tensed, drawn to him even as a plane of awkwardness kept distance between them. "It took longer than I expected to get here."

"Did you bike?"

"No." She felt warmth creep up her neck and looked away, afraid she'd read disappointment in his face, afraid he'd see into her, see the fast beat of her heart. "So. How do we do this?"

The others shared a look before Jason answered, "I don't know, really. We never had anyone audition before."

"It's always been the four of us," Evie said. She played a chord. "Well, the three of us and Josie, who moved. Let's just hear what you've got. What song do you want, J?"