The After Girls Read online

  The crowd stilled, and there was a moment of pretty silence. Max broke it.

  “Now we’re going to slow it down a bit,” he said, turning to her. “This one’s the first song that we ever wrote.”

  Sydney took a breath to steady herself. Here it was: Astrid’s favorite. It certainly shouldn’t be hard. She and Max had written it in a couple hours one night when they’d first started the band. It was quiet and slow, unlike most of the others. Simple rhythms; the chorus just the melodic coo of her fiddle. It had never been anybody’s favorite but Astrid’s. But they almost always squeezed it into the lineup just for her.

  Now, in the midst of the lights and the set and the crowd and the real, actual night, Sydney wished that she’d asked Max to leave it out. Astrid wasn’t here to hear it. She was far away, away from them, away from all that she’d loved, all that they’d loved together.

  But Max’s guitar was already strumming slow. In a few seconds, his voice rang deep.

  Spring left quickly; summer’s all around.

  Sydney leaned towards the mic.

  The sun shines brightly on the ground.

  Max took a quick breath, glanced over.

  You and I will swim through creeks.

  Syd trilled back, light, careless. Trying to sound that way, at least.

  Thirteen happy, pretty weeks.

  Sydney pulled back and Max kept strumming. The chorus was just her and her fiddle: slow, melodic. No words necessary.

  She pulled her bow across the strings, feeling it move, vibrate. Hearing it ring. This was harder, this playing quietly. She wished she could go back to the ones from before, angry and energetic and fast, but instead, she moved slowly, easing her bow back and forth, staying legato, dark, sad. Just like she was supposed to. Just like Astrid had liked.

  She held the last note until Max’s voice was back.

  Autumn leaves crunch beneath our feet.

  Sydney leaned forward again.

  Though we fight, you still seem sweet.

  Max looked right at her then.

  I don’t want to let you go.

  And for once, it wasn’t him that she thought of.

  Stay with me through winter’s cold.

  Sydney tugged on the bow, and it made a quiet, low moan. Back and forth. Up and down. Ella’s eyes caught hers and she knew that they were on the same page. She wished that Astrid could be there, too. She wished that the song didn’t have a different meaning for her now. She felt the heat rise up through her cheeks, and she couldn’t do this now, not during their first show, not in front of everyone. She had to show them that she was okay.

  She held back all she could, and Max went on.

  Murky snowdrifts, frosted windowpanes.

  She only had to get through this. They were almost done.

  Tell me why we had to change.

  Max’s voice got louder, right on cue.

  I wish I hadn’t let you go.

  Syd leaned close, sang almost in a whisper.

  Now we’re broken. Winter’s cold.

  She pulled back for her final notes. She moved into the upper octaves, but she still stayed soft. Climbing higher, her fiddle seemed to weep. She was almost done.

  Her eyes caught Ella’s once again, but she looked away as soon as she could. She willed herself to get through this without breaking down.

  In moments the fiddle solo was over. She let her arms fall. She leaned into the mic again. She and Max would sing the last two lines together.

  Every season, every day, I will hold you dear.

  Even though you’re far away, I will hold you dear.

  The strumming stopped, the crowd quiet for a minute, and before the applause even started, before they even knew it was over, she felt a tear tip over the edge.

  She wanted to run, she wanted to flee the stage; she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She hadn’t been able to cry since Astrid died, and now here they were, her first tears falling, right up on stage.

  Not now, she thought. Not now.

  But it was no use. She felt more tears coming, strong.

  Before she could move, the lights cut out. She was bathed in darkness. She couldn’t see a thing. She couldn’t help it, she let her shoulders fall as the sound of movement rung around her, the impatient yells of “What the hell?” from the crowd.

  She let them come; she let her body shake. She felt an arm around her shoulders, and when she turned she could barely make out Max’s face.

  A gruff voice rang out on the intercom. “We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please wait patiently, and do not try to leave.”

  Max’s arm squeezed her tight. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his hand down her arm. “You were perfect,” he said. “You were great.”

  And she felt his finger underneath her chin, tipping her face up to his. He pressed his lips to her lips, and she tasted the salt of her tears when she parted hers.

  He pulled back in a second, and he wiped his thumbs beneath her eyelids, along her cheeks. “I’m okay,” she said, turning towards the back, rushing to get the last bit of tears off her face.

  And then she heard the crackle, followed by a long buzz, and in a minute, the bright red lights were on her again. Carter looked at her, his eyes serious and sad, and mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  And she nodded, because she was. She felt a chill run down her spine as she realized that no one had even seen.

  Max leaned into the mic. “How’s that for a dramatic end?” he called with a swagger. “Stay put. We still got a couple more for you.”

  Before she knew it, he was strumming again.

  But she couldn’t help feeling that someone was looking out for her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ella was trying to pull herself together. River Deep’s set was done, Sydney was busy with Max, Ben was deep in conversation with Carter, and Jake hadn’t even shown up (not that she’d expected him to after her dramatic exit). Now it was just her and her thoughts.

  I miss you, too.

  All she wanted to do was go home.

  Ben turned to her and gave her a quick smile, the, I’m having a great time, I’m not ready to leave yet, smile. She briefly considered pulling him aside, telling him it was time to go, telling him what had happened. But she didn’t know how. She’d double-, triple-checked, but the message was gone. Like it had never even been there. How could she explain that? So she smiled back in spite of herself. His beer was already three-quarters gone. Maybe he’d be ready soon.

  There was an empty stool beside her, and she felt a pang in her stomach, because she could almost see Astrid sitting next to her, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. The two of them could have been talking now, Ella making up stories about the people around them, Astrid acting as the listening board.

  “That couple in the corner,” she’d say.

  “Which one?”

  “The blond with the boy who looks like he could be her brother.”

  “Maybe they are brother and sister.”

  Ella would laugh, smile. “They’re not.”

  “So what about them?”

  “She tried on six outfits before she settled on a dress that looks like my grandmother’s sofa. She showed her cheerleading friends each one of them, sending them pictures from her iPhone. Her favorite band is something awful like Coldplay or Dave Matthews. Her name’s generic yet uncommon — Debra.”

  Mainly she’d just listen, but sometimes Astrid would help out, too: “The guy asked her to come to The Grove, and she asked him if she’d need her hiking boots.”

  Laughter: “Not that she has any.”

  “Of course not.”

  Astrid would never let Ella get too far. “Maybe she’s cool,” she’d say with a shrug. “You can never know what people are really like.” That was one of the wonderful things about Astrid. She always managed to keep people good and honest. For the first time, Ella wondered if she’d ever been able to see how good and honest she was herself.
/>   They’d talk about the real things, too. Astrid was always good at advice: “What is going on with Sydney and Max?” Ella would ask. “Should we try to distract her?”

  Now, Ella glanced over to see Max leaning in towards Sydney, talking close. She couldn’t decide if it was bad or just harmless band bonding, or if it was even her place to give an opinion. And Astrid wasn’t here to give her advice.

  I miss you, too.

  Ella jumped when she heard a voice behind her. “This seat taken?”

  Startled, she turned around quickly, her elbow knocking over a half-empty glass on the bar.

  “Shit,” she said, as she saw Jake standing right in front of her, quickly grabbing a few napkins to sop up the mess. Stale beer ran down the side of her dress.

  “Here you go,” he said with a nerdy smile, handing her a stack.

  “Thanks,” she said, and she immediately started dabbing even though it was no use. She’d smell like beer for the rest of the night. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Besides helping you clean up?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure you invited me.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think you’d come. Especially after — ”

  “You walked out on me without an explanation?”

  “Sorry,” she stammered, even though she still wasn’t going to give one. She hoped that’s not why he’d come. “It’s late,” she said. “I just didn’t think you’d be here. The show started awhile ago.”

  Jake almost looked annoyed, but he gave her a grin. “Well you didn’t tell me when it started — or where it was. You booked it out of there before you got to those minor details.”

  “Oh,” she said, and she felt like an idiot. Hoping he would come when he had nothing to go on — when she’d given him every reason not to. And yet, he had. “So how did you know?” she asked.

  “The beauty of the Internet,” he said, flashing another smile. “You want a beer? Now that you’ve knocked the other one over.”

  “That wasn’t even mine — ” she started to say, but he was already flagging down the bartender.

  She glanced back at Ben while Jake ordered. He was fully turned towards Carter and hadn’t even noticed the spill — or her new friend.

  In minutes, a can was sitting in front of her. Sweating. Ice cold. Surprisingly appetizing. She grabbed it, taking something between a sip and a gulp.

  “Hey,” Jake said. “We didn’t clink. It’s bad luck.”

  “According to who … whom?” she said, correcting herself.

  “The entire world? Come on,” he lifted his can. “We have to toast to something.”

  Ella shrugged. “There hasn’t been a lot for me to toast to lately.”

  “Well,” he said. “Then we toast to each other. To new friends.”

  “Okay,” she said, even though it felt strange. Wrong, in a way. Lose one friend. Gain another. “To new friends.” They smashed their cans together so hard that beer splashed out the top. That finally got Ben’s attention.

  “Hey,” she said, catching his eyes and setting down her drink. “This is Jake. He’s working at the café now. He was Astrid’s cousin.”

  Ben stared at her for a moment. Then he looked back to Jake. He seemed surprised. He knew all of her friends, after all. He pretty much knew everyone in this room. “Ben,” he said, reaching out to shake Jake’s hand. “Ella’s boyfriend.” He said it as if it were a fact that couldn’t be contested. She’d have introduced him that way if he’d only given her a chance. “I didn’t know Astrid had family here.”

  “She didn’t,” Jake said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m in music school in Chicago. But it doesn’t start back until August. I was just going to spend the summer with my parents in West Virginia, but … well, you know.”

  Ben nodded. “Cool.” And then he just stood there. No, I’m sorry about your cousin. How’s it going so far? Instead, he turned away from Jake and looked right at Ella. “We’re going to get another round,” he said, nodding over to Carter and the crew. “You want me to get you anything?”

  “Jake just got me one,” she said, motioning to the beer in front of her.

  “Alright then,” Ben said. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, but he just turned back to the bar to order more. Ella sighed and took a sip of her beer. He was the one who’d barely paid attention to her all night and now he was the one who was mad. She turned towards Jake, who was politely looking at the stage, pretending not to notice.

  She racked her brain for something to say that wasn’t about Astrid. “Music school,” she finally stammered. “You never said anything about Chicago.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “I know. I just figured — ”

  “ — that I work at the 7-Eleven and live at home like a true West Virginian?”

  Ella laughed, looking at his thick glasses. She couldn’t explain to him that that’s about the last thing she’d thought. “No,” she said. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know you were older. I told you, Astrid never told me about you.”

  “I’m barely older,” he said. “A and I were only a year apart. I graduated last year.”

  Ella nodded. “Music school in Chicago. You must be a proper music snob then.”

  “Card carrying,” he said with a smile.

  “So you’re one of those kids who ‘goes to shows.’” She made the fake air quotes and then took another sip.

  “May I remind you that you invited me to a show. Perhaps you’re one of those kids as well.”

  “I go to Sydney’s,” she said.

  “Pretty sure that counts.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’ve never been much of a music person. I leave that to her.”

  “Oh come on, everyone’s a music person. Who do you like?”

  Ella raked through her musical repertoire, trying to find something that would sound at least mildly impressive. “The China Dolls,” she said, remembering a band that had come up on the Internet once that was decidedly not top-forty.

  “Nice,” he said. “Not a music person and the first band you name is like one of my favorites. You like The Black Rabbits?” he asked.

  “Uhh …”

  “They sound a lot like The China Dolls, but I like them better. They’re actually from North Carolina.” He smiled.

  She smiled back. “How did you decide on music?” she asked. It felt good to carry on a conversation. Like normal things could happen — even now.

  Jake shrugged. “I’m pretty good at math so I figured I could be an accountant and hate my life or compose music and probably be dirt-poor but maybe be a little happy … so long as I can eat,” he added. “It’s the thing I like. It’s hard to say no to that.”

  Ella nodded, taking another sip.

  “Do you know what you want to study next year?” he asked.

  Her heart beat faster, anxiously. No, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to think about it. She’d been thrilled about college a few weeks ago, and now she dreaded it. She almost wished she weren’t going at all.

  Ella had been convinced they’d all be together — she and Astrid both applied to State, the university down the street, Sydney would be at the community college in town until River Deep got their big break, and Ben had a football scholarship to one of the schools just an hour away. It was perfect.

  Even when Ella got in and A told her she was wait-listed, she was sure it would work out. They could room together and they could go to parties and pull all-nighters and do all the things two best friends would do.

  Despite what everyone said about losing touch with your high school friends when you got to college, they would be the ones to make it work. She’d been sure of it.

  But then everything had changed. Sure, Ben and Syd would still be around, but she’d be alone — no matter how many new friends she made — she’d be completely alone.

  She realized Jake was still looking at her — waiting for an answer.r />
  “Not really,” Ella said, holding back tears, because she knew that when she went to school in the fall, she’d only be reminded of what she’d lost — the space on the bleachers, the empty seat at the dining hall, the extra-long twin bed filled with someone who wasn’t — who could never be — Astrid.

  I miss you, too.

  Up onstage, the next band was doing sound checks, setting up their instruments.

  Jake took a long gulp and set his beer down. He shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out and let them hang at his sides, then shoved them back in again.

  “So, uh, are you okay?” he asked. “From before, I mean?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding quickly, even though she didn’t believe it. “I’m fine.”

  The boys on stage tapped at the mics. Feedback rang through the room. He was waiting for her to tell him more. She wasn’t going to.

  “How’s Grace,” she asked instead.

  Jake took a long sip. He stared at the guys on stage for a minute before answering. “Grace is Grace,” he said. “She does everything her way. This is no different.”

  Ella thought that she understood. Grace had always been unlike anyone but Grace. But she just couldn’t help but ask. “What do you mean?”

  Jake looked at her for a minute. Then he took another sip, looked back out in front of him. “I don’t know,” he said. “Like she keeps the door shut all the time. No one’s allowed to go in there at all.”

  “The door?”

  Jake gave her a look, like, Are you going to make me say it? and that was when it hit her, when she felt a shiver from head to toe. Astrid’s room. The bed where she’d lain her head not all that long ago. The room where Ella had slept over maybe a hundred times. The walls that they’d decorated together with cut-outs from Tiger Beat, then taken them down again when they’d gotten old enough to be embarrassed about it. God, that room.

  “Does she say why?” She felt her voice catch at the back of her throat, and damn it, she would not cry here in front of Jake, not when she was actually having a semi-pleasant conversation for the first time in days.

  Jake shrugged. “I guess she doesn’t want us messing anything up.”

  Ella waited a second before posing the next question. She tread carefully, afraid of throwing off the balance between them and ruining this new friendship before it had a chance to start. “But have you ever opened it, just to see?”