“Ava!” My sister’s voice, predictably grating, sliced through the quiet of my room.
I rolled over, sending Melanie a glare as she barged in. She seemed to operate under the delusion that I didn’t actively dislike her presence, a misconception she stubbornly clung to today.
This is what we Hayes girls do. We fight, we argue, and at the end of the day… she’s still adopted. The thought, unbidden, surfaced as she stood there, radiating teenage annoyance.
“What do you want?” I asked, my tone laced with irritation. Melanie dramatically flopped onto my bed beside me.
“I have something I want to show you.” She pulled out her phone, a smug look on her face.
I covered my face with a pillow, praying for her swift disappearance. Days like these made me fantasize about Hagrid arriving at my door, whisking me away to a distant land far removed from bothersome little sisters. Maybe then I could finally confess my undying love to Fred and save him from whatever fate awaited him…
“It’s really cool, I swear,” she promised, attempting to shove the phone screen into my face.
“Your definition of ‘cool’ and mine are galaxies apart,” I said, utterly uninterested.
She continued to plead, poking me relentlessly.
“Avalon, please?” She begged, stretching out the syllables.
I’m notoriously gullible, and I know my kids will exploit it one day. After five minutes of arguing, I relented and finally turned my attention to the screen. It displayed a concert, a sea of faces gathered before a stage, but the sound was muted.
“Okay… and?” I asked, looking back at Melanie with a bored expression. The video quality wasn’t even that good. Melanie rolled her eyes and cranked up the volume.
Loud screams erupted, a chorus of voices chanting a name I couldn’t decipher. I blamed it partly on the fact that I was deaf in one ear. The stage was empty save for a man seated before a piano, playing a haunting melody. He had fiery red hair and a smile that tugged at something within me.
He began to sing, his fingers dancing across the keys with effortless precision.
My jaw dropped.
“Just wait until Billie comes on stage,” Melanie muttered, her eyes glued to the screen.
A few minutes passed, the redhead’s song fading into silence.
And if the screaming earlier was bad…
I’d braced myself for a lanky boy with a screamo voice, but I was horribly mistaken. The moment the girl stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted like a volcano.
The first thing I noticed was her hair—bright, electric blue—and matching eyes. Her clothes were baggy, bordering on oversized, but I’m hardly one to judge fashion sense, considering my own questionable taste. She strolled to center stage and waved, a sweet, disarming gesture.
“Hello.” She greeted.
She moved closer to the fans, hands reaching out to touch her. She simply smiled, bouncing on her toes like a toddler. Something about her stage presence intrigued me. She was light, graceful, her smile welcoming, and I found myself giggling as she danced.
I barely had time to enjoy her entrance when Melanie skipped ahead in the recording. The girl was now seated on a stool beside the redhead, microphone in hand, singing a song I recognized.
“I’ve been watching you for some time.”
Wait, she *wrote* that?
I heard it on the radio occasionally, considered doing a cover, but never found the time.
Once I recovered from the embarrassment, I allowed myself to truly enjoy the song, and a few seconds later, I realized I was crying. Music these days was almost impossible to relate to.
The intimate moment was interrupted by a horrific noise.
Laughter.
A raucous, grating laugh that sounded like an angry raccoon on crack.
I looked beside me to see Melanie doubling over, clutching her chest as she wheezed.
“Oh my god—you’re crying? You actually cried? Damn, I thought *I* was the baby,” she gasped. I scowled, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at her face.
“Ow, Ava!” She complained, clutching her nose.
“Get out of my room,” I ordered, pointing at the door.
“Bitch,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she exited with a huff.
As soon as she slammed the door behind her, curiosity overwhelmed me. What kind of person was this girl—Billie? I did what any sane person would do.
I Googled her.
And if that wasn’t crazy enough, I spent the entire night listening to her songs on replay.
I was addicted.
-------------------------------------
I peeled my eyes open, adjusting to the invasive sunlight. I checked my notifications.
156 new messages.
What the hell?
It was nearly two in the morning.
I opened the messages app to find the group chat flooded with notifications. It seemed to be some nonsense about calling each other potatoes. As much as I would have loved to join the drama, my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light so I shut my phone off and closed my eyes again.
An idea popped into my head, jolting me awake. I reluctantly hopped out of bed and grabbed my guitar, tuning it before practicing a sequence.
Once I got it down, I pulled out my phone and hit record.
I smiled and waved at the camera before beginning the cover.
“Sittin’ all alone.”