Harmonic Feedback - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Tara Kelly (ч. 3)

“Let’s go in anyway,” I answered, a shiver inching down my back. “We need to be sure.”

The four of us climbed out and walked toward an open window. The boards had been torn off, and a filthy sheet hung in their place.

Justin looked in all directions before peeking inside. “Hello?” he called. “I think I see someone.”

We followed him through the window. Bits of glass ripped the hem of my skirt, but I didn’t care.

Dim light revealed shredded floorboards and gouged walls. It smelled like rotting wood and piss. I had to breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging.

And then we saw it. A crumpled heap on the floor. Pale skin. Strands of purple hair.

Justin ran over to her, Roger cussed under his breath, and a small cry escaped from Kari. But I froze. My fingertips and toes went numb.

Roger ripped the sheet from the window to let in more light. Kari joined Justin and covered her mouth. I walked toward them slowly. Justin pulled a small flashlight from his pocket. He touched Naomi’s face, prying her eyes open and waving the light in them.

“Is she breathing?” Kari asked.

“Barely,” Justin said. He pressed his fingers against the inside of her wrist.

I knelt next to Naomi, my limbs shaking. She was lying on her back, one knee bent at an odd angle. Saliva dripped down her chin, and her lips were tinged blue under the neon light. I grabbed her hand. It was hot and clammy.

Justin pulled out his cell phone and dialed three numbers.

Kari squatted next to me, hiccuplike sounds coming from her throat. “Naomi…?” She touched her cheek. “She’s fucking burning up.”

Roger paced around us, talking fast. His words blurred together. I blocked them out, because they didn’t make sense. Naomi wasn’t going to die. She’d wake up and laugh at us. Tell us we were being ridiculous.

I squeezed her hand and brushed the damp hair off her forehead. “You can’t give up.”

“I just found my friend unconscious,” Justin said into the phone. “She’s burning up, her pulse is all over the place.” He listened for a few seconds, his eyes wide and furious. “I think she overdosed on speed, but I don’t know for sure. I just found her like this.” More seconds passed. “I don’t know!”

Kari cried into Naomi’s chest, begging her to wake up. “Please be okay,” she repeated over and over.

Their voices echoed around me. Too many words to process. I kept squeezing her hand, hoping she’d return the gesture. Nothing. I wiped the spit from her mouth with my sleeve and leaned toward her face. “You have to wake up so I can tell you what a dork I am. And you can laugh. You were the first person to give me a chance, and I’m sorry if I was mean to you at first. I thought you’d be like everyone else.” I stroked her hair. “But you aren’t like everyone else, Naomi. And someone will love you for who you are—I know they will. Because I love you.”

Justin and Roger yelled back and forth, trying to figure out the address.

Kari’s voice was muffled in her chest.

Justin checked her pulse again. “It’s still erratic.” He glanced at me and covered the phone. “They’re on their way. But I have to stay on the phone until they get here.”

A commotion erupted behind me. Someone yelled, and feet thudded against the floor. Roger and Scott wrestled each other near the window.

Justin tossed the phone at me and ran toward them. He pulled Scott off Roger and tried to force him to the ground. Scott was like a rabid animal, punching and shouting.

Everything in my stomach crept into my throat. I put the phone to my ear, trying to not throw up. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” the female voice asked.

“Drea.”

“Okay, Drea. Can you tell me what’s going on right now?”

“They’re fighting. My friend needs help. We can’t get her to wake up.”

“I know. We have an ambulance on the way. I need you to stay calm for me, okay? It’s the best way we can help your friend right now.”

The guys moved toward us, shuffling feet and swinging arms.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott hollered.

The voice on the phone kept saying my name. “Drea, I need you to tell me what you see. Who is fighting?”

I rocked back and forth, still clutching Naomi’s hand. “They won’t stop. Please make them stop.”

“Do they have weapons?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Kari grabbed the phone from me and started talking about Scott. The guys moved closer. Scott was fighting them to get to Naomi. I braced myself over her, preparing for impact. There was a loud thud. The floor shook beneath my knees. I glanced over to see Scott’s face a couple feet from mine. Justin and Roger pinned him to the ground, both struggling to keep him still.

“The cops are coming too,” Kari said, covering the phone.

“What did she take?” Justin asked Scott.

His face contorted, and his lips trembled. “She did a line before I left, and I took the rest with me. That’s it. She was fine.”

Justin leaned toward Scott’s ear, shoving his face harder into the floor. “What else did she have access to?”

“Nothing!” Scott’s eyes watered. He’d stopped fighting them. “I took everything with me because she doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. She was fine, man. She was fucking fine.”

Kari grabbed the flashlight, illuminating the ground near Naomi’s left hand. “Then what’s on the floor next to her?” she asked. A baggy filled with white powder was spilled a foot away—as if Naomi had dropped it when she fell.

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. “She must’ve found my stash. It was under the floorboards.”

Kari listened to Naomi’s chest. “I don’t hear anything,” she said into the phone. Mascara streamed down her cheeks. “What are we supposed to do?”

I kept Naomi’s limp hand in mine, telling her to get up. Telling her to fight.

More voices filled the room, and several people rushed at us. They were dressed in dark uniforms and carrying equipment. They yelled at me to move. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t let her go.

The room began to spin. Someone grabbed me from behind, prying my hand from Naomi’s.

“No pulse,” one of the paramedics said.

My head was against Justin’s chest. Police officers stood in front of us. Two of them talked to Scott. He sat on the floor, bawling like a baby. His words were distorted. Nothing made sense.

I tried to pull away, reaching for Naomi. I could see her pale hands between the boots of the paramedics. “She needs me!”

Justin’s breath hit my ear. He kept telling me to calm down—Naomi would fight this.

The paramedics scrambled, shouting things and passing equipment back and forth. One of them pushed on her chest. Justin tightened his grip on me.

Kari’s cries came from somewhere behind us. Roger sat with his face against his knees, his back shaking. Every second crawled by.

They carried Naomi off in a stretcher and loaded her into an ambulance. We followed them outside, but the police wouldn’t let us go. Sirens echoed down the street, taking her away.

The police asked for IDs and kept asking questions. Questions I couldn’t answer. Justin told them we’d found her like this. Over and over. They acted like they didn’t believe him.

Justin was led to a squad car and cuffed. All I could think about was Naomi. How lifeless her face looked.

A female police officer patted me down and shined a light in my eyes. She asked me if I’d smoked or ingested any illegal substances. I told her about my meds.

“What is your diagnosis?” she asked.

“Asperger’s and ADHD.”

She nodded and wrote something on a notepad. “What’s your relationship with Scott Reynolds?”

I scanned the area for him. He was on the ground in cuffs. More paramedics were checking him out. “I don’t have one. He’s Naomi’s boyfriend.”

She asked more of the same questions.

“How many times do you have to ask me? I already told you, goddamnit!”

“You can answer them at the station, if you’d like. Your choice.” Her voice was cold. Didn’t she know that I needed to be with my friend?

“Just answer them, Drea!” Justin called to me. “It’ll be okay.”

I took a deep breath and finished answering her. They pushed Scott into the back of a squad car. Kari and Roger were nearby somewhere. I could hear their voices at least.

Mom appeared at some point. She leaned against her car door, her face crumpled, fingers hovering over her mouth. Grandma stayed inside the car.

They finally let me go, saying they’d call me with more questions. I glanced over at Justin. He didn’t have the cuffs on anymore. His sister was talking to him.

Mom hugged me tight. I tried to tell her what happened. She said she knew and she’d take me to the hospital.

Justin walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I rested my head against his chest, closing my eyes. His heart was still racing.

“Are they letting you go?” I asked.

“Yeah. Do you want me to ride with you to the hospital?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand.

“I’m going to go with them,” he called to his sister.

Grandma glanced at us as we got into Mom’s car. I expected her to start yelling, but she didn’t say a word. Her mouth formed a straight line, and there was something different about her eyes. They were softer somehow.

Naomi’s dad was a crumpled ball outside the hospital entrance. One look at his shaking hands, and I knew. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Mom and Justin moved to either side of me as we approached him. Grandma trailed behind us, still silent.

“Tom?” Mom asked.

Naomi’s father looked up at us with trembling lips. I’d never seen a grown man look so frightened. “She’s gone. My little girl is gone.”

Mom knelt down and put a hand on his back. He buried his face in her shoulder, his entire body shuddering.

Justin wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “She’s inside. Isn’t she?”

He pulled away from Mom and shook his head at me. “She had a heart attack in the ambulance. They couldn’t”—he sucked in his breath—“they couldn’t revive her.”

I backed away from him, the world blurring around me. “No. Tell them to try again! She can’t be. She can’t.” My breath came out in short bursts.

Strong arms pulled me close, but I shoved them away. Someone screamed. A high-pitched whirlwind in my ears that wouldn’t let up. It was coming from my raw throat.

I collapsed on the cement, and Justin held me tight. His body shook against mine as he rocked me back and forth. Someone with a scratchy ring held my hand. Grandma.

Naomi couldn’t be dead. Not the girl with the big blue eyes and the hearty laugh. Her voice was too strong. She was going places. They must’ve made a mistake. She deserved another chance.

I deserved another chance.

THE SUN BROKE THROUGH the clouds the day of Naomi’s funeral. And the birds chirped. People mowed their lawns and walked their dogs. Like they didn’t know the world had lost someone special.

Naomi made it into the local newspaper yesterday. teen’s death breaks up major drug ring, the headline read. Scott faced many charges, including manslaughter. Justin said he’d probably ratted everyone out within five minutes.

Naomi’s official cause of death was a meth overdose. Justin said a dose that makes one person twitchy can kill another, depending on how their body reacts. Naomi probably didn’t know she’d taken too much.

I scanned the comments on the newspaper’s Web site. Some of the comments were nice, but others were cruel. None of these people knew Naomi, despite what they claimed.

I know the Quinns. Believe me, she comes from a messed-up gene pool. This isn’t surprising in the least.—R.L.So Bellingham lost another junkie. How is this newsworthy?—AnonLook at it this way. That’s one less shitty driver on the roads. Lord knows we got enough of them.—Linda M.What does driving have to do with anything, Linda? Naomi Quinn was the product of bad parenting. Nuff said.—Anon

I typed my own comment. I wanted them to know that she was a person. Not just some name to trash.Naomi Quinn befriended me a month ago when no one else would. No questions asked. She told me I was the coolest girl she’d ever met. She told me I was pretty. Things nobody ever said to me before. She had a singing voice that was full of life and passion. A voice that touched anyone privileged enough to hear it. No, she wasn’t what you would call normal or perfect. But who is?So keep making your ignorant comments. But just remember that Naomi was a real person. And our lives won’t be the same without her.

Grandma made her way down the stairs. She hadn’t said much to me the last few days. Justin and Mom hovered around me practically every minute, asking if I was okay.

“Are you ready to go?’ she asked.

I slumped in my chair. My legs felt like tree trunks. “I’ll never be ready.”

Grandma walked over to my bed and sat down, her eyes combing my face. “I had a brother once. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“His name was Paul. He was drafted in World War Two—got shipped to Japan. I was only four years old when he hugged me good-bye, but I remember everything he was wearing that day. Everything he said. He gave me his guitar—a Martin—and made me promise I’d play it. Even if he didn’t come back.”

“And he didn’t come back?”

She lowered her eyes to the floor. “No. He was a prisoner of war—almost made it out alive too. But his friend fell during the Bataan Death March. They’d make the soldiers walk for days without food or water and kill anyone who stopped. They caught Paul helping his friend up, and they killed him for it.”

“What happened to his friend?”

“He survived to tell the story. But even at that age, I remember feeling cheated. Paul was only eighteen. He had his whole life ahead of him, and I never got the chance to know him. It’s hard losing anyone, Andrea. And it’s really hard when they go before their time. So in that sense, no, you’ll never be ready. But it does get easier. You get to the point where you have no choice but to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and keep living.”

I couldn’t imagine that. Nothing felt real. I just wanted to wake up and see Naomi standing at the foot of my stairs again. Begging me to check out her drum set.

“Did you play his guitar?”

She smiled. “I did. Even did a little tour around the country with my sister. We dedicated every set to Paul.”

“Do you still have it, the guitar?”

She nodded. “It’s in my room, and you’re welcome to play it anytime you want. But it can’t leave this house. And it needs to be put back in my room whenever you’re done. Right where you found it.”

“Of course.” I studied her face for a few moments. “Did you hate Naomi?”

Grandma frowned and exhaled softly. “No. She was a troubled girl who needed discipline, but I never hated her. We talked a little when she helped me with the garage sale. She was very smart. The kind of person who could do anything if she put her mind to it.”

I looked at my hands. “People are saying horrible things about her online.”

“People will always talk. But you have her memory inside you. They can’t take that away from you.”

But memories fade, I wanted to say. What happens then?

We went back to Justin’s after the funeral. I didn’t know what was worse—the muted sobs or the overpowering scent of roses. They weren’t even yellow roses. I remembered the way Naomi’s eyes lit up when she talked about the yellow tulips Scott gave her. Yellow was her favorite.

Kari tried to speak, but she choked up halfway through. Roger stood apart from the rest of us, unmoving. And Naomi’s dad had this flat stare the entire time. He reminded me of a blank sheet of paper. Her mom was there too, with her hands over her face, crying.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Naomi couldn’t have been in that shiny box. It was too pristine for her. Too clean. She would’ve wanted frayed edges and bright colors. And laughter too. She would’ve hated the tears.

I fell back on Justin’s bed and rolled onto my side. He pressed his body against mine and wrapped his arm around me.

“How’re you doing?” he whispered.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I can’t sit around with wads of Kleenex like everyone else. Naomi wouldn’t want that—she’d probably tell me to laugh. But I can’t do that, either. It’s not normal. It’s not right.”

Justin stroked my arm, his breath warm against my ear. “Nothing feels right at first. And there isn’t a normal way to deal with this. If you need to laugh, do it.”

“If I’d been there Friday night, I could’ve talked to her.”

“What would you have said?”

“I could’ve told her everything I liked about her. How she was the first person to give me a chance in a really long time, how much I wanted us to stay friends. That’s why she got so mad at me and ran off with Scott. She thought I didn’t want her around anymore.”

Justin kissed my shoulder. “Naomi had one foot out the door before you even met her, Drea. Don’t blame yourself. You were a good friend to her.”

“Not good enough. I let her leave the day of the garage sale, Justin. And I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t I go after her?” I punched the pillow underneath me. “I could’ve stopped this. I know it.”

“I feel like I could’ve done more too. What? I have no idea. But I’ve been where she was. The more people tried to help me, the less I wanted it. With Naomi, I hoped that being there for her was enough. That our music was enough. But sometimes nothing is enough.”

Lizzie hopped up on the bed and rubbed her face against mine. Her green eyes looked sad and lost—just like me.

“I don’t understand why anyone would choose to need drugs. I’ve spent my entire life wishing I didn’t need them. I feel like a guinea pig all the time.” I ran my fingers through Lizzie’s soft fur. “I want to know who I am without them.”

Justin shifted against me. “I didn’t want my life. I mean—I didn’t want to die, but I wanted to be someone else. Someone who didn’t care about coming home to an empty house. Someone who didn’t feel alone all the time.”

“I feel alone a lot.”

He drew circles against my forearm. “But you aren’t. I’m here for you, and so is your family. You’ve got Lizzie too.”

The cat perked up at her name. Her entire body vibrated under my hand.

“I never told Naomi the truth.”

“I think she picked up on more than you thought. And she cared about you. A lot. She told me to take care of you in her letter.”

“What else did she say?”

He rolled off the bed and walked over to his computer desk. “Come over here and read it.”

I followed and sat in front of his computer. My stomach tensed, and I closed my eyes. It seemed too soon.

“Read it, Drea. I think it will make you feel better.”

My hand shook against the computer mouse. I opened my eyes, swallowing hard. My throat still felt scratchy. It began by telling him she was taking off with Scott, and that she was sorry.I’ve been planning this escape for a long time. I kept hoping things would get better. They didn’t.We don’t know each other that well, but I’m glad we got to talk that one night, especially about our dads. I hope yours comes around for you because he should be proud. You’ve got it together. I wish I had your strength, but I’m doing the only thing I know how to do. And that’s to get the hell out of here. No way is anyone going to lock me up. I’m a free spirit who belongs on the road.Take care of Drea for me. She’s the most real chick I’ve ever met, and you’re lucky to have her. But if you break her heart, well, let’s just say I’ll make a reappearance just to kick your ass. I know you won’t though. You’re a good guy.I’ll miss you guys and the music we made. You’re an amazing pianist. Don’t EVER stop!Until next time,Naomi

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Justin brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I miss her.”

“I know. I do too.” He stroked my hair, his voice cracking.

We held each other as the sunlight faded into dusk. Lizzie cuddled next to our feet. I told him about the day I moved in. How Naomi slobbered in my didgeridoo. He laughed and told me it sounded like something she’d do.

Then he talked about Italy and said that his grandma wasn’t much different from mine. But she’s a better cook.

“I want to take you there in the summer,” he said. “I have a couple musician friends there. We’ll jam. It’ll be cool.”

The idea made me smile, but I still couldn’t get Naomi out of my head. She would’ve really enjoyed a trip like that.

Going back to school was hard. A lot of people asked me about Naomi—they wanted every last detail. Kari eventually told them to fuck off.

Kari and Roger ate lunch with us nearly every day. Most of the time, we talked about music, or anything to fill the hole inside of us. I often looked at the fountain, expecting to see a flash of purple hair. And the locker room was so quiet without Naomi’s incessant teasing. There was nobody to talk about Justin’s butt or to insist that I lighten up. It was amazing how even the most annoying things about a person could be missed.

Roger offered to sing a couple tracks for us. But I wasn’t ready. The mic still belonged to Naomi. People continued to post comments about her voice. One of my favorite indie musicians even wrote me on MySpace, asking if he could work with the vocalist. When I told him what happened, he said he was sorry. Her voice would’ve taken her far, he said. Then he asked me if he could remix “Invisible.” He told me he’d dedicate it to her on his Web site. My heart hurt a little less that day.

It took a month for me to look at the videos we’d filmed of Naomi. Justin and I sat in front of my computer after we’d hooked up the camera. Neither one of us wanted to push play. But we had a project to complete. The world needed to see what we saw in her. A beautiful girl we’d never forget.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said, looking at the still of her face. I hated the thought of hearing her voice and seeing her smile but not being able to hug her. I couldn’t pause the tape and tell her not to leave. She’d be looking right at me, her eyes wide with some adventure in her head. And I’d see her on the floor of that house. Pale and crumpled.

“We have to try,” he said, moving my hand out of the way. “For Naomi.”

He pushed play and I held my breath.

Naomi walked down Railroad Avenue, her arms spread like she was planning on flying somewhere. She turned and faced us, her head tilting toward the sky. “I wish it would rain today.”

I exhaled slowly. Hearing her voice again warmed me inside.

“Are you only happy when it rains?” Justin asked her, referencing the Garbage song.

Naomi looked at him then, a smile easing across her face. “Maybe.” She spun around, approaching a grubby man with a guitar in his hand.

The guy’s dark eyes widened when she put a hand on his shoulder. And I knew exactly how he felt. Because I felt the same way when she noticed me.

“What’s your favorite thing to do in Bellingham?” she asked him.

“I’m a simple guy,” he said. “I just like to sit here, sing my songs, and hope someone will give me enough change for one of those bagels they sell across the street.”

She followed his gaze. “They’re pretty good, huh?”

“Even one will make my entire week. They got this jalapeño cream cheese that zings. Gives me the runs, though.” He let out a hoarse laugh.

Naomi dug into her pocket and handed him a few dollar bills. “Here—get some for your friends too. And go easy on the jalapeño!”

He thanked her profusely, and she continued down the street. I hadn’t noticed it when we were filming, but nearly every person stared at her as she passed. Most of them looked curious, even fascinated. She made a lot of people smile too. Everyone she approached—young or old. Maybe it was the purple hair or the fact that she was always humming a song under her breath. But people saw Naomi.

I wished she had watched this with us. Maybe she could’ve seen that she was only invisible to herself.

I saw the real Naomi when we began editing. Everything she never said was in her eyes. I didn’t know how it happened. I was cutting a clip of her singing “Invisible.” The camera zoomed in during these lines: She knows her place in this world. She can tear down its walls and still nobody knows her name. Her smile faded and her face tensed. She eyed the camera under lowered lashes, and her eyes glistened a little. Like she had a tremendous secret buried in her chest. Then she crinkled her brow, parting her lips for the next line. Yeah, she knows her place. But she’s not going down… without a fight. She stared directly at the lens then. Right through me, demanding my attention. I froze the frame and copied it to the time line. The video needed to end here. With that look—the anger and the determination.

And the music video for “Invisible” was born.

F riday, December 14My last entry of the semester. It almost feels too soon. You asked us to look at our first entry and write about what’s changed and what’s stayed the same since then. Well, a lot has happened since September 10.History is still boring, and I still have no idea what to write half the time. But Naomi’s words no longer fill the gaps in my mind. She was only in my life for a month, but I still miss her so much. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.I’ve spent my entire life trying to define this little thing called “normal.” Excuse my language, but what the hell is it? I’ll tell you what it’s not.1. It’s not smiling when you don’t mean it.Naomi wore that mask all the time, hoping someone would take it off and see how unhappy she really was. She didn’t know how to be honest with the world. A lot of people don’t. Not even me. I just thought I did because I didn’t buy into the whole fake and plastic thing. I convinced myself that being lonely was better than reaching out to people. Because they’d end up hurting me. So, I told them to go away. But what I really wanted more than anything was a friend. Someone to take me as I am and love me anyway.I only smile when I want to now. If people don’t like it, that’s tough. It’s who I am. Love me or leave me. Sure, I’ll say please and thank you. When I mean it. If the world calls this a disorder, let them. I call it me. Medication may clear my head some, it might help me be more patient and not freak out over things as much, but it doesn’t change who I am. And it never will.2. It’s not little white lies. A lie is still just that. A LIE.A lot of people think it’s acceptable or even right to tell someone they look nice when they don’t. To say you got stuck in traffic when you overslept. To pretend to like someone, even if you can’t stand the sight of them. But most people don’t think it’s okay to lie about the BIG things, which are subjective anyway. Well, I think that’s a really confusing way to live. If you like someone, you tell the truth because that, to me, is respect. If you hate someone, you tell them the truth because what do you have to lose?3. It’s not small talk.If you don’t care, don’t ask me how I am. Chances are, I don’t care how you are, either. And it’s not because I don’t respect you or I think you’re a loser. I just don’t know you well enough to care yet. So, let’s pass each other in silence and go on with our lives.And there you have it. Three socially acceptable things I’ve decided not to accept.Normal is an ideal. But it’s not reality. Reality is brutal, it’s beautiful, it’s every shade between black and white, and it’s magical. Yes, magical. Because every now and then, it turns nothing into something.Roger told me that last bit. Actually, it’s in his lyrics. He became the singer of M3 last week. Naomi wasn’t kidding. He can really sing! Kari wants to be our new drummer, so she’s been taking lessons. They’ll never replace Naomi, but they bring something new to the band, and I’m glad they want to be part of it. Even if we don’t always get along. Roger says stupid things sometimes, and Kari still thinks I’m kind of weird. But, like Justin says, we don’t all have to be best friends to make great music together.My mom and I are still living with Grandma, but Mom thinks we’ll be able to move out by the spring. Grandma’s meals are getting worse, and we still argue sometimes, mostly over my curfew. She doesn’t think I should be at Justin’s past eight! I think we’ve gotten a little closer, though. She lets me play her guitar and even said I could use her basement for band practice after we move out. But I still have to paint the walls back to white before I go.And last, but not least, it took a lot of lessons from Justin and patience from me, but I did it! I got my license yesterday! I can’t wait to drive by myself.I’m pretty happy with my life right now, but I still think about Naomi every day. I’d sell my entire guitar collection for one more day with her. And my computer too. I’d dance with her in the rain and tell her how much she meant to me. I don’t know if that could’ve saved her. But it would’ve put a smile on her face. A real one. I don’t know if there is an afterlife, but if there is, I hope she knows her place in this world. It’s inside everyone who knew her. Naomi Quinn was the kind of person nobody forgets.

“I guess you figured out how to write, after all.” Justin smiled after reading my journal.

We sat on his bed, listening to the rain outside. I’d copied my last entry to hang on my wall. It would be there whenever I doubted myself, telling me to never go down without a fight.

“Every now and then, I have something worthwhile to say.”

His lips inched toward mine. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No.”

He smirked. “It should be. Because—”

I smacked his arm. “That cost you a kiss.”

“Everything you say is worthwhile to me. Even when you don’t let me finish a sentence.” He leaned in to kiss me, and I closed my eyes. But a pillow hit my face instead.

“Jerk.” I grabbed another pillow and tickled him until he dropped his. “Rule number one: You might want to hold on to your weapon.”

He squinted at me, shaking his head. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

I held the pillow over my head, like I was going to bring it down on him. But I leaned in and kissed him instead.

“Sneaky,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He rolled off the bed and turned on some music. “Bus Stop” by the Hollies. Our song. It was perfect with the hiss of the rain. The wind filtered in, making me shiver. I nuzzled under his flannel sheets.

Justin slid into the bed and kissed me without another word. This felt different. More intense. He peeled my shirt off and brushed his fingers across my bare stomach. We’d almost had sex a few times. At least it felt close. But he always stopped before it went too far. It was harder every time, though, for both of us.

I took his shirt off and enjoyed the feeling of his hot skin against mine.

His breath was ragged in my ear. “I love you,” he said.

My heart beat faster. “What?”

He smiled. “You heard me.”

“I…” Love. I knew it was a big deal for him to say it, but what did it really mean?

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready to say it. I just wanted you to know.”

“I can top that. And be specific,” I said. “I love who you are. Because you accept me for who I am. You make me laugh, sometimes even at myself. And you make me happy.”

He grinned wider. “I can work with that.”

He brought his lips to mine, harder than before. Then he moved down, kissing places that made me shudder. Despite the cool wind blowing against my face, the room felt damp and hot.

I cupped his face. “Do you want to…”

“Yeah, I just need to…” His eyes traveled to the dresser next to us.

“Get something?” I bit my lip.

He rolled onto his back and opened the drawer, pulling out a condom. A short time later, he was kissing me again. His body melted into mine, and I felt dizzy. Like I was in a really good dream. It hurt some, but he was gentle and I saw those stars everyone talked about. For the first time, I felt connected to a rhythm that wasn’t my own.

I rested my head against his chest afterward. His heart was loud and steady in my ear. My legs felt like Jell-O. I wondered if that was normal.

A bright light flashed across his pale blue walls, followed by a loud rumble. Thunder.

“I miss thunderstorms,” Justin said softly. “It’s kind of weird to have one in December, though. Isn’t it?”

I thought of Naomi’s face. The way she glowed as lightning streaked across the sky that one summer afternoon. “We should go outside and dance,” I said.

His chest shook with laughter. “Yeah, right.”

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. Another flash illuminated the outline of his face. “I’m serious.”

“I think I’d rather cuddle in a warm and dry bed.”

I kissed his cheek. “Suit yourself.” Finding my clothes was quite the scavenger hunt in the dark, but I managed to get everything on in record time.

Justin sat up. The shadows of raindrops moved against his chest. “You’re really going out there?”

“There are certain moments in life you can’t miss. This is one of them.” I stopped by Justin’s bookshelf to give Lizzie a kiss on the head. It had become her favorite perch. “Wish me luck.”

I opened the door and ran into the freezing rain. Mist hovered around the rooftops, and the sky had a pink glow. The air was filled with a magic I couldn’t explain. But every nerve in my body buzzed with anticipation.

A bolt carved a jagged path above me, silencing the world for a few seconds. And then a roar pierced my ears.

Justin ran outside. He covered his head and squinted down at me. “So, this is your idea of fun?”

I grinned at his rumpled T-shirt. “Your shirt is on backward.”

He shook his head, pulling me close. Another flash illuminated his eyes. “We should go inside.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He didn’t get it. “It’s a present from Naomi.” I grabbed his hands and swayed my hips. Grace was something I’d never have, but I could still enjoy looking like a dork. “Dance with me.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his lips against my ear. “I can’t dance.”

“Neither can I.”

We moved together in our own clumsy way. Our slick hands made any kind of grip difficult. The thunder faded into the distance, and the rain lightened some. Justin touched his forehead to mine, a half smile on his face.

“Have you ever kissed someone in the rain?” I asked.

“No. Am I missing out?”

I ran my hands through his wet hair, pulling him close. “Definitely.”

Wind echoed through the clouds, resembling laughter every now and then. I imagined Naomi looking down at us, a wide grin across her face. She wouldn’t have let me miss this moment for the world.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’d like to start off by saying that this book is not about defining Asperger’s syndrome (AS) or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). It’s about one girl’s story and experience—which I hope everyone (whether on the autistic spectrum or not) can relate to. Each individual has a unique personality and set of challenges, and this is an ongoing theme in Harmonic Feedback, both with Drea and the people in her life.

Drea’s story was inspired by my own experiences living with ADHD and by my younger brother who is on the autistic spectrum. Both of us experienced difficulties with socialization as children and as teens. I recall teachers calling me “socially immature” and feeling like I was on the outside looking in. My brother experienced this to a larger degree, both academically and socially, but he has made amazing strides. He is now a twenty-one-year-old college student living on his own and, like many of us, battling a tough job market.

I’ve learned a lot from my brother and from others in my life who have been diagnosed with AS or an autistic spectrum disorder (ASD). They are among the most self-aware people I know, because most have been trying to compensate for their differences since childhood. Some display very mild symptoms. In fact, you probably wouldn’t know they’d been diagnosed with anything if they didn’t mention it. This describes Drea. She attends mainstream classes and exhibits only very mild symptoms, but she still has every-day frustrations and challenges, including questioning whether anything is “wrong” with her at all.

For more information, please check out a couple of my favorite Web sites:Wrong Planet (Asperger and Autism Community): www.wrongplanet.net;Dr. Tony Attwood, author of several books on Asperger’s syndrome: www.tonyattwood.com.au.

You can also find clinical information on Asperger’s syndrome, other autistic spectrum disorders, and ADHD at the following Web sites:ADHD: www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/ADHD/index.html;Autism Information Center: www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9