Chapter 11 Naomi
The community center rehearsal room smells like teenage dreams with a hint of body spray. I'm getting dizzy from the drums, the guitars, and the neon pants that scream anything but rock and roll that these kids calling themselves Phoenix Down are wearing.
I told myself I’d steer clear of bands altogether, especially high school ones.
They're all hype and no harmony. Yet here I am, caught in the whirlpool of this talent-show-prep madness. And at times, my volunteer badge feels more like a ball and chain around my neck. Not because I don’t enjoy chaperoning teenagers, but because it brings back the old memories of my own high school days, the days I watched Tyler Brady—full of ambition and ready to leave everything behind to chase his own dreams—slowly become what he is now.
This town seemed too small for him then just like it seems too small for him in the present.
"What do you think, Ms. Medina?" Kenny, the scrawny bleached-haired lead singer, shouts from the stage as the song comes to an end.
I glance at my scribbles on my clipboard about their stage presence—not that I have any right to tell these kids what to do—and give them an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"You think we’re ready for Battle of the Bands, Ms. Medina?" Kenny’s twin brother, Jamie, asks. He plucks some of his bass guitar strings like the showoff he is.
"I’d say the probability is high."
All four of them, including the drummer, Miranda, and her guitarist boyfriend, Asher, grin at me and exchange high-fives.
While they’re sharing the excitement, I check my phone.
I don’t know what possessed me to invite Tyler the other day.
Maybe a part of me was trying to prove him wrong, to sabotage him completely, to let him see that he never does what he says he will.
He promised he'd come by, but I'm not sure about him actually showing up.
With Tyler Brady, you never know. He has this stupid habit of disappearing on you.
The digital clock on my phone tells me he’s fifteen minutes late.
"Ms. Medina, do you think it’ll be better if we play that last part a little faster?" Miranda shouts over the chaos.
"I’d say we need to hear it again before we decide," I supply. "Why don’t we do another take and see?"
These kids are so full of energy, it’s almost painful.
They don’t care about my authority. They shouldn’t.
I’m just here to ensure they don’t drink, smoke, or damage school property.
With the exception of Asher, they’re all good kids from good families.
Asher’s parents have never been interested in his extracurricular activities.
He also had a couple of run-ins with some shady neighborhood kids, but the band seems to have given him some direction. Plus, Miranda is very supportive.
I check my phone again, feeling like the nerdy chaperone at a cool-kid party while they play the Paramore cover they’ve been rehearsing all afternoon.
"All right, Phoenix Down!" I say, clapping my hands to get their attention once the song ends. "Looking good. Let’s talk a little about stage presence and timing."
They all stop and stare, their instruments hanging awkwardly. And I feel like an alien life form they haven’t decided to accept yet.
"The key is to look like you know what you’re doing," I continue, pacing in front of them.
"No one else has to know that you’re making it up as you go.
" I glance at the wall clock. "The talent show is very soon, and we can only meet up to practice twice a week. That’s why we need to make every second count.
" I pause, taking a deep breath. "And someone tell me, please, what the heck is a Phoenix Down? I’ve always wondered. "
They all start explaining it to me simultaneously, talking over each other.
Miranda jumps up from her drum throne, her black hair falling into her eyes. "It’s a video game thing."
"It was anime first," Asher pipes up.
"They said there will be a movie," Kenny explains.
His twin brother grunts out something I can’t understand.
"I see." I nod. "So it’s an anime turned into a video game and possibly a movie in the near future."
"It’s a game character," Jamie finally says.
"Got ya."
"You don’t think it’s a good band name, Ms. Medina?" Kenny asks, his face suddenly serious.
"I think it’s a really cool name," I reassure him.
That seems to hit home, and they start chatting amongst themselves. I’m about to check my phone one more time when the door swings open.
All heads turn in the direction of the noise.
My heart starts pounding with an almost violent urgency at the sight of Tyler.
He walks in like he owns the place, a worn guitar case slung over one shoulder. He’s all messy hair and tattoos peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his T-shirt. The years haven’t done a thing to make him less infuriatingly attractive.
Oh no.
"Hey, guys!" he calls out, his voice booming and laid-back, like he’s done this a million times. "Rumor has it, you’re going to rock the Sageview Ridge talent show this year."
The effect is instant. The teenagers start buzzing like he just plugged them all into a socket.
"Oh my God, that’s Tyler Brady!" Miranda squeals, wide-eyed.
"No way!" Asher shouts as if he’s just seen Santa Claus walk in with a Fender instead of a sack of toys.
My heart does a little somersault, but I focus on keeping my cool. "Tyler is in town for a bit, so I asked him to come give you guys some pointers," I explain, like having a famous musician crash rehearsal is totally normal for a Tuesday.
"Not sure you need them," Tyler says, moving across the room. "I heard a little when I was outside. You’re already better than I was at your age." He sets his case down on the edge of the stage and pops the lid open.
My pulse stops for a moment.
Inside is that same old acoustic guitar that he used to play for me when we were in high school. That same Fender that I'd imagined a moment ago.
Now that gets the kids’ attention too.
"Wow!" Asher crouches down to touch the guitar’s body carefully with his index finger.
"Wanna try it out?" Tyler suggests.
"Can you play something for us?" Miranda asks.
"Yeah," Kenny agrees.
"You want me to play for you guys?" Tyler’s face shows bit of a mock surprise, as if he’s shocked by the request.
"Yeah," Jamie says. "Can you play some of The Deviant’s songs?"
For a second, Tyler’s face falls, but his composure is back almost immediately.
"Something from Saints & Sinners," Jamie requests.
"Umm, I don’t think so, guys," I try to shut it down. That entire album is outrageous. There’s not a single clean song. My parents would never have allowed me to listen to something like that at seventeen.
"He wasn’t on Saints & Sinners, dude." Kenny elbows his brother, looking a little appalled.
"That’s right." Tyler nods with a small smile on his face, but his eyes are telling an entirely different story. "I joined the band after. The first album we recorded together was Depravity.
"Please," Miranda pipes up from behind the drums.
"I don’t know…" Ty rakes his hand through his hair, glancing at me helplessly. Not that I can help him. He got himself into this predicament. He should get himself out. "In that case, we gotta go with the censored version," he supplies.
"It’s no fun like that," Kenny mumbles.
"Maybe play something from Amber," I suggest before one of the kids has a worse idea. It’s the only album that doesn’t have many profanities.
And it’s the last one The Deviant recorded together before going on indefinite hiatus.
Yes, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been secretly following Tyler’s career.
"Great choice," he says to no one in particular, but his blue eyes catch mine for a second. "What do you guys want to hear?"
Song titles pour at him from all angles. Finally, the kids settle on some obscure track I don't recognize.
He strums the opening chords, his fingers flying over the strings like they were made to do just that, and he sings in that rough, gravelly voice you sometimes hear in the backing tracks when you listen to the later material from The Deviant.
The rehearsal space goes silent except for Tyler's voice and guitar. It’s been years since I’ve seen him perform live like this, but damn if it doesn’t send goosebumps down my spine.
It’s like we’ve traveled back to the last time we were here together. The kids are mesmerized, but their eyes keep flickering between Tyler and me as if they sense the unspoken history between us.
For a moment, it's just the two of us again, the former high school sweethearts who thought they could leave Sageview Ridge far behind them.
He's got that same frown of concentration crossing his forehead that he had back then.
By the time he finishes the song, it's like a switch has been flipped in the room.
Tyler Brady, rockstar, is gone, replaced by Tyler Brady, my nemesis.
The kids clap when the song ends, then start asking him about various guitar playing techniques. Asher is the most curious one of the four.
Tyler starts showing the guitarist how to tweak his solo, adjusting his fingers on the frets and making it look like magic. They crowd around him, eating up every word.
"What’s it like being on stage with The Deviant?" Kenny asks, his eyes as big as vinyl records.
"Insane," Tyler says with a chuckle. "Like riding a rollercoaster without a seatbelt."
He’s so good at this. He comes alive when he talks about music. Same way he did all those years ago.
I stand back, feeling a mixture of pride and something like longing. His blue eyes meet mine for a split second, and I swear he knows exactly what's going on in my head.
I pretend to be really fascinated by my clipboard.
They pepper him with questions, more about his band and life than their music.
"Do you still talk to Justice Cross?"
"What’s the craziest party you’ve been to?"
"Is it true you guys are getting back together?"