Chapter Seven. Main Character Energy
Chapter Seven
Main Character Energy
Call it cliché, but I feel like I’m having my Main Character Moment as I speed across the bridge linking mainland Seattle to Mercer Island the next morning.
How else could I describe it? I’m driving to a pop star’s house at the crack of dawn to accompany him on tour, with a not-even-slightly-legally-binding Post-it note as the only evidence of our arrangement. It’s a scene right out of a rom-com.
My dashboard reads 4:42 a.m. I catch sight of all the private docks lining the backyard beaches. Above us, the sky lightens to a dusty blue with purple streaks as the morning sun glints off the water.
“You’ll always love me, right? Even though I’ve gone off the deep end?” I glance at Ginger through my rearview mirror. She gives me the evil eye, which isn’t even slightly evil, since she’s the dog equivalent of cotton candy.
I turn on the radio and flip to the Local Seattle Musicians channel. I crank the volume and move to the beat of a heavy metal song that definitely doesn’t fit the vibe of an early-morning commute.
Minutes away from the Songs’ house, the radio host says something I interpret as a bunch of garbling noises. I catch the tail end: “… This is ‘Daydreamin’ of You’ by DAYDREAM!”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’ve refused to listen to their music on principle, but seeing as I caved and accepted Felix’s offer, there’s not a lot of principle left to stand on.
Soon, singing blasts through my speakers.
I try to decipher the lyrics, but the overlapping voices make it nearly impossible.
The only part I understand is “can’t stop daydreamin’ ’bout you” being sung over and over.
The song ends right as I park across the street from the Song residence.
Mrs. Song is standing outside their opulent home, her mouth moving rapidly as she cups her son’s cheek; Ava clings to her brother. Mr. Song silently observes, several steps away. His brows are twisted into another taut frown, mouth pressed into a line.
I unbuckle Ginger, grab the suitcase and backpack, and cross the street.
Ava lights up as I approach. “You’re teaching him? True biz?” she asks, like she can’t believe I said yes. (Not that I can blame her for being shocked…)
“True biz,” I reply.
Felix taps her shoulder and scrunches his face as he considers his signs. “I’ll … learn … sign. I’ll try … hard … now. Promise.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think his clumsy signing was oddly charming. Almost.
Felix kneels on the driveway and wraps Ava in a tight hug. “I’ll be a better brother. Pinkie swear.” He offers an outstretched finger that she eagerly catches with her own. “I won’t let you down again.”
She beams from ear to ear and plants a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best brother. I love you so much,” she signs. Mrs. Song interprets so he can fully understand Ava’s sentiments.
He forms the ubiquitous “I love you” sign but spins his index finger, “I’ll always love you.”
Okay, that was kind of sweet. Slightly. When he stands up, I hurriedly look away.
I turn to Mrs. Song and hand her my car keys. “When my sister tutors on Saturday, you’ll give her my keys, right?” I confirm the plan I sent last night.
“Yes. We’ll miss you!” She gives me a hug.
On instinct, I tense up. I can’t remember the last time my mom hugged me.
Years ago, probably. The maternal warmth she extends to my sister is always cold by the time it gets to me.
As foreign as Mrs. Song’s hug feels, it’s also loving.
Motherly. I find myself sinking into it, but she releases me as Felix taps my shoulder.
“Airplane now,” he signs, eyes bright like a little kid.
Mrs. Song and Ava both drag him into another embrace; Mr. Song offers him a curt nod and nothing else. I kneel and change Ginger into her pink service dog vest that coincidentally matches my hair.
I boop her nose before straightening. Felix smiles and waves an ASL letter “U” in the air. “Ready?” he asks out loud.
I cross my middle finger over my index, an “R,” and shake it, “Ready.”
“See, I was close, though. Progress!”
He grabs my suitcase and his GUCCI duffel bag and trots toward the black SUV parked in front of the house. Sunglasses opens the door, lets him inside, then puts the bags in the far back.
Once we’re on the road, Felix turns to me with an inquisitive look. “Did you get into Harvard?” he asks, motioning to my red crop top that has HARVARD printed on it.
The way he asks it so casually makes me unexpectedly self-conscious. Of course the first thing that would occur to him is that I have the means to attend an Ivy League. That’s his reality. Really, I bought this shirt for four dollars at Goodwill.
I button the gray-and-black flannel I’m wearing on top of the shirt, hiding the logo. “Um. No,” I squeak out.
The car goes quiet. Through my peripheral vision, I catch Felix staring at me. When I look his way, he pretends to be scrolling through his phone, but his screen is turned off. What a dork. Finally, as Sunglasses gets on the bridge connecting to Seattle, I break the silence.
“What are your bandmates like?”
Committed to his casual act, he cocks his head toward me like he didn’t catch what I said. He presses his phone’s Power button to “turn it off” but actually turns it on. His lockscreen is him and Ava, pre-fame days. I snort as the tips of his ears tint red.
“Your bandmates,” I repeat. “What are they like?”
“Ah. They’re…” His face scrunches in deep thought. “Er … nice.”
“Usually when people are nice, it doesn’t take thirty seconds to say it.”
The corners of his rosebud lips tip upward. “They’re … a lot. Especially as roommates. You’ll like ’em, though. They’re cool.”
While Sunglasses parks at the airport, Felix pulls a black hoodie over his purple-and-white-striped sweater, throws on a pair of sunglasses, and dons a black surgical face mask.
“Fair warning,” he says, turning toward me, “we’re gonna have to move quickly.”
I don’t have a chance to reply before Sunglasses ushers us out. The pandemonium hits me immediately—flashing cameras and an indecipherable wall of sound that makes my ears buzz. With assistance from police officers, we’re rushed to a first-class lounge.
As I perch myself on a chair, clutching my backpack like a lifeline, Felix sheds his hoodie, glasses, and mask.
He grabs a green juice from one of the mini fridges, then hesitates.
His gaze shifts to me, and without a word, he picks up a cold brew and hands it over.
He sinks into the leather couch opposite me like this is just another day in the life. For him, I guess it is.
Still, he pauses mid-sip. “That was a lot. I’m sorry.”
I glance at the coffee in my hands, the chill grounding me. “Fans even showed up to the Deaf Center. That’s … dedication.”
He smiles faintly. “It can be overwhelming, but their hearts are in the right place.”
While we wait, I hand Felix the ASL grammar study guide I brought him. “Some of our lessons will be structured around chapters in this book, so you’ll need to read it,” I explain.
He runs his fingers along the cover before slowly turning his head toward me; his Adam’s apple dips as he gulps. “Are you sure? I’m not really, er, a book person.”
“Is this what you being ‘committed’ to learning ASL looks like? Making more excuses for not doing homework?”
It comes out harsher than intended.
His brows and lips tug into a weary frown. “It’s not an excuse. I…” He hesitates, nervously messing with the hem of his sweater. “Never mind. I’ll read it.”
“Good,” I say. “Our first lesson is based around chapter one, so read that on the plane.”
“Actually, I was hoping we could practice some key signs and phrases on the flight,” he admits.
I like my lessons to be very structured, but this situation is unique. The whole point of me being here is to teach him whenever he has time. We should use this flight to our benefit. “Okay. But you still have to read the book. No cop-outs.”
As promised, for part of the flight, I teach him some basic signs and phrases. During the second half, he reads while I tweak our lesson plans.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him intensely studying the book. His index finger traces each word, and he silently mouths them as he reads, concentration painted across his features. Good! He’s focusing.
Soon enough, we’ve landed and Felix puts his sunglasses and mask back on.
The instant we disembark, screams and cheers fill the terminal.
There are double the number of police officers, and they do crowd control as Sunglasses guides Felix and me through the airport.
I stumble when the crowd jostles us and nearly fall behind, but Felix grabs my hand and pulls me back to him.
I trade his hand for the strap on his GUCCI bag and grip it until we make it to another SUV.
I exhale a long breath as Sunglasses starts to drive. After an hour spent stuck in traffic, we park in front of a luxury apartment building. Felix steps out and waits for me.
I struggle to slide across the bench with Ginger at my feet. I peer out my window and see cars whizzing by, making his side my only exit.
“Need help?” he signs.
“Yes. Thank you,” I lower a flat hand from my chin.
“C’mere, dog.” He timidly pats his leg. Ginger doesn’t budge. She looks at me, and I could swear she’s judging him. Valid.
“Hold on. She’s trained better than to obey random people while she’s working,” I explain. “Okay! Go.” I say her release word, and Felix leans away as she jumps out. “Are you scared of dogs?” I ask after getting out.
“I’m a cat person. They’re smarter.”
“Then why can’t they be service animals?”
“Because humans serve cats. They keep ya humble,” he jokes as the building’s doorman lets us in.
“Pfft.” I laugh. “Yeah, I get real humble vibes from you.”
“I never said I have a cat.”
We load into the elevator with Sunglasses, and Felix presses the button for the top floor. Oh god, they live in a penthouse, don’t they?