6. Opal
SIX
Opal
I lie in bed and stare at my ceiling. The little glow in the dark stars that Mamaw put there when I was six have faded now, their light just barely visible.
This has become my normal. Every night it seems even harder to fall asleep than the one before. I’ve never been a great sleeper, according to mom. I refused to take naps and wanted to stay up late even as a toddler. At night all the thoughts I’ve pushed out of my head during the day come rushing back, flooding my mind with anxiety and panic that makes sleep impossible.
Their voices ring in my ears, and the memory of their laughter makes my throat constrict.
“Ugly.”
“Weird girl.”
“Nobody likes you.”
I close my eyes and try to imagine something good. Sometimes I just lay here and pretend to dream, hoping that I’ll trick my mind into believing I’m asleep.
I picture the spring. The rays of light dancing off the water. Alex’s bright smile and the freckles on his tan skin. I imagine us skipping rocks again. I picture him taking his shirt off and throwing it on the ground before jumping in.
Ugh. I need to stop thinking about him. Ever since that day I feel like every other thought I have involves him. I roll over onto my left side and stare out my window. Streaks of light from the streetlamp at the end of our driveway pour into my room. No wonder I can never sleep, I really need some curtains.
Faint music floats through the air. Just for a few seconds at a time, a melody will come and then disappear again. Where the heck is that coming from? I know Mom and Mamaw are both sound asleep. They both went to bed hours ago.
I crawl out of bed and quietly walk over to my window. It’s a big window, almost as tall as me. I unlock it and slowly slide it open just a little bit. The sound of the music becomes a little bit louder.
Who would be playing music this late? I look over at the green digital numbers on my alarm clock that tells me it’s 12:35 AM.
The music stops, and I put my ear up against the screen to see if I can still hear it. After a minute or so it starts again. It sounds almost like…a guitar?
I don’t know what possesses me in that moment, but without even thinking about it I slide my feet into my slip-on sandals. My window opens up onto our front porch. I don’t know why, but I’ve never even thought about climbing out of it before now.
Peeking my head out of my room to make sure I’m really the only one awake, I see that the rest of the house is silent and dark. The only sound is my grandma’s light snores from across the hall. I softly shut my bedroom door and lock it, then I take a deep breath before slowly shoving my window open all the way.
I pop the wire screen off and quietly lay it flat on my carpet, then tiptoe down my porch steps and walk to the end of my driveway, where the music is even louder. In the dim light I can see the outline of someone sitting in the grass in the empty lot across the street from my house. I think someone was going to build a house there, but they never did so now it’s basically just a small grassy field that’s full of wildflowers every spring.
I walk over, quietly. This could be really stupid, what if it isn’t him? What if it’s some stranger that’s hoping to lure a young girl into his clutches by playing guitar at midnight? Probably not likely, but it could happen.
As I inch closer, I can tell that it’s definitely him by the curve of his jaw and the wavy blonde locks on his head.
“What are you doing?” I whisper shout.
He looks up at me with a terrified expression, his hands slipping from the neck of his guitar, and it makes a funny sound similar to a record scratching. “Fuck. You scared me, bluebird.” He slides the guitar strap off his neck and sets it on the ground.
The stupid nickname makes me grin, and so does the fact that he brazenly uses the F-word. “What are you doing out here so late?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be fast asleep by now?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He studies my eyes for a second. “You too?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He sighs and sets his guitar in the grass beside him.
“Wanna hang out?” I ask.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I’m not worried about that. I just snuck out all by myself, no bad influence needed.”
“What a rebel.” He smirks, and his perfect dimple appears. “So, why couldn’t you sleep?”
I blink a few times. No one’s ever asked me this question, I’ve never had to come up with an answer. “I just can’t. It’s always hard for me to fall asleep.”
His brow wrinkles, and it makes his face look even cuter than normal. “That sounds shitty. I stay up late on purpose, I can’t imagine wanting to sleep and not being able to.”
“Why do you stay up late?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I like nighttime. Everything is quiet, I can be alone with my thoughts.”
It’s weird, because even though I wish I could sleep better, I sort of feel the same. “I get that.”
He picks up the guitar again, fumbling with the strings. “Want me to play you something?”
“Sure,” I nod.
“Tell me your favorite song.”
“I don’t have one. Any song is good.”
He shoots me a skeptical look. “I know that isn’t true. Come on. Favorite artist?”
I shrug and a blush starts to creep up my neck. “It’s stupid, I don’t know.”
“No it isn’t.” His eyes are serious, honest. He always looks like that, like he wants me to know that he means what he says. It’s weird, I’m not used to guys acting that way.
“I like Owl City.” If he thought I was cool at all, that probably just did the trick in changing his mind.
“Oh yeah, I like Owl City, too.”
I look up at him, surprised. “Really? I kind of thought it was girly music, I figured you wouldn’t.”
“What makes music girly?” One of his brows is arched.
“Uh,” I sputter awkwardly, not knowing the answer. “I don’t know.”
He starts strumming a few chords, and I think it takes him a couple tries before he figures out what he’s doing. Then he starts humming along and I recognize the melody immediately.
After the intro, he starts singing the lyrics to Fireflies, but it’s a slowed down acoustic version that’s all his own. His honey smooth voice sends chills up my arms, and my mouth drops open involuntarily.
I already knew he was talented, but I had no idea he could sing like this . I sit there in shock until he finishes the song, enjoying every second of it. It feels like I’m listening to a professional musician, rather than a twelve year old kid with a beat up guitar that his brother gave him.
“Wow,” I say after the last note is played.
“Any good?”
“You’re amazing, Alex. How did you learn to play like that? Or sing like that?” I’m totally fangirling right now, but I don’t care. I’m truly impressed.
He looks down at the ground between us, and it’s too dark to tell but I think there may be a slight blush on his cheeks. “I don’t know. I just decided I wanted to play, so I learned.”
“You’re talented. You should start posting videos online or something. Who knows, maybe you could be the next big sensation.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I’m serious. You should.”
“Maybe someday,” he says before setting the guitar on the grass beside him.
I drop the subject, sensing that it’s making him nervous. It’s nearly October now, so the air has a slight chill to it. It’s nice, I can finally wear long sleeves at night without sweating like crazy.
“Do you ever miss Colorado?” I ask, feeling the need to fill the silence.
He takes a second to answer. “Yeah, all the time, but I’m getting used to this place.”
“What was it like there?”
“Colder. And mountainous. We lived in the city, so there was always something to do and there were a lot more people. There was always traffic, and it was noisier.”
“I don’t know if I’d like that. More people sounds kind of awful.”
He grins and then leans back onto his elbows, kicking out his legs in front of him. “I don’t know, it kind of seems like the more people that are around, the less they care about what you’re doing. You just blend into the crowd. Here it’s different, people are more nosy. I don’t like that.”
I definitely understand what he means. Some people in this town can be very nosy, and also judgmental. “Yeah, I get that. Do you think you’d ever move back?”
He shrugs, his lip twitching. “Maybe. I kind of want to go somewhere bigger though. Maybe L.A., or New York.”
“Wow,” I whisper. Part of me feels disappointed, and I’m not sure why. It’s not like I have any reason to think he’d want to stay here. Hell, we may not even be friends a year from now. But for some reason, I really wish he would stay. The thought of him moving across the country almost… hurts .
“What about you? You wanna stay here?”
“Not really,” I shake my head. “I want to leave when I go to college. I just…I have no idea where I’d go.”
“You’re going to college?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “Doesn’t everybody?”
He chuckles. “I don’t know, maybe.”
We sit in silence for a while, and at some point we both end up laying in the grass, looking up at the stars.
“Getting tired yet?” he asks.
I’m not, but I can tell he’s probably ready to go inside. I’m afraid to move, I feel like as soon as I leave this connection between us may go away. “Yeah, I guess I better try to get some sleep,” I lie.
“We should hang out again tomorrow,” he says as he pushes himself off the ground and dusts off his pants.
“Yeah?” My brow crinkles.
He nods, and then reaches his hand out for me to grab. I stare at it awkwardly for a second too long before grabbing it. What feels like an electric shock zaps my fingers. He lets go as soon as I’m on my feet, and I instantly miss his touch. I don’t know why.
He smirks as he picks up his guitar and slings it over his shoulder. “Goodnight, bluebird.”