says about his clothes; I think Hunter looks cute in his baggy jeans, Chuck Taylors, and red shirt. I think his shirt says something about crabs on it, but when he slips the strap of his guitar over his head, the guitar covers the shirt. Plus, he looks really, really good holding the guitar.
“This is the song he played for you?” Darcy asks me.
I told Darcy and Aviva all about the universe bringing me and Hunter together in the band room.
“Yeah. He played part of it for me, and I helped him with the chorus.”
“You wrote it
together
?” Darcy asks. “You’re, like, a musical power couple!”
“You wrote it together?” Aviva repeats, and starts scribbling in her notebook.
“Stop!” I tell her. “Don’t write that! I just gave him some ideas. He wrote it himself. I haven’t even heard the words yet.”
“The melody was a collaboration with celebrated Julius High School flautist Kelly Robbins….” Aviva narrates as she writes.
“Stop it!” I say, and look back to the stage.
“Hey,” Hunter says into the microphone.
Then he squints into the audience again.
Can he see me? Or are the lights too bright?
He sort of waves at the audience, and Aviva whispers, “Awkward wave,” and makes a note on her notepad.
I snatch her pen out of her hand.
“Okay, so, uh, thanks for being here and, uh, paying five bucks,” Hunter says into the microphone. “Hopefully we, um, cure that disease. So! Here’s my song. And it doesn’t have a name, so…”
I’m not sure what other people expect from Hunter. I mean, no one’s ever heard him sing before. So when he starts playing, I get nervous for him. I actually close my eyes and hold my breath for the first few measures of him strumming the guitar. Then he starts to sing.
Sure, of course, terrain is rough
My aching arms are not enough
You’re the healer, I’m the holder,
But the world turns darker, colder
I open my eyes and smile. He can sing. And he can write, too! The lyrics are so… sweet. And smart. This is a real song. When I hear the chords leading into the chorus, I think,
I helped him write this!
I would never let Aviva print it in the newspaper, but I did help.
You’re the soft place that I fall
After all
Every everyday disaster
The days of running farther, faster
Fall down here with me
As he moves into the second verse, Hunter seems more comfortable onstage.
You know my shape, and let me sink
And see my strength, and give me lift
And they don’t know, no, they don’t see
The me when you’re alone with me
As soon as the song ends, Darcy turns to me, fixes her blue eyes on me, and says, “Oh. My. God.”
Around us, everyone is clapping and the sophomore girls next to me are saying, “Aw!” In the aisle near us, Damian is cheering and Derek is yelling, “Huntro! Huntro!” in his hoarse voice. The seniors in the front row stand up to give Hunter a standing ovation, and I stand, too, partly because Hunter deserves it and partly because they’re blocking my view.
Aviva whips out her digital camera, scurries down the aisle, and crouches next to the orchestra pit to point her camera up at Hunter. He does another awkward-yet-adorable wave and then walks offstage. Even though his head is down, I can tell he’s still smiling.
“He’s good, right?” I say to Darcy when I sit down.
She doesn’t even answer. She turns to face me and grips the armrest between us with both of her hands.
“That song was about you!” she says.
“What?”
“Did you hear the lyrics?” Darcy says. “That thingabout giving him strength or whatever… You’re the one who realized he could sing. And you gave him strength by telling him about the Open-Mic Night.
‘
When you’re alone with me…’
You helped him write when you guys were alone in the band room. And the chorus! I mean, ‘
You’re the soft place that I fall….
’ He’s talking about someone he’s really comfortable with. That’s what the whole thing is about. And you’re
“This is the song he played for you?” Darcy asks me.
I told Darcy and Aviva all about the universe bringing me and Hunter together in the band room.
“Yeah. He played part of it for me, and I helped him with the chorus.”
“You wrote it
together
?” Darcy asks. “You’re, like, a musical power couple!”
“You wrote it together?” Aviva repeats, and starts scribbling in her notebook.
“Stop!” I tell her. “Don’t write that! I just gave him some ideas. He wrote it himself. I haven’t even heard the words yet.”
“The melody was a collaboration with celebrated Julius High School flautist Kelly Robbins….” Aviva narrates as she writes.
“Stop it!” I say, and look back to the stage.
“Hey,” Hunter says into the microphone.
Then he squints into the audience again.
Can he see me? Or are the lights too bright?
He sort of waves at the audience, and Aviva whispers, “Awkward wave,” and makes a note on her notepad.
I snatch her pen out of her hand.
“Okay, so, uh, thanks for being here and, uh, paying five bucks,” Hunter says into the microphone. “Hopefully we, um, cure that disease. So! Here’s my song. And it doesn’t have a name, so…”
I’m not sure what other people expect from Hunter. I mean, no one’s ever heard him sing before. So when he starts playing, I get nervous for him. I actually close my eyes and hold my breath for the first few measures of him strumming the guitar. Then he starts to sing.
Sure, of course, terrain is rough
My aching arms are not enough
You’re the healer, I’m the holder,
But the world turns darker, colder
I open my eyes and smile. He can sing. And he can write, too! The lyrics are so… sweet. And smart. This is a real song. When I hear the chords leading into the chorus, I think,
I helped him write this!
I would never let Aviva print it in the newspaper, but I did help.
You’re the soft place that I fall
After all
Every everyday disaster
The days of running farther, faster
Fall down here with me
As he moves into the second verse, Hunter seems more comfortable onstage.
You know my shape, and let me sink
And see my strength, and give me lift
And they don’t know, no, they don’t see
The me when you’re alone with me
As soon as the song ends, Darcy turns to me, fixes her blue eyes on me, and says, “Oh. My. God.”
Around us, everyone is clapping and the sophomore girls next to me are saying, “Aw!” In the aisle near us, Damian is cheering and Derek is yelling, “Huntro! Huntro!” in his hoarse voice. The seniors in the front row stand up to give Hunter a standing ovation, and I stand, too, partly because Hunter deserves it and partly because they’re blocking my view.
Aviva whips out her digital camera, scurries down the aisle, and crouches next to the orchestra pit to point her camera up at Hunter. He does another awkward-yet-adorable wave and then walks offstage. Even though his head is down, I can tell he’s still smiling.
“He’s good, right?” I say to Darcy when I sit down.
She doesn’t even answer. She turns to face me and grips the armrest between us with both of her hands.
“That song was about you!” she says.
“What?”
“Did you hear the lyrics?” Darcy says. “That thingabout giving him strength or whatever… You’re the one who realized he could sing. And you gave him strength by telling him about the Open-Mic Night.
‘
When you’re alone with me…’
You helped him write when you guys were alone in the band room. And the chorus! I mean, ‘
You’re the soft place that I fall….
’ He’s talking about someone he’s really comfortable with. That’s what the whole thing is about. And you’re
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