The Sound of Us

Chapter Six. “Bad Day” by Daniel Powter

CHAPTER SIX

“Bad Day” by Daniel Powter

SKYE

“Skye?” Isla banged her fist on my bedroom door. “Are you going to come out? Do you want something to eat?”

“Leave me alone.” I pulled the pillow over my head to block out her voice. I wasn’t ready to talk about the disaster that had been my tryout. Not even with Iz.

“You’ve been in there since Monday afternoon,” she shouted. “Now, it’s Tuesday night. You haven’t even gone to pee. I learned in my biology class that not peeing for that long could kill you. The pee goes back into your blood stream, and you die of pee poisoning.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Do you really want to take the chance? Is that what you want on your tombstone? ‘Here lies Skye Jordan. Sister, daughter, friend. Too bad she didn’t pee.’”

“I went to the washroom when you were at school and when you were asleep.”

“What about water? You can only survive three days without water. You can go three weeks without food, so I won’t give you a hard time about that—”

“I have water, Iz. I’m not stupid.” I threw back the covers. Isla wasn’t going to leave me alone and neither was my bladder now that she was pouring water into some kind of container outside my door.

“I need to see you,” she said. “I can’t spend another night worrying. Come out and just let me make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine. I’ll come out. I’ll use the washroom and fill my water bottle and then you have to promise to leave me alone. Do not talk to me about the tryout. Do not try to console me or say anything nice. I just need to stay in bed until my mom books my flight home.” I yanked open the door and stumbled past Isla. I was still wearing my gym clothes, and my face, when I glanced in the washroom mirror, was puffy and red.

“I know you don’t want anything,” Isla said when I was done, “But I got your favorite high-protein matcha blueberry energy shake and a box of granola bars just in case you change your mind.” She followed me down the hallway, her voice tight with worry. “I left them in your room.”

“I don’t need to eat healthy anymore,” I grumbled. “I didn’t make the team, Iz. That’s the end of my basketball career. I can spend the rest of my life stuffing myself with pizza and cake, getting drunk, and hooking up with guys every night.”

Isla grimaced at my harsh tone. “To be fair, that doesn’t sound all bad. Do you want pizza? Cake? A bottle of vodka?”

“I want to crawl under my covers and indulge myself in a week-long self-pity sesh.” I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, crushing the life and breath out of me. I’d known my chances of getting back on the team were slim, but I hadn’t realized how much hope had sustained me.

Isla looked more lost and distressed than I’d ever seen her. “Should I call someone? Your mom? How about Dante? Haley said he came to the coffee shop just to see you. Are you two—?”

“No. Of course not. He’s a player, like that guy in the alley said. As soon as he saw two girls he knew, he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” I still couldn’t wrap my head around how badly I’d misjudged him. I’d been touched that he’d waited to walk me to the tryout, but it was clearly because he’d had nothing better to do with his time. Still, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from listening to his show and imagining what could have been as I fell asleep to his impeccably crafted playlists and the soothing sound of his deep voice.

“What can I do?” She followed me into the bedroom and threw herself on my bed. “I feel useless. You haven’t even told me what happened so I can get working on helping you fix things.”

She wasn’t going to leave me alone, so I told her. “I wasn’t ready. Two months of training camp just wasn’t long enough to get to the level I was at when they recruited me. I was slow on the court. I missed my free throws. I wasn’t responsive to the team. And when it came time for the jump shots, my leg didn’t work the way it should. I couldn’t push off properly and I landed badly. It was like my leg didn’t even belong to me. I fell on the last jump shot and I knew right away that it was all over. The coach confirmed it on my way out. At least she didn’t keep me waiting.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.” She wrapped me in a hug that was better than a pile of blankets.

“You’d better start looking for a new roommate,” I mumbled into her shoulder.

“Don’t give up just yet,” Isla said. “We’ll think of something.”

It was almost midnight after Isla and I finished talking. I was too wound up to sleep, so I pulled out my homework and tried to focus on my paper for my Fundamentals of Reporting class. I’d become interested in journalism when my tenth-grade English teacher recruited my class to start a school paper. I tried everything from music, sports, and news reporting to general interest pieces, but I knew I’d found my niche in my junior year when, as co-editor of the school paper, I inadvertently broke a major news story. It started off as a straightforward profile of the school’s new principal, but quickly turned into an in-depth investigation when I did a fact check and discovered that the university from which she claimed to have earned her master’s and doctorate degrees didn’t exist, nor did the high schools she had claimed to work at prior to joining us. We published the front-page story and one week later she resigned.

I knew then that I’d found what I wanted to do with my life if I couldn’t make it to the WNBA, and Havencrest, with its prestigious journalism program, was the perfect place to pursue that dream.

Unable to focus, I put away my work and grabbed my headphones before tuning in to WJPK to listen to Dante’s show. I was a big fan of indie radio and I’d listened to a wide variety of the programs during my first year, but my intense training schedule and early morning practices meant that I was always in bed way before midnight, so I’d never even looked at what they offered past 9 P.M.

“Good evening, Chicago.” Three words in that deep, low vibrato, and I was hot all over. I could almost feel Dante’s arm around my waist, his hard body pressed up against me, his lips taking mine in that hungry kiss in the alley. I still couldn’t understand what had happened outside the athletic center before my tryout. He’d gone from thoughtful and kind to cold and distant in a heartbeat. And then he’d left me for two girls at a picnic table without looking back.

He set the mood with Autograf’s “Nobody Knows (feat.WYNNE).” The downtempo electro beats and soulful vocals were perfect for late night listening, but it was the lyrics that really resonated with me, the yearning for something we’re not sure even exists.

“Tonight, is request night,” Dante said when the last notes of the song faded away . “Hit me with the reason you’re here with me tonight. Are you cramming for an exam? Just home from the bar and too wired to sleep? Or are you missing someone tonight? One word. One feeling. As always, your messages are anonymous. Your secrets are safe with me.”

I didn’t care about the music he was going to play. I would have been happy to listen to him read his shopping list, sports scores, or even the bus schedule. There was something conspiratorial and intimate about listening to that honeyed voice alone in the darkness. Before I could stop myself, I typed the word “Fear” and hit SEND.

Fear had defined my life ever since I’d lost my parents when I was three years old. Fear of footsteps, creaking doors, and shadows in the darkness of the many foster homes I was shuffled through before I was adopted. Then it was the fear of disappointing my new parents and being sent back to foster care.

After the accident, I went through a new set of fears: never being able to walk again, play basketball, or make my father’s dream come true. I’d been afraid to leave the safety of the hospital, and then afraid to leave home to return to school. But sleep was the worst fear of all. The accident still haunted me. I was afraid to sleep because of the nightmares, and afraid to be awake because some days the crushing guilt over my father’s death made it difficult to go on. Now, I’d failed him, and I was afraid for my future.

From the first few notes of the mellow and pretty guitar line from Zach Williams’s “Fear is a Liar,” I knew he’d chosen my word. The song isn’t exactly upbeat, but it reminds us that things are going to be okay.

“ Tonight is for everyone who’s feeling afraid,” Dante said over the music. “Whether it’s monsters in the dark, fear of failure, or fear of loss, I’m here for you tonight .”

I felt those words in my chest, in my heart, like strong arms giving me a hug. I lay back and fell into the power of the music, drowning my heartache in song.

My phone dinged and I checked the screen. Dante had responded to my anonymous message.

“Are you safe? Should I call 911?”

My heart squeezed the tiniest bit. He hadn’t lied when he said he was there for his listeners. I considered telling him it was me, but I didn’t want him to think I was just another groupie who was so obsessed she’d tracked him down on the air, especially after the way we’d parted. Anonymity gave me the freedom to just be me.

“Im ok. Tx for asking.”

Zach Williams faded into Julia Brennan’s “Inner Demons,” and I closed my eyes. For the first time in over a year, I didn’t hear a shout of fear, the squeal of tires, or the shatter of glass. I didn’t think about the past and I didn’t worry about the future.

Instead, I sank into the voice that wrapped me in warmth and carried me away.