Page 12 of Behind the Bars

“What’s that?” Ireplied.

“I think you had a good day today,” she told me. “And anything that helps you have a good day is fine byme.”

“But, Mom, you don’t know what this girl is like. She walks around with her makeup and designer bags and—” Katie started, but Mom shut her down with a calm hand raised in theair.

“I’m sorry, Katie, did you just judge someone based on their possessions?” Mom questioned, her stare growing stern. “Because I’m pretty sure judging someone based on what they have is just as awful as judging someone for what they don’t have. How would you like to be judged for your non-designerbags?”

Katie grumbled and lowered her head. “Sorry,Mom.”

“Look, I get it. You love your brother and don’t want him to get hurt, but you’re not always going to be around to protect him. He has to make his own choices, and I think that’s all there is to say aboutit.”

Katie apologized again then went back to eating, and I did my best to hold my smileinside.

I loved when Queen Mom overruled PrincessKatie.

And I kind of loved having a good day,too.

Chapter Four

Jasmine

Jasmine

When Saturday night came around,I dreaded going to Todd’s party. I waited until Mama went to bartend to sneak out. She’d told me to practice my vocals, and truthfully, I would’ve rather done that than go toTodd’s.

There was nothing I liked about the idea of going to his house and being surrounded by drunks. Plus, I knew Todd was just trying to get in my pants, and I had no interest in that whatsoever, but I also couldn’t stand by and let him keep bullyingElliott.

If all it took was me showing up at his stupid party for him to leave Elliott alone, then I’d make my presenceknown.

But first, I made a pitstop.

Elliott was already performing on the corner when I arrived. He had a newsboy hat sitting on top of his head, and he wore a white button-down shirt with black suspenders attached to his pants. He looked exactly how a jazz musician should, and he sounded even better. He was so nervous at all points in his life, except for when that saxophone was in his hands. When Elliott had his music, his soul was free. Because of jazz, Elliott was able tobreathe.

It was insane what his music did to me, how it made me want to be happy and sad all at once. Some of his songs were upbeat, and sometimes he’d even dance a bit as heplayed.

Other songs…theycried.

I could feel the sadness in them, and I could see Elliott being affected by them. There were more people standing around watching him this time, more individuals tossing change into his instrument case. It was as if he was building his own littlefanbase.

And I was the leader of thepack.

There was no way I could walk away until he finished his last note. When he finished, I just wanted more, and so did everyoneelse.

“Encore!” a few shouted, and Elliott lowered his brows, appearing to be deep inthought.

“I-I-I can do one more?” he told everyone, earning a round ofcheers.

As his fingers danced across the keys on his saxophone and he began to blow, my heart tightened. The sounds, they were familiar, but I didn’t recognize them at first. As he played, tears formed in my eyes, and I listened to him, wanting nothing more than to move in closer. I wanted to feel his energy, his heartbeats as heplayed.

As the tears fell down my cheeks, I prayed for him to never stop playing, but still, eventually hefinished.

As he started packing up, he returned to his nervous self, and this time, I wasn’t going to miss myopportunity.

“You were perfect again,” I said, smiling hisway.

When he looked up, his eyes darted, paused, then shifted again before they settled on me. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and he used his index finger to adjust them. “You came to watchme?”

I nodded. “I told you, you’re the best musician I’ve everheard.”

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