Page 45 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

I’m not even plugged into the amp, so I should have heard Georgia walk in. But her voice makes me jump and drop my pick.

“Thanks,” I mumble, embarrassed that I’ve been caught. Not that I’m doing anything wrong, but I’m just not at the point where I want to be playing for anyone.

“What song was that?” she asks, bouncing down on her bed. “It sounds familiar.”

In the past month, I’ve mastered not only “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” but the whole nursery rhyme canon, and I’ve even got “Oh Bondage Up Yours!” (or at least the opening chords) down pretty well. But that was... something else. I was just playing around, seeing what sounded good.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I carry Mabel over to my bed, where the case is sitting. Before I snap it closed, I brush my fingers against the little pictures of my two patron saints of music, Poly Styrene andTaylor Swift, that I’ve pinned into the golden lining. I put them there so that maybe Mabel could absorb their energy. But honestly, it’s me that needs their vibes, today especially.

“Don’t put that away for me! I like hearing you play. I wish you would let me go to a show already,” Georgia says. Her face shifts into a smirk and she falls back on her comforter. “Hey, let’s cancel our plans and we can stay like this all day. Do you know ‘The Hills Are Alive’? Maybe I can talk Mrs. Horowitz into a punk rock Maria!”

I fix her with a look. “You’re seriously trying to bail on me? We’re supposed to be there in less than an hour.”

“Chill, I was just playing.” She raises her eyebrows. “Unless...?”

“No. No unless. You said you would go with me, and I can’t—didn’task anyone else.” I swallow the tight feeling in my throat. “It’s important.”

When Reggie apologized to me—that real, honest apology—I knew I wanted to see him again. I guess I wanted to see him again evenbeforehe apologized the second time, but I couldn’t show him that. Not without looking stupid. And desperate. So I kept my distance, threw myself into the band and my still secret guitar lessons, until he made it clear through his texts that he really was the good guy I thought he was. That he’d made a mistake but was willing to take responsibility for it.

I didn’t want him to think I was expecting anything... romantic, though. Not when his friend-zoning of me was so clear. I suggested a friend hang to show him that I was totally cool withthat. Because that’s me: an independent girl who can be friends with boys without seeking out their approval in order to determine self-worth and/or immediately trying to date them. Totally me.

Except the problem is, I don’t really have any friends I could bring to a friend hang, other than people that would make it incredibly awkward (the band) or people that are already Reggie’s friends (Ryan). So I had to ask, or really beg and bribe, Georgia.

“Who is this guy, anyway? Like, is he really worth taking on the full Dad and Sandra show all by yourself? I would almost feel guilty... if I wasn’t fucking elated.”

I told Georgia I would cover for her with Dad and Mom, vouch for emergency theater rehearsals that just coincidentally happen to be when we’re expected over there, so she doesn’t have to see him. I hate going too, but I’m better at getting through it without an inevitable blowup.

“Not for the foreseeable future,” I clarify. “You get three excuses. Use them wisely. And Reggie... he’s a friend.”

“Is he in a band?” Georgia asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you think we’d be going to a comic book store if he was in a band?”

“I don’t know. People contain multitudes.” She shrugs. “Not gonna lie, though, D. That’s a relief! You don’t need to be dating one of these band dudes. They’re bad news. Like, really, scroll through the IGs of any musician’s wife! They all have sad eyes! God, I’m so, SO glad you’re not mooning over Charlie anymore.”

I want to address so many things she just said that I don’t even know where to begin.

“Sad eyes?” I ask, finally.

“Yep.” She nods like that’s a perfectly reasonable generalization. “Anyway, from what I just heard when I walked in here, you might not even need that douche in your band anymore. You can break out on your own! Your new boyfriend better get ready to groupie the shit out of you and treat you like the rock goddess you are.”

“Are you kidding me? On my own?” The very thought makes my heart race in panic. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not—Icouldn’t. I wouldn’t even be here without them.”

“You could be anywhere you want to be,” Georgia says. And I believe thatshebelieves that. But she doesn’t understand how this all works, how little I actually know how to do. Just because I can play a few chords now and hold a guitar right doesn’t mean I can start a whole band of my own or make my own music. That takes someone really special... and I don’t know if I’ll ever have that.

“And hey, you’re not even going to address the second thing I—”

“No comment.” I cut her off. “Actually, yes. Yes comment! Like I said, Reggie and I are just friends.”

“Because we’re both done with dating,remember?”

“Of course I remember, Georgia.” And even if I didn’t, I’m almost certain Reggie’s not interested in dating me anyway.

She crosses her arms and looks me up and down. “Hmm.”

“Just friends,” I repeat. “So canyouplease remember that when we see them?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” she says, very unconvincingly. And I question whether I’ve made a horrible string of decisions that I’m going to regret very shortly.

---