Page 107 of Resurrection
Then his hands move fast, a flick of his wrist and music bursts from the strings. Suddenly, he’s a rockstar again, commanding and sure. The kids gawk, and he smiles.
Kenny whispers something to him, still skeptical but less so.
"We've got this," Ty tells the teens from Phoenix Down. His voice is steady and warm, melting away some of the tension in the room. "You guys just do what you’ve been doing, and I’ll go alone with it," he instructs.
They all nod.
I glance at my watch, and it’s almost showtime.
That’s when my phone buzzes. Adri. I pick up and move to the side, away from the noise and foot traffic. "Any news?" I ask.
"No one’s home," he says. "I talked to some neighbors, and they don’t know what’s going on. One of them said he saw the family leave the trailer park late last night. The kid was with them too."
"And?"
"Nothing more I can do right now, sis."
"Darn it."
"I’ll keep you posted if there’s an update."
"Okay. Thanks."
"Yeah. No problem. Later."
"Bye."
I put the phone away and walk back to our group.
Miranda is looking at me expectantly, like she knows I just got news about Asher. I squeeze her arm, a promise and an apology all at once. "This is gonna be amazing," I say, and I mean it. No need to alarm anyone right before the set.
We hurry toward the stage entrance, everyone cramming together, anxious and excited at the same time.
"Break a leg," Ty whispers as I draw a deep breath and ready myself to announce the band.
The crowd in the auditorium is buzzing as I head toward the mic, the distance between me and it stretching like taffy. The instruments are being hauled out by the parents and volunteers. It’s all been rehearsed and done a thousand times, and it’s quick and efficient.
My mouth is dry as I wrap my hand around the microphone stand. "Thanks, everyone, for being here today," I say. My voice booms through the speakers, and the room quiets, a thousand eyes on me. "Our next performance is from Phoenix Down. Please welcome Kenny, Jamie, and Miranda." I pause to take another breath. "We've got a last-minute change for you. Filling in for Asher is someone who's been helping us behind the scenes." I shoot a sideways glance to my left where Ty’s hiding in the shadows. "Tyler Brady!"
His name hangs in the air, and for a second, there's silence. Then whispers. Recognition. Surprise.
The kids are at their stations, looking nervous but eager.
Ty walks across the stage last and waves at the audience as I retreat.
The band strikes the first chord of the Led Zeppelin cover, and the sound is electric. Alive. Ty plays with an intensity that spills into every crack and crevice, and suddenly, they're transformed. He finds the beat, and their voices catch up, and I can see it—the moment everything clicks.
Ty's guitar weaves through the music like a thread, stitching it all together, and my chest swells with pride.
I can't take my eyes off him. Off them. They're more than I hoped for. More than they hoped for.
The auditorium erupts with applause after the first song.
Ty glances my way, and our eyes meet across the stage. He winks, the gesture so familiar, it makes my stomach do somersaults. I think of how he looked that morning when I stayed over at his place, asleep and at peace, and I can't believe he's the same person standing here, larger than life. Larger than any stage. Larger than what this tiny town can hold in its hands.
He was always meant to do this, to share his music, his talent with the world. The best thing that happened to us was him leaving.
27TYLER
