Free Bounce by Noelle August Page A

question surprises me. I have no idea how she knows I surf on Saturday mornings, but I learn soon enough. Ethan, Mia’s boyfriend, came out with me this morning. It’s weird how many of the same people Sky and I know. Ethan’s been a regular at our poker nights for months. I finally convinced him to get out on the water with me. Adam was supposed to be there, too, but he ended up having to work with Brooks.
    I make Sky laugh when I tell her how frustrated Ethan was trying to catch waves. I forget how much upper body strength you need until I’m out there with a beginner. And surfing is all bend and flow. Out there on the waves, it’s about feeling the ocean the same way you feel music. Ethan surfed about as well as I could probably play soccer. Sometimes passably. Most of the time hilariously. Watching him tombstone—wipe out where his board jackknifed straight down into the water and sent him flying—was pretty much the best thing I’ve seen all week.
    We’re almost at Garrett’s house, according to the GPS, and I don’t ever want to get there. I want to drive around Los Angeles for the rest of the night, talking to Skyler about the definition of making out, and her broken-down car, and Ethan’s epic wipeouts. Thinking about all the talking I won’t be able to do is depressing, which makes me quiet. In the silence that settles between us, Skyler reaches for the volume control.
    She turns it up just as I pull into Garrett’s street.
    Time goes into slow motion and three thoughts explode in my head simultaneously.
    One, my demo is still playing. It’s been playing this whole time, but I didn’t notice because the volume was way, way down.
    Two, Skyler’s song that isn’t her song is in this mix. “Surprised by the Sky.” I see the future unfold: she’ll hear it, know I wrote it because she inspired me even though it’s not about her, add it to the you-can-have-my-truck comment, and then think I’m a legitimate psychopath stalker.
    Three, she’s going to hear my singing voice. This scares me more than being called a stalker for having her headshot. My voice is my truth. I don’t care what strangers think of it. I only cared about what Adam thought before he’d heard me. If my parents and I were getting along, if I still cared what they thought of anything I did, I’d care about their opinion of my voice. Apparently, Skyler’s in those ranks, too.
    Weird. I barely even know her, but I’m white-knuckling it, not breathing. Me and the steering wheel. If the steering wheel were a person, it would be turning blue.
    I pull into Garrett’s driveway, realizing the playlist has circled back to the ballad.
    Titus strums a twelve-string acoustic, playing the short intro before I come in. This is the only song he uses it for, but he swears the instrument has the perfect tone to match my voice on this song—a ballad that Shane wrote for Nora.
    When I sing it, sometimes I try to think of what they have. I picture little things, like how Nora wipes Shane’s face with a napkin when we order pizza. How Shane always rubs the base of her neck when they’re close, and how she leans into him, like they share feeling. Maybe they really are twins. Or more than twins. One person, two bodies. I think of how every good thing that happens to the band—a great new song or practice or a booked gig—Shane looks at Nora first.
    This song, in a way, is about the person who’s always your first .
    Other times, I think of my brother and Ali. How she’s made Adam happy when I wasn’t sure he ever would be again. Chloe’s death almost knocked me down for him. But now there’s Ali, and he’s good again. Better than good. One person, two bodies. Two that make one.
    I’ve tried to imagine myself in these words a few times before, but it never sounds right. When I sing it my way, love isn’t some