Free The Shore by Todd Strasser

cramped room, “is mycompromise. I work and help pay for some of their expenses and I get to have my own place instead of sharing a one-bedroom apartment with them.”
    â€œExcellent compromise,” he noted.
    â€œI kind of thought so too. So, when I’m not working, yeah, I spend time on my music. You too, right?”
    He shrugged, then nodded. “We’re trying to get some gigs around here for the summer. I guess you could say we came here to be heard.”
    â€œThen I’m sure you will be.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œThat’s cool,” she said, waving it off. “What’s the name of the band?”
    â€œStranger Than Fiction,” he said with pride. The name had been his idea, and he considered it one of his finest contributions.
    â€œKiller. So, are you?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œStranger than fiction?”
    â€œSometimes,” he said, shooting her a sly smile. He dropped eye contact with her, thinking about the band and everything they’d been through. They had started out rotating through all their garages until the parents freaked at the noise. After that, they’d practiced in one guy’s barn. It sucked during the winter because it didn’t have any heat. The second year they were together, the lead singer had overdosed and nearly died. The guy’s parents had freaked and shipped himoff to boot camp and the band had to find someone to take his place. They were trying to get money for better equipment and saving up for a recording session. Before that could happen, though, they needed better songs. It had been rough, but he knew STF could make it if they stuck together. They’d come a long way, and Curt wouldn’t let anyone stop them now.
    His eyes fell on a beat-up black notebook on April’s bed. He picked it up and flipped it open.
    â€œHey!” April protested. ‘That’s private!”
    Curt closed the notebook and put it back down. “These your songs?” he asked.
    â€œYes.” She picked up the notebook and hugged it to her chest. Curt noticed she liked to do that with the things she treasured. He wondered what it would take for him to become something she treasured, and to receive the same treatment.
    â€œCan you play one for me?” he asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCome on.” Curt smiled and turned the charm on. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
    â€œI told you, I don’t play my stuff for other people.”
    â€œThen what’s the point? Besides, I’m not other people. I’m a musician, just like you,” he said, mustering his most intense and alluring gaze.
    April gazed back at him uncertainly.
    â€œSwear I won’t tell a soul,” Curt said.
    She slowly put the notebook down. Curt had a feeling he’d won her over.
    â€œOh, okay, just one.” She heaved a sigh, picked up her guitar, strummed a few chords, and then started singing. “Our bodies went down . . . the moon went up. Slipping . . . sliding . . . the mating dance has just begun. It’s the moon and not the sun. Yeah. It’s the moon and not the sun.”
    Curt listened as she sang. The song was good. So good that he could almost hear it being sung by someone else.
    Polly and Avery were up to their elbows in clams. They were at an outdoor fish market, surrounded by stalls selling fish, clams, crabs and all manner of saltwater crustaceans. As Polly dumped another handful of clams into a plastic bag she took a moment to look at Avery, who looked perplexed as she pawed through the slimy shells.
    â€œFirst clambake?” Polly asked.
    Avery nodded. “Is it that obvious?”
    â€œKind of. So, what’s your story?” Polly blurted out.
    â€œExcuse me?” Avery asked, looking puzzled.
    â€œSorry, I was just trying to make conversation,” Polly said. “It’s just if we don’t talk about you, then I’m going to start babbling about me,