Free FascinatingRhythm by Lynne Connolly

currently displayed Riku in all his glory. His hair was the
same color as his cheeks—cyclamen-pink, with part of it sticking in spikes on
top of his head and the rest caught behind in a ponytail, which turned black
below the golden clasp.
    He wore black with pink accents, the shoulders of his jacket
hugely exaggerated, buttoned asymmetrically, as if he’d fastened it up wrong,
but the cut indicated he hadn’t. His pants were tight, almost sprayed on, but
the bright-pink streamers fastened to his waistband swirled around him as he
moved, flying up when they caught the stream of what must be a fan set at the
side of the stage. He should look funny, but he didn’t. He looked otherworldly,
different and deeply committed.
    Sabina watched him as, utterly intent on his work, his
fingers flew over the keyboard with the increasing tempo of the music.
    The crowd went wild. Most people were on their feet by the
end of the first number, but Sabina preferred to lean forward and rest her
elbows on the parapet in front of her. She watched the band, her attention
going from one member to the other, Hunter’s rhythms pounding under her feet.
    She loved it. Could watch this every night, even if the band
did exactly the same thing, which she guessed they didn’t because she saw the
way they gave Jace space to work magic on the guitar and the subtle signals
they sent each other.
    At one point the lights dimmed and most of the band left the
stage. Hunter left on the opposite side to where she was sitting, but as he
did, he looked up at her and stepped into a spot of bright, clear light. He
signed, “I can’t see you but I know you’re out there. It makes a difference.”
    Tears rolled down her face. She didn’t hide them. Two, one
from each eye. They filled her lower lids and then fell from the corners, tracking
down each side of her face. They were her homage to him and what he’d done.
    Other people must have seen him. He’d used ASL, one of the
most common out there, so someone out of these thousands of people must have
read it too. But he could have been signing his mother, as far as they knew.
The message could mean something to both of them.
    Not that Emmelie had seen. She was too busy texting.
    During the acoustic numbers, Zazz held the audience in his
thrall. She watched his lips, made out most of the lyrics as he sang. Not about
love or its loss, but about people who allowed their negative sides to rule
them, criticizing and wrecking other people. He opened his soul, showed them
some of the people he’d known and made the particular universal. Sabina loved it,
drank in every word.
    Only Jace accompanied him, but her attention was distracted
when Hunter returned to the stage, walking quietly across to his kit in the
gloom. Although he was among the plethora of instruments, he shook only a small
percussion device, which she guessed added new textures to the song. She wanted
to hear it.
    Occasionally sound filtered through, but unfocused and
undefined. It gave her only a taste, an aural glimpse into the music. She
wanted more.
    The song about negativity segued into a song about victims,
people who were used or who took a wrong path in life, people who received the
wrong advice, and people who leaped in without considering the consequences.
Not a song about responsibility though, because Zazz sang about tragedy, and sometimes
events that were beyond the control of the victims.
    It should have been depressing, but Sabina found the
experience exhilarating. Although Zazz had exaggerated the stories in his
songs, there was something in them for everyone to recognize, evoking times
they’d been less than perfect. But they’d survived. They were here. The
togetherness he created staggered her. Even Emmelie had stopped texting and was
watching Zazz, lip-reading.
    The lights blazed and the band appeared back on stage.
Without warning, they created a massive, discordant note that pierced even
Sabina’s wall of sound and she heard