Free Falling Under by Jasinda Wilder Page A

songs, try to remember the melody. Try the tune, search for the right chords. Finally, I get it, and I listen to the song in my head and try to make it come out via the guitar strings. I have to close my eyes to focus, and when I finally find the groove, I settle into it. It feels weird, but good to play like this. Slow, soft. Like I’m tapping into some other as-yet untouched portion of my musical soul.  
    When I finish the song, I open my eyes, and I’m embarrassed to see that Kylie is frozen at the piano, and Nell and Colt themselves are both in the booth, listening.  
    “Sorry, I—I was just goofing around.” I feel like I’m…imposing, or intruding on sacred territory, trying to play and probably murdering Nell and Colt’s music in their own home. What the hell was I thinking?
    I set the guitar down, but Nell’s voice comes from the intercom. “Why are you apologizing? That was amazing!”
    I shake my head. “Nah. I was just messing around. I’ve never played acoustic before. I just—”
    “No, for real, that was good Oz.” This is Kylie, from the piano. “I’ve heard Mom and Dad play that live, and you got it just right on the first try. You’re seriously talented, Oz.”
    I shrug, and scrape at a string with the pick. “Thanks, I guess.” I’m uncomfortable, embarrassed, and my instinct is to bolt. I want to throw the guitar down and run, fly on my bike back home. I don’t. I force myself to stay in place, and to bear up under the scrutiny. I glance at Kylie. “Play something for me.”  
    She strokes the piano keys, thinking. A glance at her parents in the booth reveals her nerves, but she sucks in a deep breath and nods. “Okay. How about…how about this. I’ve been working on this for a while. It’s ‘Freedom Hangs Like Heaven’ by Iron & Wine.”
    A few beats of intro, and then she starts singing, and I’m blown away. Just…breathless. Having heard Nell and Colt, I shouldn’t be surprised that their daughter inherited their talent, but the scope of how good her voice is totally floors me. It’s got a soulful rasp to it, a la Adele, and of course she’s just absolutely pitch perfect. I steal a glance at her parents, and I can tell they’re both surprised, too, since they sit back and watch, mouths slightly ajar.  
    The piano hums as the notes fade, and Kylie looks at me for my reaction.  
    “Holy shit, Kylie. Just…holy shit.”  
    She laughs. “I guess it was okay, huh?”  
    Colt speaks from the booth. “ Okay ? Kylie, how is it I didn’t know you were that good?”
    She shrugs. “I practice when you’re not here.”
    “You should let me record you sometime,” Colt says.
    Kylie shakes her head. “No. Not yet. Maybe once I’ve gotten a few gigs on my own.”
    Nell comes around into the recording room. “You want to gig?”
    Kylie lifts one shoulder, toying with the piano keys with the other. “Yeah. But I don’t want your help. I know you could get me a contract, and get me gigs, and all that. I want to do it on my own. Not because I’m your daughter.”
    Nell glances at me. “Are you going to gig with her?”
    I feel like my throat is clogged. “I. Um. I thought we were just doing the open mic night. I don’t know.”
    Kylie frowns at me. “I told you my plan was to start with open mic night, just to get my feet wet. Now that I’ve heard you play, I know for a fact we could get a Thursday or Friday night spot somewhere off Broadway.”
    “Ugh. Kylie, seriously? I don’t know.” I strum idly at the guitar. “I always saw myself in a metal band, not playing indie folk.”
    “You can do both. Just do the open mic night with me. Please?”  
    I pluck my hat from my head and smooth a few wayward strands away from my face, replace the hat. “I guess. I told you I’d do the open mic night with you, so I will. But I’m not sure about the gigs. I’ve never performed in front of people before. You, and now your parents, are the only people who’ve ever