Another eye roll.
“Honestly, you were only like a half-step flat in that one spot, and everything else was perfectly in tune.”
She tilts her head at my words.
“What?” I ask, suddenly super-aware I’m giving singing notes to Mackenzie Nash of all people. I bet no one’s given her notes in years.
Her question, however, surprises me.
“Kinley, do you have perfect pitch?”
Oh. Well…
“I’ve been told I’ve got a pretty good ear.”
She hums a note and raises her chin at me.
“I’m not your trained monkey, Mac.”
“Humor me. What note did I just hum?”
“You’re not going to like the answer.”
Just being truthful here.
“I can take it.”
“I think you were going for aC, but it was a little…flat.”
She grimaces at my assessment.
“I’m sorry! You asked!”
“I know, I know. Let’s try something that isn’t my shitty voice.”
Before I can protest, she takes her pencil and taps the metal band against her coffee mug twice.
“You hit it in two different places, so two different notes,” I answer automatically, humming the two pitches. “The first hit produced anA. The second produced anA-sharp.”
“Youdohave perfect pitch,” she says accusatorially. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
I sigh.
“Here’s the thing, I tell people I have perfect pitch, and they say I should be a singer, which is, like, a completely different skill set.”
“Youshouldbe a singer. Or a composer.”
“Look, I like singing. I like playing around with the notes. I enjoy doing those things casually, with friends. At karaoke.”
Mac winces.
“You snob,” I elbow her. “Karaoke can be fun.”
“If you’re singing, I’m sure it is.”
“I can sing in tune, but I don’t have great range. It’s one of the reasons I really like your music. You don’t go too high.”
“Yeah, well. My range is sort of limited too.”
