walking, talking bacterial infection."
Kurt Cobain
I stare at the screen of my phone for what seems like hours. I can’t believe what just happened. I just got off the phone with the manager of Emily Powell—the pop star who has climbed the charts of the music scene, breaking record after record in just five years. She won seven categories at the 2022 Grammys, and her first world tour sold out in every country within hours of tickets going on sale.
And I didn’t just talk to her manager—I talked toher.
She told me she loves my covers, loves the way I play, the confidence I have with instruments.
They didn’t explain the reason for the call, and I don’t even know how they got my number. The only person I can think of is Sam, since everyone knows by now that we’re friends. Even if we fought after he found out what I did to Nova.
The situation online’s getting bigger than I ever imagined. Tons of TikTok accounts are making videos about me, and a lot of people in the music industry are sharing their opinions. And to make things even crazier, Emily Powell wants to meet me in a week, before her first date at the Oakland Coliseum.
I wish I could call Steven, call Nova. But I can’t. Not after what I did to her.
I know I went too far this time—but I wasn’t lying. It’s true that she’s too much for me. And ever since I came back, things have only gotten worse for her. I can’t even console her, because I can’t even take care of myself.
In about two hours it’s my birthday. I’ll be twenty-two. And I can’t even cook a meal for myself.
I came back to my parents’ house for a few days, but I haven’t left my room in a week. I’ve been lying in bed with the door locked,Zombieby The Cranberries blasting from the stereo on repeat.
Chris and I don’t even speak anymore. Or rather,Idon’t have the strength to answer him. What could I possibly say, except that I’m sorry they thought they saw light in me that day—a light that doesn’t exist. A light my biological father turned off a long time ago.
I don’t even know whether I should go to that meeting with Emily and her manager. Why should I? I depend on pills I’m too scared to take, and I can’t even get out of bed to go to the bathroom.
Nova and I haven’t spoken in weeks, and the worst part is that in the last half hour, I’ve received at least ten calls from her. I don’t understand why. Why won’t she leave me alone? Why can’t she move on and find someone who will really make her happy?
I stare at the guitar resting beside me on the bed. The longer I look at it, the more I feel like I’ve failed.
I grab it and smash it against the floor with all the strength I have. I walk to the door, throw it into the hallway.
Then the recorder. The triangle. The drum. My electric guitar. The keyboard. The sheet music. Everything.
Until I find myself holding the ukulele Nova gave me when we were kids.
I hear footsteps rushing up the stairs, and then my parents are standing in front of me. Daniel’s the first to speak, his eyes filled with tears. He’s wearing a kitchen apron, his red hair dusted with flour. I miss cooking with him.
“Vincent, honey-bee, what are you—”
“What?!” I shout, grabbing one of the broken pieces I threw and flinging it down the stairs. “What the fuck do you want?”
Chris steps in, taking the ukulele from my hands and gripping me by the arms. He shoves me back against the wall. “Vincent Cooper, what the hell are you doing? Why are you destroying your instruments?”
“Because they’re useless!I’museless!”
I try to fight free, but his grip is too strong. Or maybe I’m just too weak. Maybe I’ve always been that weak, incapable kid I was when I first came here.
San Francisco hasn’t helped me. It hasn’t made me better. All I’ve done is ruin the wonderful people around me—starting with my parents, Steven... and Nova. Especially Nova. I’ve hurt her so much, and not even a fraction of the pain I feel now compares to hers.
“Honey-bee, what—” Daniel starts, but I cut him off, glaring at him with all the hatred I feel toward myself.
“Don’t call me honey-bee! What’s the point? I’m not your honey-bee. I’m not your son, and I never will be. Never!”
Chris grabs my chin between his fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Vincent! Can you please explain what’s wrong? Talk to me!”
“Everything’swrong. You suck. You both suck. Just leave me the hell alone!”
“Why are you acting like you hate us? What’s going on, kiddo?” His gaze is desperate.
