“Okay. Okay, bye.”
Still, she doesn’t move, just stands there biting her lip. Behind her, Grant looks less than amused, mouthing something that looks a lot like teenagers while glaring at his phone.
I smooth my hand over the top of Charlie’s hair—?just once, and playfully—?then turn her around and press my palm to her back, nudging her toward the door. She goes and I weave through the thick crowd, easing my way closer to the stage. By the time I find a spot a couple rows back from where Charlie now stands tuning her guitar, I’m out of breath and my hands are sweaty. Laughter bursts from the left, a scream from the right, and a slosh of something spills out of a nearby cup and splashes near my feet. I hook my hands around my elbows and hold tight until the lights dim even more and the first musician comes out on stage.
It’s a guy about our age, shaggy hair, indiscriminate features, angsty emo song about grieving his lost love by wandering in the woods or something. He’s decent and has a really smooth tone to his voice, but he doesn’t hold the crowd for very long. Still, plenty of cheers rise up when he finishes, lots of fists in the air and hell yeahs.
The next performer is a girl with dark skin and gorgeous curly hair, and she launches into an aria I recognize from school but can’t put my finger on the title. She’s lowered the key and paired it with an acoustic guitar, and her voice is super folksy. Somehow, it works, the crowd a little more attentive than with Emo Boy.
Finally, Aria Girl strides off stage. There’s a pause as a tech guy raises up the microphone a little and checks some pedal on the ground. Charlie’s up next. Nerves tighten around my stomach like a fist.
And then she’s in front of me, tall and elegant, all trace of nervousness gone. She greets the audience and says her name into the microphone, her voice clear and light. Perfect. As she talks, her eyes drift through the crowd, finding mine before her last name is even out of her mouth.
“This song is for you,” she says, her gaze now wandering through the whole crowd.
Then she plays. The first few chords are enough to tell me that I’ve never heard this song before.
Come with me outside,
you don’t have to hide,
our masks are crumbling to the ground.
Crushing smiles beneath our feet,
words curled with smoke and heat,
a million girls who can’t make a sound.
Beauty and strength,
it’s a mask, it’s a maze,
it’s a wonder we’re standing up straight.
Beauty and strength,
it’s a fight, it’s a phase,
don’t tell me I don’t know my place.
Charlie doesn’t look at me again, but I can’t take my eyes off her. The room is a lot more hushed than with the previous two performers, everyone transfixed. Her voice is husky, but also smooth like river water over rocks. The song . . . god, this song. It almost hurts, it’s so raw. So . . . Charlie. I can’t even think straight as I listen, trying to memorize the words so I can roll them over and over in my head later.
“Damn, that’s good stuff. She’s fucking amazing,” some guy next to me says. I don’t know if he’s talking to me or his friends or the universe itself, but it doesn’t matter. My smile comes easily, hearing some stranger with no loyalty to me or Charlie praising her. Really seeing her.
“Yeah. She’s magical, isn’t she?” I say.
No one answers, but I don’t need them to. I just need this. Charlie.
I spiral through the crowd, needing to get even closer to the stage, Charlie totally electric above me. The song rises, fevered as she repeats the chorus again.
Beauty and strength,
it’s a mask, it’s a maze . . .
She moves gracefully on the stage, not too expository but energized enough to rivet anyone watching her. Her short hair and lace tank top, combat boots and guitar. I have no idea why she wants to hide all of this from her parents. They’d love seeing her up there. They’d love everything about this.
When she sings, I can barely stay still. It’s always been like this, something fluorescent and nearly radioactive lighting up my veins. And it’s not only that I like her music, like her voice, like her. There’s something that lights up in me when she plays, some fundamental part of me aching and fighting to get loose.
