Page 34

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

He waves for me to follow him, and I do. We decide to practice beside a circular planter with a thin tree sprouting from it, pink dahlias shrouded around the trunk.

“One thing my dad taught me when I was learning the guitar was the power stance,” Jase says. He demonstrates by standing with his legs apart like an upside-down V, then puffing his chest and lifting his head high. “You have to show the audience that you exist, and that you’re ready for anything.”

I mirror him the best I can, only to stand so awkwardly my shoulders stiffen. Maybe it’s because I worry that people are looking at me, but I’d feel a lot less self-conscious if I stood as naturally as Jase is.

I expect him to make fun of me or sigh, give up and realize I have zero confidence. Instead, he surprises me again.

“Try reading whatever’s on your index card,” he says.

I gulp, then start. “Friendship is...” More people our age walk by, laughing as they hunch over the middle girl’s phone. Jase continues watching me, others passing by just an earshot away, carrying paper bags from clothing stores. A few more walk past us, the smell of hot dogs and cheeseburgers strong. They’re so close they can hear me. I huff out a sigh. “Sorry.”

“How about this,” Jase offers, still in his power stance. “Tell me something you like about yourself.”

Several girls walk by, their flip flops scraping across the ground, as I take in what he says. “Isn’t that kind of narcissistic?”

“Narci-what?”

“Narcissistic. Liking yourself too much.”

“No.” Jase says simply. “You’ve got to like at least one thing about yourself.”

It’s such a simple icebreaker. I should be able to answer it, so why can’t I?

“Okay, I’ll start,” Jase volunteers. Still standing in his power stance, which I now realize is the same stance he had that first day at Blossoms, he says, “I like that I can play guitar.”

He makes it look so easy. It should be, shouldn’t it? I take a deep breath, then resume my awkward “power” stance. “I like that I take photographs.” I can just hear Mr. Daniels telling me to project.

“Why?”

“We’re doing follow-up questions now?”

“Sure, why not.”

Funny how Jase somehow manages to add another direction to whatever we’re doing. “Well, I like capturing moments and little details. I like giving them the spotlight. I think everything deserves some special attention.”

“Nice, so are you going to show me some of your pictures?”

“Was this a trick to get me to show them?”

“No, I just thought this was my chance to ask.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“My turn to what?”

“Tell me why you like music.”

“It’s fun. Even as a kid, I always thought it was cool to bring a song to life. And that’s what I get to do when I play my guitar.”

Darn. I thought I caught him off-guard. Then again, Jase performs every week, so I, an audience of one, must be nothing compared to the crowd that always packs Blossoms.

“What made you want to play the guitar?” I ask.

“Ah, look who’s asking follow-up questions now.”