to set. I finish making the beurre blanc, slowly adding the small bits of real butter to the sauce to keep it from breaking. Then I package up everything into Styrofoam to-go containers. Lainey’s dad looks at my list of ingredients and charges me ten bucks, which I know is probably way less than what I actually owe.
“Thanks again,” I say, heading out into the sun. It’s a little after six thirty. Amber and the band should be done by now.
Amber’s mom lets me in when I get to her house. “They’re in the basement, of course,” she says. “They’ve been at it all day.”
I don’t hear any music coming through the floor. Maybe the band is just finishing up. “Yeah, she seems really committed,” I say.
Amber’s dad looks up from where he’s flipping through a magazine on the sofa. “I’m about ready to be committed,” he jokes. He drops the magazine onto the coffee table. “I don’t understand how you kids all aren’t deaf from that music.”
“We probably will be eventually,” I admit. Gesturing at my containers from the restaurant, I say, “Can I borrow a knife? I brought cake.”
“Help yourself.” Amber’s mom gestures toward a chopping block full of knives on the kitchen counter. “Just be careful.”
I grab a chef’s knife to slice the cake and balance it on top of the cake pan and Styrofoam containers. Then I carefully open the door to the basement and make my way down the steps.
The first thing I see is the entire band sitting on the couch in front of the TV.
The second thing I see is Amber, sitting so close to Nate their legs are touching.
The third thing I see is a pizza box on the coffee table.
“Micah!” Amber looks up at me, a half-eaten slice of pizza dangling from her right hand. “Is it six already?”
“Almost seven,” I say, setting everything down on the coffee table.
“Sweet,” Nate exclaims. “Did you bring dessert?” He reaches for one of the containers.
“If you touch that, you will lose a hand.” I glance meaningfully at the knife.
Nate raises his arms in surrender. “Mellow out, boss. I was just joking.”
“I’m plenty mellow,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I’m not your boss.”
Amber’s guitarist, Damien, hops up from his seat. He stretches his arms over his head. “Long day, huh? Anyone need a ride home?”
“Hold up.” Eli tosses his long, dark hair back from his face. “This is just beginning to get good.”
“Eli, don’t start,” Amber warns.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” Eli fiddles with the collar of his Naruto T-shirt. He twirls one drumstick in his right hand as he glances from me to Nate to Amber. “You said I can leave my kit here, right? Since we’ll be practicing again tomorrow?”
Amber glances toward the drum set. “Sure. No point in pulling it all apart.”
“I think I’ll leave my guitar too,” Damien says.
The two of them head for the stairs. “Nate, you coming?” Eli asks.
Nate stands up slowly, making a big show of how tall he is, a hint of challenge flickering in his stare. “I don’t know. Amber, are we done here?” he asks, not taking his dark eyes off me for a second.
“Yeah.” She looks back and forth between the two of us. “See you tomorrow.”
I wait until the three of them are gone before I say anything. “Thought you had family stuff tomorrow.”
“I did. I mean I do,” she corrects herself. “Janne just wanted us to squeeze in another short practice before next Saturday since we might not be able to get together during the week with school and Nate’s work.”
“Right. Nate’s work. Cancer might not get cured if he takes a day off from his crucial bar-back duties.”
Anger flashes in Amber’s blue eyes. “Why are you being an ass? I already told you we’re just friends.”
“Amber, that dude is trying to get with you. Do me a favor and stop pretending to be blind, okay?” I perch on the arm of the sofa, a buffer of two cushions between us.
“So what if he
“Thanks again,” I say, heading out into the sun. It’s a little after six thirty. Amber and the band should be done by now.
Amber’s mom lets me in when I get to her house. “They’re in the basement, of course,” she says. “They’ve been at it all day.”
I don’t hear any music coming through the floor. Maybe the band is just finishing up. “Yeah, she seems really committed,” I say.
Amber’s dad looks up from where he’s flipping through a magazine on the sofa. “I’m about ready to be committed,” he jokes. He drops the magazine onto the coffee table. “I don’t understand how you kids all aren’t deaf from that music.”
“We probably will be eventually,” I admit. Gesturing at my containers from the restaurant, I say, “Can I borrow a knife? I brought cake.”
“Help yourself.” Amber’s mom gestures toward a chopping block full of knives on the kitchen counter. “Just be careful.”
I grab a chef’s knife to slice the cake and balance it on top of the cake pan and Styrofoam containers. Then I carefully open the door to the basement and make my way down the steps.
The first thing I see is the entire band sitting on the couch in front of the TV.
The second thing I see is Amber, sitting so close to Nate their legs are touching.
The third thing I see is a pizza box on the coffee table.
“Micah!” Amber looks up at me, a half-eaten slice of pizza dangling from her right hand. “Is it six already?”
“Almost seven,” I say, setting everything down on the coffee table.
“Sweet,” Nate exclaims. “Did you bring dessert?” He reaches for one of the containers.
“If you touch that, you will lose a hand.” I glance meaningfully at the knife.
Nate raises his arms in surrender. “Mellow out, boss. I was just joking.”
“I’m plenty mellow,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I’m not your boss.”
Amber’s guitarist, Damien, hops up from his seat. He stretches his arms over his head. “Long day, huh? Anyone need a ride home?”
“Hold up.” Eli tosses his long, dark hair back from his face. “This is just beginning to get good.”
“Eli, don’t start,” Amber warns.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” Eli fiddles with the collar of his Naruto T-shirt. He twirls one drumstick in his right hand as he glances from me to Nate to Amber. “You said I can leave my kit here, right? Since we’ll be practicing again tomorrow?”
Amber glances toward the drum set. “Sure. No point in pulling it all apart.”
“I think I’ll leave my guitar too,” Damien says.
The two of them head for the stairs. “Nate, you coming?” Eli asks.
Nate stands up slowly, making a big show of how tall he is, a hint of challenge flickering in his stare. “I don’t know. Amber, are we done here?” he asks, not taking his dark eyes off me for a second.
“Yeah.” She looks back and forth between the two of us. “See you tomorrow.”
I wait until the three of them are gone before I say anything. “Thought you had family stuff tomorrow.”
“I did. I mean I do,” she corrects herself. “Janne just wanted us to squeeze in another short practice before next Saturday since we might not be able to get together during the week with school and Nate’s work.”
“Right. Nate’s work. Cancer might not get cured if he takes a day off from his crucial bar-back duties.”
Anger flashes in Amber’s blue eyes. “Why are you being an ass? I already told you we’re just friends.”
“Amber, that dude is trying to get with you. Do me a favor and stop pretending to be blind, okay?” I perch on the arm of the sofa, a buffer of two cushions between us.
“So what if he
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