Page 11 - Scar Girl

S car G I r L

“Oh, hey, Chey,” he said to me, and then turned to
Johnny. “I can get going. We can finish this later.”

“No, stay, stay. Play the song for Chey.” Johnny eased
himself onto the folding chair behind his keyboard. We
were cramped in there, and I felt like the walls were
closing in. Harry looked at me, waiting for some cue,

some hint to know whether he should stay or go. I needed
to tell Johnny my news—our news—and I wanted Harry
out of there in the worst possible way, but I was kind
of stuck. I didn’t know how to ask him to leave without

giving everything away.
Anyway, maybe Harry could read all that in my eyes,
because he said, “No, really, I should go. I’ll play it for the
whole band when we jam Monday.”

“Stop,” Johnny said. “Just play it. Really, she’s going to
love it.”
Classic Johnny. Issuing orders and talking about other
people like they weren’t in the room. As much as all of

our relationships had grown and changed, the foundation
of who we were was the same. While it didn’t happen as
much as it used to, when Johnny gave a command Harry
was programmed to follow.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, lifted Johnny’s
acoustic onto his lap, and started picking. I leaned against
the doorjamb, listening and watching.
Harry was nervous. I could tell because he does this

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