Tone Deaf(60)

She pulls away from me, and just as she’s about to walk out of the kitchen, she says, “I’ll wait for you. You can be a jerk, but I also really believe you care about people. And if you can do that, then I think you have more good in you than bad. So I’ll wait for you to figure out how to love.”

With that said, she grabs her duffle bag off the couch and walks out of the RV, not even giving me a chance to respond.

I don’t think I could have come up with one, anyway.





28


ALI


KILLER AND I stay up until three in the morning, watching a grand total of eight Doctor Who episodes. Killer has most of the episodes memorized line for line, and he waves his hands around as he acts along with David Tennant and the rest of the cast. Unfortunately, I’m right next to him on the couch, so I keep having to dodge his flails when he gets too excited. Fortunately, I’m deaf, so I don’t have to hear his attempts at mimicking the voices.

When the eighth episode ends, and Killer’s caffeine high has officially worn off, I tell him he should have been an actor. He grimaces and says, “But then I would have had to kiss girls.” He smiles sheepishly. “No offense, darling.”

I laugh and let my head fall back against the cushion, my gaze roaming around the room. Killer and Arrow’s RV is different from Jace’s. Some of it’s technically the same—there are the band posters, the bright colors, the comfy couches. But there’s no denying it’s totally different. It feels . . . alive. Like it’s been lived in so much, it’s actually absorbed some of that life. It practically radiates the message Happy Couple Lives Here. There are pictures all over of Killer and Arrow together, some of them with the rest of the band.

Next to the couch is a picture I keep studying. It must have been taken when the band had just started; they all look impossibly young, and they’re standing in front of less-than-professional music equipment. In the photo, Killer wears a shirt that says, KEEP CALM AND DON’T BLINK, a pair of jeans that look designer brand, and that dorky grin of his. So he’s been a Doctor Who fan and fashion aficionado since the very beginning of the band—it’s not at all surprising, and neither is the trademark smile.

Arrow stands behind him, his arms wrapped around Killer’s waist and a sheepish smile on his face. Jon is missing from the picture, except for his thumb. At least I’m assuming that’s what the pinkish-tan splotch is in the corner.

As interesting and cute as the picture is, it makes me sad. Because standing next to Arrow and Killer is Jace. His arm is in a sling, and he has a black eye that just makes his glare at the camera look all the more severe. Jace’s good arm clutches an electric guitar—it’s beaten up and scratched all over, but polished to an impossible shine. He holds onto it like he’ll simply dissolve into a pile of dead dust if he ever lets go.

Something taps my arm, startling me back to the present. I turn to Killer, but his eyes are on the picture and his lips turned down in a frown. I’ve never seen him look so serious and sorrowful, and it’s such a drastic contrast to his usual expression that I want to look away from him.

Killer nods to my new smartphone in my lap, which he’s been texting me on all evening so I don’t have to focus on reading his lips. There’s a new message on my screen: He’s never been happy, you know. My fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure how to respond, but then Killer taps out another message before I get the chance. You’ve seen his scar?

Yeah.

Killer shakes his head, like he’s trying to dislodge a memory from his skull. I thought he might show you that. He usually doesn’t even mention it to anyone, but you’re special to him.

I smile uncertainly, but Killer just sighs and shakes his head.

You shouldn’t be smiling about that.

His words do the trick—my smile disappears. Why not?

Because this is Jace we’re talking about. He’s messed up. I love the dude like a brother, but I still don’t think he’s healthy for a girl like you.

A girl like me? I text back, shooting him a challenging look to go along with the message. You think a musician shouldn’t date a deaf girl?

No. I think a whole shouldn’t have to date a half.

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means you came out all right, even though some bad shit has obviously happened to you.

I snap my attention up from my screen and glare right at him, my eyes narrowing. Killer just holds up his hands innocently, then types out another message.

Don’t give me that look. Jace hasn’t told me hardly anything about your past. I’m just speculating here.

I nod slowly as he keeps typing.

Jace didn’t turn out like you. He came out broken.

So I’ll fix him.

Killer smiles, but it’s sad and longing, a far cry from his usual expression. I wish it was that easy.

I’m quiet for a long minute, absorbing his words, examining his expression, trying to find some way I can refute everything he’s telling me. But no argument can stand up against the look of pain in Killer’s eyes.

What happened to him? I ask. You say he’s broken, so what broke him?

The obvious answer would be what Jace told me—the time his dad attacked him. But there has to be something more than that, because Jace is strong. Sure, he’s evasive, but even more than that, he’s stubborn and determined and passionate.