Made to Love (5 page)

“
Hey, guys,” Octavius
greeted.

“
Hey!” the guitarist
called.  The drummer was already playing, headphones over his
ears, but he grinned at them silently when they entered.

“
The loser with the guitar
is Allen,” Octavius said.  “The Asian kid at the drums is
Paul.  Don’t bother trying to talk to him.  He’s
half-deaf from not using ear plugs enough.”

“
We were just saying we
need more work on ‘Crying Dark,’” Allen said.  “I’m not
feeling the melody, you know?”

“
Yeah, sure,” Octavius
said.  He pulled a dusty chair from against the wall and I
sat, clutching my backpack to my chest.  “I hope you like my
song.”

He went to the mic, fiddled
with the dials on the amp, and then they performed.  They were
right—the song was kind of rough, but I didn’t think it was the
melody, or any lack of talent.  At least not on Octavius’s
part.  He was incredible, as expected.  But the lyrics
fell flat.

I watched him sing, the
flexing of his arms as he squeezed the microphone stand, the dark
glimmering of his eyes.  He was
so
dreamy.

When they finished, he
smiled.  “What do you think?”

“
Buh,” I said
intelligently.

“
I have to admit something
to you, Calliope.  I didn’t just bring you here today to watch
us play.”

“
Why…?”

“
You’ve got amazing
poems.  I was kind of hoping you might let us use some of them
for our music.  You can tell we need a little
help.”

I ducked my head. 
“Oh, no.  No way.  They’re not that good.”

“
Let me see,” said
Allen.

Reluctantly, I pulled my
notebook out of my backpack and passed it over.  “Just… look
at the top page, I guess.”

He slid the guitar over his
shoulder and sat on the amp, scanning the page.  “Seething
pain, a wicked bite, I don’t know if I’ll make it home
tonight…”  Allen read the rest silently, and then met
Octavius’s eyes.  “This is a whole lot better than what you
write.”

Octavius laughed and
punched him in the shoulder.  “You see what I mean?  It’s
great.”

Allen passed the notebook
to Paul, who gave it a quick scan and started tapping his foot on
the pedal.  “We could do this,” he said.  “Why don’t you
give me a riff like the one from ‘Crying Dark’?”

Nodding, Allen began
strumming.  They set the notebook on the amp where he had been
sitting so they could both see.  They changed up the tempo,
and I sat back, half-interested and half-mortified Octavius would
be subjected to more of my poems.  What if he didn’t like
them?

“
Come on,” he said,
gesturing to me.  “You know your writing best.  Why don’t
you help us by singing?”

“
Me?” I asked, eyes
widening.  “I don’t know…”

“
Come on,” he said,
pulling me from the chair.  He wrapped his hands around mine
and brought them to the microphone.  “Just try.”  Once he
was sure my hands were in place, he slid his down my hips, pressing
himself against my back.  I tried not to swoon.

I had never been much of a
singer, but with Octavius’s hands cradling my hips, I was pretty
certain I could give even Hayley Williams a run for her
money.  I took a deep breath, nodding at Allen.

They started over on the
riff, and I gave it a measure before singing.  “
Seething
pain, a wicked bite
…”  The melody flowed from her vocal
cords, smooth as silk.  “
I don’t know if I’ll make it home
tonight, baby
.”

Paul did a drum roll, and
Octavius began patting a rhythm out on my right hip.  My
nerves began to fade, and I took a deep breath, emboldened. 
“
I see you there, your shadow in the door.  I could give
you my heart now, forever more.
”

The rhythm sped. 
Allen ripped out a short solo, and Octavius leaned forward to the
mic, his cheek brushing the top of my head.  He picked up the
poem where I left off.  “
Against this darkness all alone,
the black firmament chills me to the bone.
”  His voice
was… amazing.  Without even thinking about it, I leaned back
into him, swaying with his body’s rhythm.

Together, somehow knowing
the right notes, we sang: “
A new world, a prison of stone. 
Free me, sorrow’s sympathy.  Don’t leave me
alone
.”

I turned a little to look
at Octavius.  His dark eyes were glimmering, and our lips were
just inches from each other.

“
You’re not a bad singer,”
Octavius murmured in my ear.  I trembled.

Allen and Paul stopped,
giving each other looks.  “Not bad?” the drummer said
incredulously.  “She’s
great
.”

My cheeks
heated.

“
I’m not as good as you,
Octavius,” I mumbled, stepping away from him and taking a seat once
more.

He winked at her from
underneath his bangs, and then turned back to his band.  “That
wasn’t bad, but we can do better.  Come on, let’s show
Calliope what we can do…”

Chapter Eleven

Band practice ran so long
that we didn't get back to my house until after dark.  And
even then, with the light coming from the basement, I didn't want
to go in.

“
What are you doing now?”
I asked Octavius as I hugged his back.  His leather jacket
smelled like life itself.

He shrugged. 
“Sleeping, probably.  We have school tomorrow, after
all.”

“
And I was supposed to do
homework this afternoon!”  What I didn't tell him was that I
had done all of my homework at lunch when he hadn't been
around.  I hadn't had anything better to do, after all. 
“You should see my apple orchard.”

“
I can sleep some other
time,” he said.

I pulled him off the
motorcycle and to the trees.  They didn't look nearly as scary
now that I had Octavius with me.  I also hadn't noticed the
delicate white flowers that were starting to bloom on the branches;
they shone under the moon, almost like they swallowed the light and
pushed it back out through the fragile petals.

“
Wow,” Octavius
said.  “I love it!”

He jumped forward to the
nearest tree and shimmied up the trunk.  I watched in
amazement as he climbed onto a sturdy branch and sat on it. 
He closed his eyes and breathed in, then sighed the air back
out.

“
You've got a sweet setup
here,” he gushed.

I stared up at him. 
“You like orchards?”

“
I like this
orchard.  It feels...like home.”

Suddenly, I shivered. 
Octavius looked down at me.  “You okay?”

“
This place is a lot
creepier when I'm alone.”  I could almost hear the weeping
again.  I pictured my father's angered face, my mom's
terrified look from earlier.  What was with this
place?

Octavius jumped down and
landed in front of me.  “What happened?”

“
Nothing, it's
nothing.”

“
Yeah.  Because
looking as white as a ghost and shaking like an earthquake is
nothing.”

I looked up into his
eyes.  I felt like I could be lost in them forever. 
“I've only known you two days.”

“
Ever heard of love at
first sight?”

Love.  He said
love
.  I didn't know what to think, but my heart...it
seemed to know.

I leaned up, and he leaned
down.  It was like forces stronger than gravity were pulling
us together, forces as elemental and basic as life itself.  I
had never felt so alive in my entire life.

Just before our lips
touched, light filled the orchard, and I squeezed my eyes shut to
keep it from blinding me.

“
Calliope Crepe
Crestone!”

“
Crap,” I whispered. 
I turned my head and did my best to open my eyes.

Dad stood in the
doorway.  The light came from floodlights on the side of the
house and illuminated the orchard with its cold, unnatural
light.

I opened my mouth to speak,
but Dad had something to say first.  “
You
,” he
hissed.  He wasn't looking at me.

Octavius had a hand
shielding his eyes.  “Hello, sir.  I'm Octavius.  I
go to school with--”

“
You shut your filthy
mouth.”

“
Dad!” I
gasped.

“
I've told you before that
your kind isn't welcome here!” My dad's accent seemed thicker than
ever.  “I see one of you out here again, I'm getting the big
guns.”

“
Dad!” I yelled. 
“What is your problem?”

He stepped out of the
house.  “Get your hands off my daughter!”

Octavius started to pull
away, but I grabbed his sleeve.  “Don't leave me.”

“
Calliope, I don't
think--”

“
Please
,” I
begged.

Octavius looked up at my
approaching dad, then back at me.  “Come with me.”

“
What?”

“
Come with me,” he
repeated.  “Your dad...he’s crazy.”

I nodded.  “Let's
go.”

Octavius grabbed my hand,
and a shot of electricity ran through me.  I felt like I could
follow him anywhere.

He began to run, and I
followed.

“
Hey!” Dad yelled. 
“Let go of her!  HEY!”

We ran to the
motorcycle.  I couldn't hear if my dad was following, since my
heart was pounding so loud I could feel it in my teeth.  But
when we climbed on, I turned and saw that my dad was still next to
the house.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

The bike roared to life,
and we drove into the night.

Chapter Twelve

The night air blew through
my hair, sending it flowing behind me underneath the helmet. 
I clutched Octavius hard, trying not to be thrown free as we wound
through the twisting roads of the Oregon back country.

Surely the passing forest
was beautiful, but I had no idea.  We were going too
fast.  We blew past harbors, stretches of forest, the
occasional little house.  Where we were going, I didn’t know,
nor did I care.  I didn’t want to let go of Octavius, and I
especially never wanted to see my dad again.

What could have been hours
later, Octavius pulled up to a boardwalk, stopping with a
jolt.  After such a long time seeing everything rushing past
me, the world was spinning.

I jumped off the bike and
pulled off the helmet, letting my hair swing free.  Tears
stung my eyes, but I couldn’t let Octavius see me like that, so I
turned my back on him.  Hugging the helmet to my chest, I
looked at the place he had taken me.

The white beach stretched
in both directions.  Beyond it, black ocean churned under a
waxing moon.

Just like my
dream.

It was beautiful, but it
disturbed me in some deep way.  The water looked cold,
hostile, alien.

I almost forgot about
Octavius behind me until I heard him set the kick stand on the bike
and the creak of leather as he came up to my back. 
“Calliope,” he murmured, rubbing my shoulders with his
hands.

“
What did my dad mean?” I
asked without looking at him.

He rested his chin atop my
head.  “Hmm?”

“
He said your kind isn’t
welcome here.  What’s your kind?”

“
I have no idea,” Octavius
said.

I turned in his arms to
look at him.  His face was so close, so pale in the light.
 The bangs over his right eye shadowed his face from the
moonlight.  The faintest hint of sparkles touched his
eyelids.  “It sounded like he knows you,” I said.

He gave a low
chuckle.  “I don’t think so.  You guys just moved here,
didn’t you?  And I’ve only been here for the school
year.”

I gazed at him. 
Octavius had such an honest face.  He would never lie to
me—that was my dad’s job.  “You’re right,” I said, leaning my
head on his chest.  He hugged me tight.

“
You want to swim?” he
asked, a hint of mischief in his melodic voice.

“
Seriously?  It’s
maybe sixty-five degrees.”

Octavius pulled back with
an impish grin.  “Not afraid, are you?”

“
No,” I said
stubbornly.  “But… I don’t have a swimsuit.”

He winked at me.  I
was growing to adore his winks.

Octavius leaned on his bike
to remove one boot, and then the second.  He dropped them, and
then unzipped his jacket.

I stared.

“
Are you…?”

He pulled his shirt over
his head and jumped off the boardwalk onto the beach.  He
dropped his tee onto the sand, baring a broad expanse of muscular
back.  My mouth dried out. 
No way
. 
Allison would never believe this
.

“
Aren’t you coming?” he
called over his shoulder, unbuttoning his pants even as he
ran.

I followed him more slowly,
watching as he dropped his jeans.  He wore black briefs. 
Why was I surprised?