Will's Story

To my brother, Ken—one of the good guys.

Blue lights flash

A girl by my side

My brain's half-baked

What a hell of a ride

The patterns in my textured
ceiling aren't doing their usual “let the buzz die by finding hidden faces” trick. All I can think about is Amber Vaughn walking home on the shoulder of the road as I three pointed the hell away from the blue lights flashing in front of her house.

Shit. Smooth, Will.

Amber Vaughn is not my girlfriend. But Amber Vaughn is the one I just had sex with. What's even worse, or at least right up there with cheating on your actual girlfriend, I didn't bother to drive her to her door. I let her out on the curb like a piece of trash. To be fair to myself, I really didn't expect any of it to happen. It was just a ride home, a moment to chill. I mean, the girl
had
been given
a detention on the first day of school. I was only trying to cheer her up by driving to the bald, pulling out my banjo, lighting the pipe. In the two years we've known each other, never once have we tried to hook up.

I groan. And grin. Then . . .

Fuck. My brother will hate me for treating his best friend like that.

It was a panic move, pure and simple. If that deputy parked in her driveway had figured out I was stoned and word got back to my dad, the shit would fly fast and furious and my life would be screwed. It's bad enough having concerned parents but add in the paternal career choice of judge and you are doomed to a life of great expectations and people, specifically those dreaming of their own day on the ballot, up in your business.

Screwed.

I close my eyes and think about the earlier part of the afternoon. The way Amber's voice tangled with my banjo chords. The way her body felt knitted up next to mine. That moment of no return or better yet, her moment of consent, and damn, my lucky right hand travels south more than ready to let me relive the best part of my day.

Devon flings open the door.

“Dude!” I yank my hand back.

“Were you . . . ?” Devon laughs until he sees my face.
He steps into the room and shuts the door. “What the hell, man. You're stoned? On the first day of school? Are you trying to end up grounded till you graduate?” He throws his soccer bag into the bathroom that connects our rooms.

If I was brave, I'd tell him right now.
Bro, me and your friend Amber? Well, we went up to the bald, played some music, talked a little, smoked a little, and well, she's pretty cool and one thing led to another and . . .

“Did you give Amber a ride home?”

What the hell? Is this brother mind meld or something?

He quickly clarifies. “Plain and Small, I mean.” His specificity is needed. My girlfriend, the one I haven't done the deed with, is also named Amber.

I scoot up against the pillows and grab my banjo from its stand. I'm not sure why my brother calls his Amber, Plain and Small. She's anything but. The girl has a voice like Patsy fucking Cline and a body that doesn't quit. But Devon would never notice that body, not his thing. I run the first phrase from “Dueling Banjos.” “Yeah, man, you told me to, right?”

“Jesus, Will. I hope you weren't baked.”

“Quit being Captain Safety, Dev. Anyway, me being baked is the least of that girl's worries right now.”

“What are you talking about?” My brother folds into
my desk chair, I guess making himself comfortable to hear me play.

I pick out a little rhythm, finding comfort in the twang that my friends in our old Raleigh neighborhood love to mock. My guitar was cool. This banjo, not so much. Should I tell Devon the whole story? Shit. I can't. The other Amber, my Amber Rose, will be furious. More than furious, she'll be hurt. And Devon won't let me take my time to figure out what to do. He'll push me into a breakup or honesty or something that will have her crying and me feeling like the most colossal dick on the planet.

“Her sister was in the process of getting arrested when I dropped her off.”

“What?” Devon scoots forward in the chair.

I shrug. “Yeah, cop car, lights flashing, handcuffs, the whole nine yards.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

He pulls out his phone and I freeze. Is there a chance Not So Plain and Small will tell Devon about what she and I did?

Like some kind of mad karma, my phone rings. My Amber. Amber Rose Slagle, the girl who, for whatever reason, sees me as something more than a fuckup, is waiting for me to answer. And I cheated on her. Granted, our
relationship is pretty brand-new, but I never thought I'd be
that
guy. I'm relieved when Devon gets up and heads to his own room to give me privacy.

I stare at the phone. To answer or not to answer. Crap. The sooner I talk to her, the easier it will be. Whatever that means.

“Hey.”

“Whatcha doing?” Amber Rose is pretty much the cheeriest girl on the planet. And why wouldn't she be. She's got an amazing family, she's gorgeous, she makes decent grades without trying, and already knows exactly who she wants to be in life. I'm still kind of flabbergasted she agreed to go out with me.

“Nothing much. Messing with my instrument.”

“Will!”

I grin. It wasn't what I meant, but her reaction is pretty perfect. “My banjo, Amber Rose.”

She giggles and the shit feelings hit me square in the gut. No girl deserves a douche boyfriend. I try to bring the confession to my lips. I beg off the call instead. “Hey listen, can I call you later? My mom needs my help in the other room.”

My life, which I'd been boo-hoo'ing to her about the day on the lake when we first connected, is finally turning a corner. Dad, though still convinced I'm a fuckup because
of my unfortunate tangle with that dealer, Sammy, is only seventy-five percent pissed at me now. I've got a girlfriend my parents approve of, and except for the occasional slow burn on a Monday afternoon, I really am steering clear of anything but recreational relaxation.

So why the hell did I hook up with Amber Vaughn?

She's been hanging out with Devon for two years, and yeah, I mean, sure I've noticed her, how could I not? But it's been in more of a “you're my brother's cool friend” way, than in a “let's talk about you and me” way.

Today was a fluke.

Had to have been.

An old country tune

A wide gym door

Got to open your eyes

To see what's in store

Spanish class and I can't
stop thinking about the wrong Amber. In the commons before the bell, the right Amber'd had her hand tucked into my back pocket, her slender body snugged up against my arm. Then, the wrong Amber walked by, confident and self-assured. All soft and curvy. Sexy as hell. I need to breathe that thought away or I won't be able to walk to the assembly.

But who am I kidding? When Amber Vaughn stopped and pivoted. When I thought for sure she was going to call me out right there in the commons, all she did was lift her chin, crack a smile, and say, “May the Force be with you.” There was no longing on her face. No wish for me. Nothing at all to make me believe that the thing
yesterday had meant anything. Not that she's one of those girls who hooks up like that for regular weekday kicks. She and Devon have been friends for too long and I've heard Dev talk about their ongoing and seemingly unsuccessful search for love. As far as I know, neither one has seen much action and I've never really seen her dating anybody.

So what was yesterday about? I don't know but I thought I'd be able to read something on her face when I saw her today. Figure out my next move. But if she's acting like it was no big deal, pretty much ignoring me if the truth be told, maybe I should drop it. Maybe she regrets it.

Maybe I sucked.

I drop my head into my hands and circle my thumbs on my temples as Mr. Martinez drones on about irregular verbs. This is messed up. I under-the-desk text Amber Rose.

Hey, meet me at the doors to the gym

It's almost time for our assembly, this cool college access day where schools come and set up booths and stuff. Her reply is immediate.

:) !

Sure enough, she's waiting on me when I get downstairs and any unpure thoughts I'd had about Amber Vaughn get pushed to the side. Amber Rose wraps her arm through my elbow and does that thing where she hugs up
against me. I notice a few people looking our way which doesn't help my confusion. Her dating me, well, it's fixing my stoner loner reputation. And though you couldn't have told me I'd ever care about my rep, it honestly feels kind of good to be accepted by the locals.

Two years ago, when we'd first moved to Sevenmile, aka Podunkia, I'd been freaked. Then pissed. Then downright angry. Figured as long as Dad was going to make us live out in the back of beyond, I might as well stay fucked up. I'd tried to get Devon to spiral down into stoner-dom with me, but he'd found Amber Vaughn, and even though being gay sure as hell hasn't been easy in a town this small, having her as a best friend seemed to make it all right for him. Me? I chose to stay baked. And I'd bought the banjo. It was an ironic gesture that—in its own fit of irony—bit me in my latent bluegrass-loving ass.

The thing about Amber Rose is she's definitely a got-it-together kind of girlfriend. Bringing her home to meet the 'rents was the first glimmer of forgiveness from my dad for my tangle with the local felons. And now I've pretty much fucked it up before it's even really started. What kind of asshole cheats?

“Which college tables do you want to go to?” Amber Rose interrupts my thoughts, sliding her arm from my elbow to lace her fingers with mine.

“I don't care. You?” The gym's crowded. Mostly small private colleges, a few state schools, all giving away free stuff.

“Jess said they have cool water bottles at the ETSU table. And I definitely want to stop by and say hi at the Lees-McRae table.” Amber Rose has no doubt in her mind where she's going, Lees-McRae, or what she's studying, physical therapy. I like that about her, the confidence and self-assuredness. So maybe we don't have a whole lot in common besides our palms touching, but I'm going to roll with it. Besides, from the way Amber Vaughn
didn't
look at me this morning, I'm pretty sure that's not going to be a thing.

We load up on key chains and sticky notes at the Lees-McRae table. The admissions officer uses the “boyfriend/girlfriend” tactic on me, and under Amber Rose's hopeful smile, I take his packet of information. At the ETSU table, Amber Rose jumps right in to get what she wants. “Water bottles?”

“Sorry.” The guy manning the booth is a chino-wearing, bandana-less, Willie Nelson-looking dude. “We ran out a few minutes ago.”

“Come on.” Amber Rose tugs on my hand but I've spotted something behind the table near the guy's stuff.

“You play?” I nod my chin toward the case sitting on
the floor.

The guy smiles and pulls a well-worn cherrywood fiddle out of the case. “Like a damn obsessed fool. You?”

I take a step forward. “Yeah, banjo.”

The guy tucks the fiddle under his chin and raises his bow, slipping into a sweet little G minor scale.

Amber gives another tug on my hand. I let go and step even closer to the table. “‘Man of Constant Sorrow'?”

The guy breaks out into a grin. “You got that, huh? So you
really
play.” It's not so much a question as a confirmation. “Here.” He pulls a sheaf of papers from a stack. “Our Appalachian Studies program. We have a minor in country, bluegrass, and old-time music, but with any luck it's about to become a four-year major. You interested?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Amber Rose twisting her hair, but this feels as important as Lees-McRae is to her. “Totally.”

The guy hands me a card. “I'm Beau Raskin. Some students do a little open mic thing on Sunday afternoons at the Fiddle Picker in Bristol. Come on by and bring your instrument. See what it's all about. If you're interested in the program, your guidance counselor can help you with the paperwork.”

“Cool.” I slide his card into my wallet and fold over the paperwork he handed me, tucking it into my back pocket.
“Maybe I'll see you this weekend.” I hold out my hand. “I'm Will. Will McKinney.”

The guy shakes my hand with one and claps my shoulder with the other. “Good to meet you, Will. Look forward to hearing you play.”