Midnight Sun Page 11

  “Ready for dessert?” Charlie asks.

  I nod.

  “Okay then. Hold out your hand and close your eyes,” he commands.

  Charlie pours a pile of something into my cupped palm. “You can open up now.”

  I stare down at my hand. In it is a pile of Skittles, like the ones he kept trying to return to me the first night we met. I smile up at Charlie.

  “I got moves for days,” he says. “Hey! We’re almost here!”

  I look out the window and see the Seattle skyline coming into view. I don’t know where I thought we were going, but this is even cooler than I ever could have imagined.

  “Seattle?! Cool!”

  The train comes to a stop and we get off. Neither of us really knows where we’re going, and I’m pretty sure Charlie’s agenda was just Let’s hit Seattle and figure it out when we get there. We find ourselves wandering along the waterfront. Everything about being here is new and exciting, and it’s honestly enough for me to just be looking at the glittery span of parks and piers that seems to go on forever.

  I gape at all the sidewalk cafés dotting streets that wind around in a seemingly endless maze. Despite its being after what I would assume is most kids’ bedtimes, there are a lot of them still out eating with their parents. Guys with tight pants and hipster facial hair peck away at their laptops in coffee shop windows. Couples out on dates toast with glasses of champagne.

  But what really blows my mind is how many people are out performing in the streets. Back in Purdue, I was always the only one. Here in Seattle, it seems like everyone has a talent.

  On one street corner, a magician rips a hundred-dollar bill into a million little pieces. And then poof! It’s back together again. In the park, a pack of shirtless guys are doing the coolest break-dance moves I’ve ever seen, twisting themselves into pretzels, spinning on their heads, doing endless backflips over one another. There are these people dressed as statues who don’t move an inch no matter what you do or say. I know because Charlie and I tried to get the guy dressed up as a silver-toned Michael Jackson to laugh and he didn’t even crack a smile. So we took a picture with him instead and left a few dollars as a thank-you tip.

  And then there are the singers. So many singers, with such beautiful voices. I’d have a heap of competition if I lived here, so I guess I should be glad I don’t. Too bad my mind keeps chanting: LET’S MOVE HERE! TAKE OUT YOUR GUITAR AND JOIN IN! ADD HARMONIES AND SOME FINGER PICKING! I feel like I’ve found an instant community, people to collaborate with and harmonize with and talk music and songwriting with until the break of dawn. It’s all just waiting here for me.

  Charlie and I stop to admire the Olympic sculptures in Pioneer Square. Watch the fishermen hauling buckets of huge skate, perch, and salmon at Pike Place Market. We slide into an old-timey photo booth tucked into a corner and get cozy inside. The machine flashes four times: We smile, make goofy faces, hold up bunny ears behind each other’s heads, and throw our arms around each other and kiss. When the strip finally comes out of the machine a few long minutes later, it’s well worth the wait. I grab it and claim it as my own.

  “I’m going to treasure this forever,” I tell Charlie. I’m not kidding.

  He takes my hand and leads me down another busy road and through a deserted alley. We stop in front of a rickety building with an old-fashioned marquee above the door. There are no letters on it, no announcement of a movie or show or whatever. I don’t get it.

  Charlie looks at me with a huge grin on his face.

  “What is this place?”

  “Your surprise,” he tells me.

  Charlie hands two tickets and a bunch of cash to the bouncer. Even though the sign on the door clearly states anyone entering needs to be twenty-one, the big burly guy doesn’t bother asking us for IDs. Which is a good thing because my real one says I am eighteen, and I left it on the kitchen counter at home anyhow.

  “I thought Seattle was my surprise?”

  He shakes his head and grins harder as we walk inside. Charlie hands my guitar case and jacket to the girl at the coat check. Another bouncer opens a door to let us into another room.

  Inside, music pounds. Lights explode. The place is packed from the makeshift stage—where one of my most favorite indie bands in the entire world is already playing—to the back of what appears to be a former warehouse space. A sweaty, happy crowd throbs to the beat.

  “It’s a secret show!” Charlie yells into my ear. “I found out on Snap yesterday and grabbed tickets for us. I know you said you love this band!”

  “I do!”

  “Your first live show!”

  “OhmyGod, it’s so cool!” Though the huge drafty room is nondescript, the people and vibe are anything but. I’ve never seen so many colors of hair, so many tattoos, so many piercings in so many places IRL. It’s like the pages of the music magazines I pore over in my room suddenly came to life. I’ve found my people. My tribe of fellow creatives. Who knew they were so close all along?

  I whirl around, stunned that things like this actually happen in the world. There’s so much I’ve been missing locked away in my room, in my little town, in my little existence. There is so much more out here for me, and it’s so much more vibrant and exciting than the elaborate re-creations of real life my dad so lovingly built for me when I was growing up, like the savannah in the basement and the beach he set up in the attic, complete with a hot tub, pool toys, and life-size photos of seagulls and dolphins and sharks and whales. I make a vow to myself here and now: I’m going to grab every last little bit of everything this world has to offer. I will not be a prisoner of my disease a day longer.

  I realize that not only do I need to have a talk with Charlie, but that a long one with my father is way overdue, too. I know now that I can do way more things than I thought possible before tonight. Maybe even a real, non-online college. Somehow. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I have a will of steel.

  While I’m thinking big thoughts and taking in the sights and sounds of this amazing place, Charlie weaves his way through the crowd, with me hanging on to his hand and trailing behind. He writhes through people like a sneaky serpent, finding little pockets of space we can fill undetected. Before long, we’re right in front of the stage. Bonus points because no one even got mad at us for budging basically an entire concert’s worth of people to get there.

  I turn to Charlie, beaming. He grabs my hips and we start dancing a way cooler version of the middle school grind. There is so much action going on, so much to watch, but all I see now is Charlie. No one and nothing else in the world matters at the moment.

  The band kicks into a real rocker, and the whole place starts jumping, one pulse uniting the diverse crowd. Charlie and I start jumping around like maniacs, too. I’m lost in the electricity of the music and the energy of this place. I’ve never felt so alive before, and it hits me that I might never get to experience anything like this again. I try to commit every last detail to memory. Every last second.

  Long before I want it to, the music ends. We grab my coat and guitar, and head back out to the piers. I am still so buzzed from the show, it feels like I’m walking on water instead of sidewalk.

  “That was amazing!” I yell, probably a little too loudly. It’s hard to tell what level my volume knob is at right now—my ears are still ringing from the concert.

  “I know,” Charlie says, grinning widely.

  I throw my head back and whoop even louder. “Live music is the BEST!”

  Charlie laughs. “I know!” he yells back at me.

  I stop and take his hand. How can I express how he’s changed everything for me, from the fact that I never believed a guy could like me because of my disease to what I now believe my future could hold for me? I fumble around in my mind, trying to find the right words. Finally, I settle for a simple “Thank you.”

  Charlie gives me this adorable curious puppy look, all floppy hair and playful eyes. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking even though
he can’t possibly. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now for your turn.”

  He gently places my guitar case on the ground and unlocks those finicky latches. Then he positions it perfectly to catch coins and hands me my guitar. I step back, holding up my hands in front of me.

  “What? No. No way.”

  “You owe me a song,” Charlie tells me.

  I’m shaking my head. “I can’t do that… here.” This isn’t tiny Purdue, Washington, this is big-city Seattle. I’m not prepared to debut one of my songs here. Not tonight. Not yet.

  “Yes, you can!” Charlie encourages me. “Live shows are the best! You said so yourself!”

  “Are you hungry?” I say, patting my stomach. “I’m hungry, and you’re always hungry and remember all those awesome cafés we saw back there?”

  “Katie,” Charlie says. He sounds so serious, so sincere, I stop talking. “We can either be in a new city under the stars and you don’t play me a song, or we can keep making this the best night of our lives.”

  He shrugs. He’s so freaking cute. I feel my resolve melting. What he’s given me is so much more than a three-minute song. Singing one for him hardly makes a dent in what I owe him after tonight.

  “It’s up to you,” he tells me. “Don’t worry about anything else. This isn’t about what I or anyone else wants. It’s about what you want right now.”

  What I want to do is make this incredible guy happy. So I give in. I reach for my guitar and sling the strap over my shoulder. Charlie’s entire face lights up.

  I give the strings a few good strums. When I look up from my guitar, Charlie’s got his phone pointed right at me. He’s ready to record this moment so it’s captured forever. I get instantly self-conscious and my nerves kick in.

  “Charlie, don’t—”

  He smirks and gestures to the nonexistent crowd behind him. It’s basically one weird hairy dude who stopped to tie his shoe. “We’re waiting!”

  I see that he’s right; there’s nothing to lose here. Not even my dignity. It’s just Charlie and me. There’s nothing we can’t do together.

  So I start strumming some chords, softly at first. I’m still feeling a little unsure of myself. But then it’s like muscle memory takes over, and I forget that Charlie’s recording me. I’m imagining what it would have been like to be onstage tonight instead of in the crowd staring up in awe at the band. The nervous embarrassment exits my body, and in its place comes a supreme confidence in my abilities.

  I close my eyes and sing my latest creation, the one I played for Morgan the other night. Once she finally got over telling me about Garver and paid attention, she really liked it and thought it was the best one yet. I hope she’s not mad at me anymore. I really need to tell her I’m sorry when I get home. I sing my heart out—for Charlie, for Morgan, for my dad, but most of all for me.

  When I open my eyes again, I see Charlie grinning from behind his phone. He’s like my good luck charm. The only thing I’ll ever need to succeed.

  I strum the last chord and realize Charlie’s not the only person who liked my song. There’s a whole crowd of people I didn’t even realize were there, clapping and cheering wildly for me. And while my fans nowhere near amount to the people in the warehouse at the secret pop-up concert tonight, I get a good taste of what it’s like to have my music appreciated by more than just my dad, Fred, and Morgan.

  I like it. I love it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to crave a lot more of this in the future.

  Charlie throws his arm around a guy who is still clapping after almost everyone else has stopped.

  “YEAH! Come on! Give it up for Katie! WOOOOOOOO!”

  He shakes the guy’s shoulders like their team has just won the World Series. The guy gives Charlie a weird look, drops a few bucks into my guitar case, and walks off.

  Charlie smiles at me. And I can’t stop smiling back.

  17

  The train ride back is uneventful but fully awesome. Which is to say we make out the entire time. No one else is in the car, no one is watching us, and we take full advantage of our solitude.

  When we get back to Purdue—which seems even tinier now that I’ve experienced Seattle—I’m just not ready for the night to end. I text my dad like I promised.

  Back in Purdue. Home soon.

  Good night? he texts back.

  The absolute best.

  Stay out as long as you want, Peanut. It’s true, you’re not a child anymore. I trust you to stay safe and take care of yourself. Charlie is a lucky guy.

  Thanks, I text back, happy tears filling my eyes. You have no idea how much that means to me.

  We get in Charlie’s truck and start to drive. I put my phone on do not disturb and sign out of Find My iPhone, asserting my newfound independence and reveling in my dad’s hard-earned trust.

  Tonight helped me see exactly what I want out of life: my independence. To make my own decisions, my own mistakes, my own way in this big awesome world. I got this.

  Charlie and I drive to the beach. We park, then walk slowly down the shoreline. We’re in no hurry to get anywhere.

  “You were incredible tonight,” he tells me.

  I make a face like Come on now. He’s basically starting to rival my dad as my number one fan. It’s very sweet, but also kind of mortifying.

  “Seriously,” he continues, undeterred. “I probably would’ve said you were good no matter what, but you’re really good. You have to do something with your songs!”

  I’ve been thinking the same thing all night. A great plan is beginning to form in my head, and it includes my moving to a city; going to college, whether it’s only for night classes or researching all the tricks other people with XP use to live a seminormal daytime life; and being a regular, normal student like everyone else. Playing every street corner and open mic night I can find, hoping to be “discovered,” but if not, simply taking every opportunity to feel as incredible as I did when I was performing an hour ago.

  Music is in my DNA, along with the markers for XP, and I want to share my songs with the world. After tonight, I’m pretty sure that’s what I was put on this earth to do. That it’s my mission in life. That’s how I’ll prove I was here even after I’m gone.

  And the best part of the future I’m imagining is this: Charlie is in it. I hope he’ll be swimming at Berkeley. Is it so crazy to think I could go to school there, too? I’ve got the grades and the test scores, and they’ve got the incredible academic programs and performing arts opportunities. I’m sure something could be worked out to accommodate my special needs. It’s the perfect plan.

  I stop walking. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” he asks.

  “To go swimming.”

  Charlie blinks, surprised. “What? No. I don’t swim anymore.”

  “Yes, you do,” I tell him. “You just haven’t swum in a while. And I’ve never been in this water before, so you’re gonna take me.”

  Charlie shakes his head. “Seriously, I don’t want to.”

  I stick my hands on my hips. He is not getting off this easy. He can’t ruin our perfect future together by not cooperating. “I didn’t want to sing! You made me!”

  “That was different,” he says, staring down at the sand.

  “No, it was not!” I stomp my foot for emphasis.

  Charlie laughs. “Easy there, kiddo. Do you have any idea how cold that water is?”

  I stare out into the dark ocean, then back at Charlie. I actually have zero clue, other than the hint I’ve just been given. But it’s too late to back down now; too much rides on what happens next.

  “Charlie. We can either have come all the way to the beach under the stars and we don’t go swimming, or we can jump into this water and keep having the best night of our lives. What do you want to do? Right now?”

  Sure, I stole his own speech and turned it around on him. Whatever it takes. As they say, all’s fair in love and war.

  Charlie gives me a smirk like he thinks he’s won
this particular battle. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  I smirk right back at him. “Neither do I.”

  I pull my T-shirt over my head. And then I’m standing in front of him in my bra and jeans. His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t move. He’s calling my bluff.

  I toss my sneakers in the sand and shimmy out of my pants. It’s too late to back out now. I’ll keep peeling off layers until he agrees.

  “Are you coming?” I ask, running toward the water in my underwear.

  I turn around as the first wave laps my toes. They basically go numb. I’m not sure how I’m going to make myself dive all the way in; all I know is that it’s going to happen. Charlie already has his shirt off and he’s struggling to get out of his shorts. I laugh at his sudden enthusiasm.

  I turn back toward the water, take a deep breath, and go charging in.

  “OH MY GOD! It’s freezing!” I whoop.

  Charlie throws his head back. “I know!” he yells, and runs in after me.

  Our happiness echoes off the ocean. I feel like it knows we’re meant to be together.

  “Do you like to swim?” Charlie asks me.

  I shrug. “I guess. I mean, I don’t have all that much experience.”

  His mouth falls open like he can’t believe I’m so deprived. “We have to change that. When are we ever going to be in another situation where I genuinely have moves? Here. Let me show you some.”

  My heart quickens in the darkness. “You’re going to show me your moves?”

  “Yep,” he says, grabbing me and basically laying me down in the water. And then he’s holding me there, his touch gentle but firm.