The Hush Society Presents... by Izzy Matias (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

the glass of our van when we arrived and she saw the refracted reflection of the sea.

"We'll never know." I shrug and laugh. "But do you really believe that? That we’d still be who we are even if we’d grown up differently?" I join her on the stony ground.

"Not a hundred percent the same, but most of who we are, yes." The sky turns from black to dark blue and Cassie’s silhouette is becoming clearer. She combs through the pebbles beside her. "If we have different parents, then yes, we’d be a complete 360. They pass on certain qualities of themselves to us. Sometimes I wonder if it were my mum or dad—my birth parents—who was the artistic one."

I nod, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts.

"But it’s also our environment," she continues. "Where we grew up, who we surrounded ourselves with—that shape us. Most importantly, the art we immerse ourselves in—the art we choose that influences us."

"I wonder," I say, "if I chose to become an athlete, would I still like the music I like or was it because I was exposed to so many genres thanks to my best mates?"

"Maybe you still would, but not the same way you do now. Or maybe at a later period in your life."

"But what about you? What if you’d grown up with a different family? Do you think you’d still be this version of Cassie?" I nudge her one more time.

"I’d like to think that somehow I’d get to where I am because it’s where I’m meant to be."

"Huh," I say and let her words sink in.

We don’t say anything else to each other, but sit and listen to the sound of everything around us, soaking in the now.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We gather on the mattresses on the floor and gobble down our breakfasts. Lily’s parents are set to arrive from their flight a couple of hours before the show. It’s her first time hosting The Hush Society in Brighton and she’s doing it in her loft. Being in this room for more than twelve hours is sort of like a pre-show preparation—getting more than acquainted with the place.

"I’m thinking fairy lights and candles—the whole shebang!" Lily explains to Cassie.

I haven’t heard anyone use that word ever. I stifle in laughter.

"Fairy lights? That’s so cliché!" Eric says from the other end of the room. He’s concentrated on beating his high score in Plants vs Zombies 2.

Lily blushes from embarrassment. I glare at Eric for his insensitive comment, but his nose is buried in his iPhone.

"It’s your show, but I’m a little skeptical about the candles," Cassie says, ignoring Eric’s comment. "We wouldn’t want to burn your house down."

"Point taken. Maybe—err—just the fairy lights then."

"It sounds so Pinterest-like," Amber says, chewing loud on her cereal. "Perfect for photos and snaps."

"Yes! Another creature who knows their social media, thank you," Benji says to Amber. She rolls her eyes.

Eric and I are not heavily into social media, so Benji doesn’t get that social-media geek partner in crime he longs to have.

I borrow Benji’s extra notebook as I don’t exactly carry one around, even though I know I should, and scribble down a few lines to process the last twenty-four hours. Music’s my way of processing experiences and making sense of what’s happening. When a line hits, I grab whatever’s around and use it as a blank sheet of paper: tissue, receipts, flyers, table mats, you name it. I’ve got lots of "paper junk"—as Tamara calls it—in my room.

Today my mates and I debut as The Fortunate Only. Are we ready for this? It’s been my top one question for the last couple of days, even though we’ve been practicing non-stop since the day my mates and I agreed to form a band.

What if we’re terrible compared to the other local talent here? What if the Brighton crowd doesn’t welcome us?

Everyone will know that I’m complete rubbish. They’ll be rubbing it in my face—no wonder his previous bandmates left him five times. Serves him right because of a lack of talent.

I can’t mess this up.

I let the fear flow to my fingers and transform the nervous energy into notes, melodies that speak of the darkest corners of my mind. The melody forms in my head and then I remember how music helped Lily through a panic attack. Music is my outlet, but what if I want it to be something more than that? Words bubble into lyrics. I write and rewrite them to fit the tempo.

I close Benji’s notebook satisfied with the progress and make a mental note to show it to him and Eric later.

I spot Amber walking towards the grand piano. "Play something," I shout from my spot and she jumps as if being caught in the act.

"How do you even know I play?" she quips and I smile back.

"Why would you approach the piano if you didn’t play?"

"Cheeky!"

"Where’s everyone?" I ask, noticing the empty room. Guess I blocked out more than I thought while I was writing: movement, sounds, thoughts.

"Out to grab supplies for tonight and making sure everything’s in order. Weren’t you listening?"

"Naw."

Amber sits at the grand piano. She stares at it a while, almost statue-like… as if she’s scared.

"You do play, don’t you?" I ask in a quieter tone.

"I used to."

"What do you mean you used to?" She looked fearless jumping off the pier yesterday. Now…it’s like there’s a different person in front of me.

"It reminds me so much of who I was before—that anorexic. It’s stupid, I know. Music’s supposed to be my solace, right? But what if it’s also what reminds me of my destruction?"

"How?" I ask, trying to comprehend her perspective. I never thought music could be two sides of a coin.

"My father…he plays the grand piano and forced me to take lessons. He plays every day for an hour before bed. He kept telling me I was fat. I associate the instrument with him, with his hurtful words."

"Don’t you see, this is the perfect