“But that’s my strongest finger,” I say. “That’s melody. I need it to be loud. I almost always pick melody with my index.”

“Try with your middle finger,” he counters. “Don’t get stuck in a rut. Flexibility, Peters. Ever hear of it?”

“Fine,” I say, and I go through it once, slowly. He’s right. It frees up the rest of my hand so it can continue with the pattern.

It takes a while to retrain my fingers and get the inflection right, but when I do it’s perfect. Trent’s been watching the whole time. “There you go,” he says, a grin spreading across his face.

“Thanks,” I say. I continue once, twice, over and over until my muscles remember. One tricky part down. Four to go.

He sits next to me on the church steps and looks away, down the sidewalk. “Sorry,” he says. “About the jam session.”

I nod tersely, remembering Ana draped across the back of his beanbag chair and my angry storm out of his house. I was kind of hoping it would never be brought up again.

“Hey I went to the craft fair!” he brightens up. “Didn’t see you. When’d you go?”

“Friday afternoon.” My face finds a smile as I remember the evening.

“Looks like you had a good time,” he says.

“I did.” I play through the sequence again and again. Perfectly.

He waits but I don’t elaborate. It really isn’t any of his business.

“Cool,” he says finally. The front door swings open.

“Pastor Mark’s ready, guys. It’s almost seven,” somebody calls out. “Quit making out already.”

“Ha-ha,” I say. I pick up Bender and swing my backpack onto my back. Trent reaches down to get the guitar case. He came to rehearsal empty-handed because he uses the church’s stand-up bass. It is seriously hard to transport those things.

“I’ll get this,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Why is he being so nice? I make a grab at the door but he catches it and holds it for me. I start to walk through.

“Hey, Robin,” he says. I turn around. “I really am sorry,” he says. “It’s just… hard. To learn to live without you, you know?”

I smile. If this music thing doesn’t work out, he could always work for Hallmark, the sappy dork. My guard lowers. “Yeah, I know.”

His face brightens. “So what do you say… ?” He takes one almost-imperceptible step forward, more of a shift in energy than weight. “You wanna try again tonight? Jam session? Just me and you?”

My smile turns a little sad and I shake my head. “No, sorry Trent.”

He nods. “Okay. Okay, yeah. No problem. I get it.”

I walk into the church, turn off the ringer of my phone (don’t want a repeat of last practice), and go to my spot on the stool at the front of the church.

Whenever I look at my music, I see a woman hearing for the first time. Whenever I hear the stand-up bass, I see Trent’s eager smile. When I pluck at the strings, I feel Carter’s heart beating against my hand as I signed “I love you” into his chest. My fingers trip. The sequence is wrong again. Zero tricky parts down, five to go.

Finally rehearsal is over. Dodging Pastor Mark, I pull out my phone to find a text from Carter: “Double date Friday? Bring Jenni?” is on my phone.

“Double date?” I text as I wander over to my guitar case. “With Jenni and who?”

“Robin?” I hear Pastor Mark say. Didn’t dodge well enough, I guess.

“Yeah?” I chirp. I toss the phone onto my closed case and walk up to him, Bender in hand.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” I nod, conveying confidence I don’t feel.

“You just seemed really distracted tonight. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m just… with the job and everything… haven’t had time to practice.” I shrug and try to look apologetic.

“All right… just remember that we’re counting on you. This whole song is you. That’s it. You set the tone. Do you want me to give the solo to somebody else?”

“No!” I almost shout. “No, please, Pastor Mark. I can do it, I really can. Next week I’ll sing, I promise.”

He sighs. “Okay. But remember. If you’re not focused, nobody’s going to be focused.”

“Sure. Absolutely. Focused,” I say, nodding too fast. Why the heck is Carter talking about a double date? The only person I can think of is Barry, since they had a lesson tonight, but would he really subject Jenni to that?

“Good then,” he says. “See you in two weeks! Last one before we perform. You’re singing, the choir’s called… it’s the real deal.”

“Yeah! See you then. It’ll be better. Promise.”

I wave, leaving Pastor Mark with an anxious smile on his face. I’ll be ready next time. I will.

I turn to put Bender away and see Trent standing over my guitar case, staring at my phone.

“Double date?” he says.

“Trent!” I storm up and snatch the phone out of the case, shoving Bender in and slamming the lid.

“It makes so much more sense now. Why you won’t hang out with me. Why you’re all spacy in rehearsal. Are you still hanging out with that deaf kid?”

“What?” I say. “Ana, your favorite microphone-wielding one-girl fan club didn’t tell you? We’re not only hanging out. We’re dating now. Like, in a relationship dating. Why the heck are you looking at my phone?”

Trent’s lips tighten and he crosses his arms.

“Oh, right. ‘It makes so much more sense now.’” I copy his phrase, making him sound like a stoned surfer. “Ana ditched you. Now all of a sudden you miss hanging out with me.”

He rolls his eyes but his face softens for a second. “Come on, Robin. I really do miss you. You left a hole in my heart, you know?”

I snort. “A hole in your heart? Poor baby.”

“Fine,” he continues, voice harder. “If you’ve made your choice, you’ve made your choice.”

I kneel, zipping my case closed. “Thanks so much for your permission.”

“Can’t wait till you come to your senses, though,” he says. “A relationship without music? For Robin Peters?” He shakes his head and laughs. “What’ll your song be? Oh wait, you won’t have one. No proms, no street buskers, no concerts, no duets, no slow dances, no making out to Neil Halstead… Seriously, Robin. Think about the songs I wrote for you. Or when I asked you to prom by busting out the guitar in English class and singing ‘The Luckiest.’ Or when I got all the choir guys to sing you ‘Sweet Caroline’ on our anniversary. Or when we were chosen for ‘The Parting Glass’ duet last year. Or when we’d just skip study hall and hide out in the auditorium making shit up.”

I wave him off, but he’s right. “Maybe those were the best things about our relationship, but maybe that’s why it failed. Because that’s all we had.”

He shakes his head. “And you have so much more in common with a rich Chautauqua New York City kid, deaf or not? Whatever, Robin. Let me know when you want to jam again sometime.” He turns up the church aisle.

“Hey,” I call after him. “Don’t touch my phone again.”

“Sure thing,” he says over his shoulder, giving me a sarcastic thumbs-up.

I stand up, yanking the handle of my guitar case and Bender tumbles to the floor. “Shit!” I scream through clenched teeth and the word echoes through the sanctuary. I glance at the remaining folks. “Sorry,” I say, and my phone buzzes.

“With Barry,” is the reply from Carter. “Please? Please just do this for me? I owe him.”

I groan. This is going to be a hard sell.

I take a deep breath. “Jenni!” I start texting and then stop. It will take more than a text to convince her. Probably even more than the other half of my kingdom. I sigh, find her number, and raise the phone to my ear.

Chapter 22

Carter

We bump over the grassy lot and park at the end of a long line of cars. “Where are we?” signs Barry from the driver’s seat.

I turn to him and grin. “This is Midway Park,” I sign, spelling carefully so he doesn’t miss it.

“I can see that,” he signs, pointing to the huge colorful sign. Even in a second language, sarcasm is the first thing he learns.

“It’s an amusement park,” I sign slowly. “For little kids.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“It’s going to be fun! It was Robin’s idea!” I try for enthusiasm, but I have my doubts, too. The average age seems to be about five years old.

“We should’ve just gone to the Iron Stone,” Barry signs with a little help. He gives up and grabs a notebook. “I should have insisted on an evening date. There is nothing romantic about a little kids’ amusement park at ten in the morning.”

“Too late now,” I sign. “Try to have fun. Here they are!”

Robin’s old Subaru is slowly lurching toward us. After a second, she and Jenni get out. Robin’s wearing shorts and a tank top with sandals on her feet. Both she and Jenni have big sunglasses on their heads and their hair pulled back in ponytails.

Barry elbows me in the arm and I look over at him.

“Hot!” he signs.

“I know!” I sign back. “I told you.”

“Sorry, man,” he signs. “Didn’t trust you.”

We get out of the car and Robin gives me a good-natured scolding look. She’d seen the exchange between me and Barry. I grin. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to have people be able to understand my conversations. Not for long, though, ’cause next week Denise and Jolene are coming in from New York.