One of the saddest things that can happen to a band is when a member decides to quit for good. I had no idea how heartbreaking it was until I broke the news to the group.

Right away, the laughter and jokes that usually filled the HQ were gone. They were replaced by a thick silence and Rose's quiet sobs. Everyone looked like they were all in a vintage photo. Clover was rubbing Rose's shoulder as a form of comfort while Nate and Clint just stared at the floor.

"Did you try to change her mind?" Nate asked.

"I didn't," I said quietly.

"You should have." His voice had taken on a sharper tone, and I felt my heart pound in agitation. I tried to stand my ground as I stated my reason.

"I'm sorry. But I didn't think it was my place to step in like that. She... Claire had genuine reasons why she couldn't continue with this."

Nate stared down at me. "What reasons? Is she mad at us?"

I looked away and began to tug at my sleeves. "She's not, but I-I don't know if I should tell you. It seemed like a private matter to her..."

We heard a thumping noise behind us, and we all turned to see Michael who had put in guitar down on the table. He turned his eyes to me, all black and exhausted and distant.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to say it."

He got up from his stool and walked out of the room. We only stared at his back. Without any of them saying a word, I knew that the same understanding had dawned on everyone else—that Claire's quitting had something to do with him.

Clint also got up from his seating to follow Michael, but Nate raised his hand to stop him. Rose made a loud shuddering exhale as she wiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand.

"I knew this would happen," she said between her sniffles. "She's been talking to us less and less, and we've been mean to her, so we can't blame her. All we can do now is to respect her decision and let her go."

"How about the competition?" Clover asked, displaying none of the sadness the others had shown.

Nate threw his hands up. "Dunno. Maybe we should back out."

"But we made a promise to Michael," Rose replied.

He scoffed at that. "Tell that to Claire. She was the one who made that promise and was the one to break it. I'm leaving," he said, shoving his drumsticks in his backpack.

"Dude! You're gonna quit, too?" Clint exclaimed, his eyes flashing in surprise.

"What? No. I'm just calling it a day. No way am I turning my back on my friends. I'm not an asshole like her."

"Oh, Nathan." Rose hit her forehead with her palm. "Just when I thought you were finally going to say something nice, you really had to add that last part."

"But the deadline for the audition piece is like in three days, and we haven't produced anything that's of quality," Clover said, still keeping her head in the game. "We've fooled around too much already."

"So who's gonna sing? You?" Nate asked with a sneer.

"Yes," I blurted out. Everyone turned to me, and Clover's jaw went slack. "She can sing."

"Autumn!"

Rose raised her hand. "I agree. Clover should replace Claire."

My sister started to stomp her feet on the ground in protest. "Nooo! Come on, guys! My voice sucks."

"No, it doesn't." I grinned and stared firmly at her cowering figure. "Besides, I've done you so many favors this week. I think you owe me one this time."

Clover's face was becoming as white as pastry dough, but she tried to mask her nervousness with a grimace. "I'm not sure if I can do this," she muttered.

"It won't hurt to try." Rose elbowed her in support. "And don't worry—I can back you up."

"Listen, this isn't the time for you guys to give up," I said to everyone. They watched me and listened to me, and for the first time, I felt courageous to speak up in a group. "This is your chance to prove to Claire—and even to yourselves—that you can still do well without her."

"Oh man, it would be crazy if she joined Ryan's band," Clint interjected. "I saw them jamming at Carter's home a few weeks ago."

Nate grunted. "Huh. I wouldn't be surprised if that bitch went against us."

"Nathan!" Rose snapped, breaking her sweet and soft-spoken image. "Stop calling her names!"

"But it's true! Claire tossed us aside like we were some fucking used tissue. She never talked to us. I don't even think she cared about us at all."

I shook my head. "She did. She loves every one of you, and she always will. That's what she said to me."

Nate shut his mouth and gulped down whatever hostile words he was going to say. Once again, the group was silent and deep in thought.

"Maybe someday we can talk about this with her," Rose said. "And when that time comes, I hope everyone—especially you, Nathan—has calmed down."

"Oh, that would take years. He's still got the temper of a five-year-old that he needs to grow out of," Clint piped up. I glowered at him, and Rose and Clover hit him in the shoulders in fear of his words adding fuel to the fire.

However, instead of getting angry like we thought he would, Nate grunted a laugh and said, "Screw you, dude. You better watch your back when you go home."

We breathed out a chuckle as the tension between us faded away.

"This may be our last gig before we graduate," we heard Michael say and we turned our heads to see him leaning against the door frame, his hands buried in his pockets. I wondered how long he'd been standing there and observing, but I was glad to see him smiling, too.

"So I'd rather us play for enjoyment," he went on. "It's okay if we don't win. What matters the most is that we've had a great time together."

And his words were enough to get everyone moving. They played and sang with all their energy, and I could still see the pain and disappointment in their eyes for losing a member, but they channeled these feelings into their instruments, making their song more electrifying than ever. Once again, I was blown away.

The session lasted about three hours with several trial-and-errors, snack breaks, and funny banters. After which, we prepared to go home. Clover took the flash drive containing their recorded song from Rose and told everyone that she'd email the file to the contest site as soon she arrived home.

The sky was painted in purple and orange colors when we walked to the school's parking lot. I liked moments like these in which the shadows were growing intense and the light of the sun was slowly saying goodbye. It was like listening to the final notes of a song or reading the final paragraphs of the book. Almost over but not yet. A bittersweet emotion swirled in me, and I wanted to hold on to that moment a little longer as I watched everyone enjoying each other's company.

The trees rustled as a chilly gust of wind blew. Sweeping my hair away from my face, I turned around and let out a small yelp. Michael was walking next to me, and he bent down a little bit to whisper, "Good job today, Marmalade. You won me over."

"What?" I asked, thinking I had misheard him.

He walked ahead of me toward Clover, who immediately froze on the spot. Although he had only talked to me for two seconds, my heart did the slowing-down, speeding-up thing, which undeniably made me breathless. While he and my sister talked, Nate approached me with an unusually awkward smile on his face. I had never realized how tall he was until he stood right in front of me. He might be even taller than Michael by half a foot.

"Uh, listen," Nate began. "I don't usually do this, but I wanna apologize for giving you a hard time earlier."

"It's okay. I understand you were upset," I said.

"No, I've had a shit day and the thing with Claire made it worse. I took out my frustration on you. It wasn't cool. Sorry."

I nodded, acknowledging his apology. His massive physique had always intimidated me, but seeing his soft side made me loosen up around him.

Nate jogged to his rusty red pickup truck and called us to hop in, so we all excitedly did. Rose, Clover, and I got inside while Clint and Michael sat in the truck bed. Clover held my hand throughout the ride. She didn't have to utter a single word that her problem with Michael was over, as her beaming smile said everything.

──────

It was eleven o'clock, and I was lying awake in my bed. My cellphone vibrated, and there showed up the name of the person I was half-expecting to talk to.

Michael: Still awake?

Me: Yeah.

Michael: Can't sleep?

Me: Every night.

Michael: Me too.

Me: Hey, I'm glad you and Clover are friends again. She's so happy, so thank you.

Michael: Don't mention it. I did it for you.

Me: Why?

Michael: Told you, you won me over. With the letter you gave me and how you talked some sense into everyone earlier.

I wanted to ask him if he was okay with Claire's decision, but I wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it right now, so I brushed away the thought.

Me: They were all Clover's words. I only helped her write her thoughts down in a readable way.

Michael: Are you a writer?

Me: I don't know. I like writing random stuff, but they're all for me and I don't publish them or whatever.

Michael: If you always write and you enjoy what you write, I think you're qualified to be a writer.

Me: That's a nice thought.

Michael: I wish I could write my thoughts as clearly as you do.

Me: Oh, no. Not as clearly as you believe. Most of the time, what I write doesn't come close to what I think.

Michael: So what's really on your mind right now?

Me: Let's see... oh, the national debt. Just one of many things.

Michael: I didn't expect you to be a funny one, Marmalade. You always look serious.

Me: Says the guy with a permanent frown on his face.

Michael: Hahaha but seriously, is it that bad? My frown?

His image popped into my mind—one version of him smiling and one version of him serious. They both looked equally fine and enigmatic. I suddenly felt weird that I was imagining him, and I shook my head to erase my mental image of him.

Me: It makes you look scary.

Michael: Haha good.

The clock was ticking to midnight, but we kept talking about the most random things. I felt like our worlds had moved a little closer, and we were talking just right next to each other in the coldness of the night. Michael was quite vague, and he didn't talk much about himself. I had to think hard about what to ask him, and even so, I only got neutral responses. But it was okay; I didn't need to probe.

I discovered that aside from composing music, he was also engaged in drawing. He liked to draw people and nature in his little sketchbook, which he always carried. I asked him if he could show me his works someday, and he said that he'd be okay as long as he got to read some of my writings. I was uncomfortable and insecure, but I agreed, anyway. I guess I just wanted to know him more through that negotiation.

We went on for another hour just texting. I didn't mind losing sleep. The conversation was worth it.

Me: It's almost one. Time to sleep. We still have school.

Michael: Not a big fan of that place, but sure.

Me: It's not that bad.

Michael: Only the smart ones say that.

Me: Ha-ha whatever. Goodnight.

Me: Same to you. Sweet dreams. And thanks for tonight.

──────

That night was one of the many nights I still think about because that was when the addiction started. I got a taste of his mind, and I liked it, and I began to crave it in the most innocent form. I began looking forward to our talks. I wanted to know all the facets of him—even the ones that Claire had feared.

Michael sent me a text again at around 5 AM. His simple good morning message didn't fail to make me giddy as soon as I woke up and opened my phone. All the random talks and the stupid jokes we had exchanged swarmed my thoughts, and they made me feel like I was walking on clouds as I prepared myself for school.

Clover noticed me smiling, and it elicited her interest in knowing the reason behind it.

"What seems to be funny?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said and reminded myself not to smile stupidly next time.

I didn't know if it was important for her to know I was talking to Michael, the boy she liked. There were times that I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't do so. I was afraid of her reaction. Or maybe I was just selfish. Because it's like discovering a hidden gem song and falling in love with it, and you don't want anyone else to know for fear that they would ruin it, so you keep the song to yourself.