It was only 9:30 on a midsummer’s Saturday night and Illyana was already in her pajamas. What a lame way to spend the evening but what else was she going to do? There was no band practice while Alanna was still out gathering intel on corruption in the competition and Alarie was out of town. Illyana and Leona used to hit up the fun house in downtown Scandalica City on the weekend. Those memories made her heart pang with bitterness. Leona was a traitor.

She had her notebook on her lap and was writing down lyrics to a new song she had written, at least that was productive. They had been practicing a song for the battle of the bands that she and Leona had written together but now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to use that anymore. It was such a great song by itself but felt kind of wrong to have someone else sing it.

The shrill ringing of a phone nearly made Illyana jump out of her skin. She stumbled out into the hallway and grabbed the cordless phone off its wall charger, darting back into her room. She didn't know why she was so quick to make the noise stop, it wasn't as if anyone was home to be bothered by it but her.


“Hello?”

“Illllllyana,” she heard Nick Hart drawl her name out of the receiver.

“Nick?” she hissed, mildly bewildered; he hadn’t called her in years and still remembered her number?

“Yeah hey, so…I was wondering could you do me a solid and come pick me up?”

Her mind reeled in anger, from their encounter at the Laundromat a couple of weeks ago. How dare he ask her for any solids after he insulted the way she played guitar!

“Why?”

“Long story short—I’m grounded—” Illyana couldn’t help but to roll her eyes. Typical Nicholas. “But there’s a band playing at Sweet Marie’s tonight and I wanted to see their set.”

Her face fell into an indifferent, stoic expression, something of a habit she picked up dealing with Nick’s cavalier and overconfident attitude as he grew into puberty, “You’re kidding.”


“Why would I kid about that?”

Her tone turned sharp, “Because you could get Cypress, or Orion or any other person to pick you up. What are you calling me for?”

“They’re both acting weird and I don’t want to bug them. Besides you like music, you could come see the band too!”

“I don’t think so,” Illyana scoffed

“Come on, I’ll owe you a favor. Please?”

She hesitated; that wasn’t too bad of a deal to have a favor in her pocket. Her contemplation was too long for Nick because she heard his annoying chants of 'Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?' coming out of the ear piece. Plumbobs, he was so immature.

“Shut up. Fine. Meet me in front of your house and try not to get caught sneaking out.”


She pulled on a t-shirt and some capri pants, not bothering to take the extra time to put her hair up in their regular buns since she wouldn't be in public. It would not take long to get to his house, and then Sweet Marie’s was about a 30-minute drive north to Memosa Bay. She grabbed the keys to the Jeep and headed out.

As soon as she pulled up to the house, she could see a white blur — Nick, presumably — sprint across the flagstones of the front lawn to try to avoid the windows and outside lights that would have exposed him to his parents view.


As soon as he found himself on the other side of the stone wall and facing the street where Illyana had parked, he straightened up, brushed his hair from his face, and then gave the vehicle a dissatisfied look, “You’re driving this hunk of junk?”

“By the Great Green Diamond, get in and shut up,” she responded in the same indifferent tone she had used before. He cranked the door handle and the Jeep’s whole frame lurched as he put his weight in the front passenger seat. He raised his brows in an ‘I told you so’ expression which she ignored.

He only smirked and tried to buckle the seat belt before finding out that the latch was broken and let it go with an exaggerated sigh. She got it. He hated the Jeep.

She rolled her eyes and shifted gears.

“What did you do anyway?” She asked after they were on the highway, after ten minutes of her giving him the cold shoulder, “To get grounded?”

“I Tricked Uncle Adagio into reading Marilyn Manson lyrics instead of a poem at Grams' funeral.”

“Grams died?!” Illyana nearly swerved into the oncoming lane as she took in the news, shocked that she hadn’t heard. Nick was equally as shocked, his fingers on the dashboard in a death grip—life flashing before his eyes.

She remembered Kimmy Hart well, a sweet old lady who baked them cookies after they came home playing at the park or who provided them piano music for them to dance around to. She was always there, and the closest thing to a grandmother Illyana had since her own died when she was just a baby. The last time Illyana had seen Nick’s grandmother was at the grocery store, not even a few weeks ago, where Kimmy gave Illyana such a big hug and asked her how she was despite the fact she had stopped coming over for years. Tears welled into her eyes without her consent knowing that Kimmy was gone forever and she never got to say goodbye.

"Watch where you drive, Jeez," Nick’s teased with a roguish smile, but it dropped at seeing her devastated face, “I thought you would have heard by now, the way news spreads around Isla Del Kashmire.”

“I’ve been busy,” Illyana wiped at her eyes, but knew Nick had seen already. Then without warning, she started punching him in the arm aggressively, punctuating her words between hits and keeping her eyes on the road. “You! Never! Take! Anything! Seriously!”

“Wha—?” he tried batting her fist away before she could give him any more bruises.

“Marilyn Manson is not an appropriate reading for Grams’s funeral, you douche-canoe.”

“It was funny!”

She didn’t reply and only gave him the cold shoulder of silence for another ten minutes before breaking it.

“Are you even sad she’s gone?”

“Of course I am, the lady was a saint and I miss her like the Hells, but I can’t waste all my time being mad or sad about things. Unlike you.”

“What the frack is that supposed to mean?!” she snarled.

She hated how his mouth always took on that stupid, annoying smirk, even then. She had the urge to slap it off but straightened her shoulders and resigned herself to the fact he wasn’t going to answer and he only said it to bait her into a flare of anger to prove his point.

“I should turn around and take you home. You deserve to be grounded.”

“Come on, don’t be like that! Besides we’re basically here,” he pointed at the exit for Memosa Bay.

She begrudgingly agreed and soon enough, pulled up to Sweet Marie’s with a glare that told him to ‘get out’.

“You drove all the way here and you don’t even want to see the band?” he asked after exiting and leaned against the open window.

“What do they play?”

“Folk Metal.”

“Is that even a genre?” she knotted her brows doubtfully.


“It is now,” he turned his back to her and began walking toward the entrance. He smirked to himself as he heard her driver’s side door open and close. Curiosity had gotten the best of her.