Page 44 of Juliet's Echo

“Oh yeah, that sounds dope. What’s the topic, and who’s on your team?” he asked.

“Yeah, about that.”

Truth was, I didn’t check the assignment when Hamburger uploaded it to the student portal. Being so distraught over the fight at Sunday’s and Choo-Choo not speaking to me, I didn’t have the stomach to do much of anything. My brother looked at me, waiting for more of a response. He wasn’t going to find that an acceptable answer, but shit, it was the truth and it was all I had.

“Echo, look, my bad. But this whole situation had my stomach in knots. You try going from the chilliest, most mystical person on campus, whose best friend is her amazingly talented and handsome big brother—”

Man, was I laying it on thick.

“—and in one night, you’re now the topic of conversation in some made-up lovers' quarrel, and your Choo-Choo isn’t even talking to you,” I whined, stomping my feet for extra dramatic effect.

Looking at him out of one eye, I smiled a little to see if my tantrum spell worked.

Echo nodded toward his desktop.

“Get to work. I’ll order lunch,” he said with a smile.

My plan was to clear the air with Echo and meet up with my friends for lunch, but because our reconnection was still fresh, I made my way to the computer. The moment the browser opened, I nearly choked.

The studio’s professional email appeared, and there were unanswered submissions from 2024.

“Um, my guy, you should consider getting an assistant. You’re two years behind.”

“So? Music never really ages,” he responded, occupied with his phone.

“But trends do. How are you going to keep up with the times if it’s this far ahead of you? I think you need to hire someone who has a strong grasp on your style and is neat, organized, and reliable. This wouldn’t even require a full-time position,” I explained.

Echo nodded in approval.

“You’re right. You start tomorrow.”

“Hell no. You ain’t slick. Getting me to work for you is just another way to keep an eye on me.”

His laughter filled the room.

I returned to the screen, smiling and still scrolling. Some of these submissions were from women offering more than just their musical talents. No, Echo didn’t manage artists, but he often paired their voices against his sound and placed the track in the right hands. He was more interested in collaborating with other sound makers.

A few more spins of the scroll wheel, and I suddenly learned why they called it doom-scrolling.

The next submission caused me to make that face Raven-Symoné does whenever she has a vision.

Sender: The Psalmist

And just like that, I was back at Sunday’s.

The confession.

The humiliation.

The fight.

It all rushed back into my mind, and I was about to throw up the lunch I hadn’t even eaten yet. Being the center of attention was never my thing, and I had never needed a Xanax quicker. But what pained me most of all was that I left him.

He stood up for me.

Got hurt for me.

And I left him.