My mother hovers over me with a concerned look. This is sure to waste a lot of time.

  “Honey, you look terrible. Hold on, I’ll get the thermometer.”

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Wait!”

  “Mom, I’m going to be late, practice is at seven!”

  “I don’t think you can go to practice today.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I have to be there. What will Ryan think? I’m Alex the little baby, I still need mommy to rock me to sleep. Asshole. What will Liz think? I’m Alex the total flake, making promises as a joke. No, today I’m going to make it right. Today I will be Alex, the charismatic and funny musical maestro. Today I will be Alex the admirable. Alex the desirable. I will-

  Mom blocks my path.

  “Alex, stop. You’re not going anywhere until I take your temperature.”

  //Sorry, I won’t be able to make it to practice today, I am sick.\\

  //Aww, dang. Hope you feel better soon!\\

  It’s seven. Here I am, stuck in my cruddy little room, in a cruddy little house, on this cruddy street, watching my chances disappear behind the horizon. I think about the possibility of sneaking out to practice while Mom is busy with dinner. But then, I already sent that text. Wouldn’t it be weird to say I wasn’t showing, then show up anyway? Dammit! What should I do? It’s all screwed up. Pacing around my room, I think about what I said to Liz.

  On that day, the afternoon weather had been pleasantly mild and the field was still wet from last week’s snowfall. A rowdy swarm of brass players stood in a circle, squeezing in some banter before the leader’s whistle would call them back to their spots. Unmistakably, Liz was the very anchor of this circle, and we were all gathered here to be around her.

  “He’s actually psycho!” Liz giggled.

  “Mister Fastener? Yeah, he has no chill. My sister had his class and she was dying for real.”

  “Literally, and his last test was, like, a math test.”

  “What? It’s not a math class, right?”

  “No, It’s literally a music class. It was all these random numbers under the measure and I’m like ‘What am I supposed to do-”

  Suddenly, Liz went silent, making a show of inspecting each surface of her instrument.

  “This trombone doesn't have any number keys!” She cried in mock disbelief.

  Laughter was heard around the circle. Liz rolled on.

  “Like, I already know how to play music, I don’t need to do long division to it. It’s such a dumb class, it’s actually the worst.”

  Releasing some nervous energy, Liz giggles along with the rest of the circle. I take the moment to jump in.

  “I actually know a ton of music theory, I could help you out with it.”

  Liz looks over at me with concern. It's quiet. I blurt something else.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Don’t worry, it’s really easy when you’ve done it before, I don’t mind helping at all.”

  Liz looks left and right. I look at my feet. Now, with a warm expression that could melt anyone’s heart Liz says,

  “Thank you Alex. That's really kind of you.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. If you’d like, we can take a look at it now.”

  Jealous stares burn into me from all sides, but I don’t care! She’s all mine!

  “Well, I don’t… I already turned it in. Um, maybe next week.”

  “Alright, it’s a d-” The FWEEET of the drum leader’s whistle cuts me off. We turn to face her. She puts down her whistle and begins to rattle off the agenda. Silently, I think to myself.

  “Did I almost say ‘It’s a date’? I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  Indeed I was- feverishly ideating for the whole of practice on every step I would take. It had to be perfect. I had to ensure that I could be the perfect music theory guru that Liz needed.

  And today, on the day I dreamed of, she’s sitting at practice, wondering where I went, and I’m trapped inside this stuffy room by myself with a runny nose. I sock my mattress in frustration.

  The week flashes through my mind, every moment sending a painful twinge to my lungs. Staying up late Monday to study figured bass and all its variations. I cough. Pushing my homework back Tuesday to refresh on cadence rules. I cough. Learning the history of notation- I wouldn’t want to seem ignorant, after all. I cough and spit into a tissue. I feel as if I broke my back building a house and now it’s burning to the ground.

  Liz, I really meant it, it wasn’t an empty promise! I cough, my throat aching. I can show you, Liz! I really care, Liz, more than anyone else. My pacing and my breathing become more shallow and rapid. My head is burning up. I feel like I’m being burned at the stake for the crime of being too much of a flop. God… maybe if I smacked Ryan upside the face, or… I circle around and around. Face… Maybe if I burned this fat off of my chubby face. I sneeze. My throat feels tight. Tight… Maybe if I put on the right swimsuit, on a hot day, and caught her eye. Am I hot, Liz? And if I got sunburns, Liz would nurse them, rubbing aloe vera into my tender shoulders. That would be hot. I swallow. So hot. The fire inside me swells, filling up my entire room. If these walls would crumble to ash, I’d be free. I could run right to her. Maybe if I could shred a solo for Liz tonight, or whisk her away into a lively tango. And in a moment we pull away from each other, the red twilight sun shining through between our bodies. There is such a magnetic energy between us that even a cranky, dead-eyed businessman would marvel at us. One step closer, Liz, and our fire will rise higher than a skyscraper. I hack up into a tissue again. I’m stuck in this room. It’s not happening. It’s ruined. What can I do?

  Oh god. She’s probably talking to Ryan right now. I can’t do anything. My eyes are wet, something sticks in my throat. Liz is already so far away, not even my roaring inferno can reach her. My chest hurts. It hurts all over my body. If only I could extinguish this fire, then my heart wouldn’t be burning so painfully. I pace my room feverishly. Around and around the room spins, my thoughts circling with them.

  Ryan ain’t shit.

  He can go to hell.

  Don’t talk to him, Liz.

  Talk to me.

  I promise I’ll show you.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry I broke my promise.

  I’m falling.

  And around again.

  Don’t listen to Ryan, he doesn’t know anything.

  Liz, I’ll be there soon.

  You can count on me.

  I’m just a little late, don’t worry.

  Something hits my face.

  I’m sorry, oh god I’m so sorry.

  I didn’t mean to upset you.

  And around again.

  Ryan you asshole, stop talking about me!

  Liz, you need to listen to me!

  I’m sorry!

  The floor is hard.

  I’m sorry.

  What can I do?

  The roaring flames of unrequited love surround me, licking at the tips of my fingers, charring the soles of my feet, disintegrating the ends of my hair. But as I laid unconscious on the floor, there was nothing I could do. I was terribly sick.

  A statuesque woman with rich amber hair lays motionless on the floor of a small, ornately carved canoe. An unfathomably vast ocean spreads out in every direction, deep indigo waves pushing up against the serene blue of the clear sky. As the canoe rocks back and forth over the waves, carrying its dormant passenger, a plume of black smoke rises up from the tiny vessel, like a streak of charcoal traced up across the middle of the sky. The canoe is burning, and the woman along with it. She stares wide-eyed up into the sky, never flinching. Even as the flames crawl up from under her waist, her hands remain fixed over her chest, wrapped tightly around the hilt of a ceremonial dagger. Though her eyes are open, she is dead, and this burning canoe is her sendoff. Some ways back, a fleet of bulky ships watches in mourning, as the flames spread out from the stern of the canoe. Today, the soul of Sybil the warrior will return into that great light above from which she came.

  A flaming arrow arcs down from the nearest ship and into the tiny boat, striking Sybil's lifeless body in the shoulder. In that moment, something changes. The pillar of smoke seems to topple in the direction of the fleet as a startling gust of wind whips through the sails. And underneath the roaring of the wind, a surreal voice rings out.

  “OWWW!” Sybil cries.