There are dead flowerbeds and decaying leaves amid the lush greenery around me. The wind blows a big chunk of my dark hair and for a moment, it covers my left eye. I sigh.
I’m almost at the station when I spot a bushy bob of ginger hair bouncing towards me.
"Alex?" I say, looking up from the ground.
His pale thin face lights up. "Oi, Cameron!" He slaps my back.
"Aren’t you supposed to be in London?" I ask. He’s two years older than me. The last I’d heard of him was that he’d moved to London. Amazing how he did that, really. It’s where musicians go to make music their career. What’s he doing back here?
"Took some time off to visit the folks. It’s been hectic lately."
"How so?"
"The band just got signed!"
I cry out in shock. The band I left two years ago, when we all decided to call it checkmate, got signed? Only Alex and the drummer voted to save the band. Apparently, they did.
My chest tightens, as if the crisp air suddenly turned to smog. Ever since I saw Benji’s dad perform an epic guitar solo on stage for a reunion tour when I was nine, I knew I’d found my home. My parents bought me a second-hand guitar after that—and it wasn’t even my birthday or Christmas. I’ve been obsessed with the guitar ever since.
Face to face with Alex and his news of success now, I know I should congratulate him, but all I can think is five bands later, I’m still in the same place I’ve always been: nowhere.
"That’s…that’s great!" I finally say.
"Well, I’ve got to go. Folks are expecting me now," he says, grinning ear-to-ear. "See you around!"
"Yeah…" I reply. But he’s already walked away.
The second I step inside URadio’s HQ, I'm greeted with chatter and a jazzy guitar riff playing in the background. Judy is at the control booth. As the song wraps up, she slides her headphones down on her shiny, straight black hair that complements her tan skin.
"That was our playlist breakout of the week. Vote for it if you want it on this week's countdown!" She looks up from her laptop, and waves as she sees me.
"Look who dropped by the station today, folks." Nate, her co-host, cracks a mischievous smile. "DJ Cameron." He pushes the applause button.
I was at URadio so often during my third year of College, volunteering and assisting the crew with bookings and special guests—even picking out fresh tunes—that they eventually let me stay. At first, I was an intern. I never saw myself hosting a radio show, but the previous station manager, heard me debate and goof off with Nate and Judy and asked if I could guest at one of their shows. Next thing I knew, I'd been offered my own slot.
My program isn’t for another couple of hours, but with the way things are back at home, I’d rather be here.
"Before the break, we were discussing about how we want to leave our mark in this world," Judy says.
"Woooh!" Nate yells into the mic, his Boston accent thick. "It's a philosophical topic, but really, that's what our station aims for. To probe the minds of our listeners and get them thinking about the stuff that matters."
"Or give our listeners a major headache," I joke.
I don't think I can be heard on-air, but Nate laughs. He spins his chair to face me and pulls the arm of my chair towards the booth.
"What's your take on this, Mr. Evans?" He pushes the broadcast microphone towards me. They love to put me on the spot. "How do you want to be remembered?"
I say the first thing that comes to mind. "I want my music out there. Make a difference, maybe save a life... You know all that pizzaz that comes with being a musician."
"So, what's stopping you?" he asks.
I give him a blank look.
"You say you want to be a musician. You should be out there exposing yourself and writing songs…not stuck in here talking about it," Nate says.
"Are you telling me to quit my job on-air?" I laugh.
Nate knows I was working on a few songs with Lewis. He also knows Lewis cut the cord on me.
Judy's dark brown eyes stare.
"Damn you, Nate! I’m a frustrated musician, what can you do?" I shove him and he laughs.
"We'll give Mr. Evans more thinking time and move on to our next song, one of my favourites, ‘Naïve’ by The Kooks."
On cue, the song fades in, a perfect transition from Nate's words. The Kooks’ infamous funky pop guitar intro comes on.
Judy and Nate turn their microphones off, and face me.
"Tsk, tsk! Cussing on air. Have I thought you nothin’?" Nate gives me what he calls a bro hug: a half-hug accompanied by a back slap. I'll never understand his American ways.
"You taught him all the wrong things," Judy says.
"Don't listen to the Filipina." He clasps his hand over her mouth and tackles her to the floor.
"Very discreet, you two!" I point out, but turn my head the other direction.
Their banter is a quick distraction—a momentary shade to the glaring sun. What is stopping me from looking for a sixth band? Nate’s words echo in my head as I realise that since Lewis kicked me out I’ve been stuck. Sure, The Hush Society is inspiring and all, but I haven’t exactly done anything about it. If I try again and everything hashes, it’ll just be another reminder that the only thing I’m ace at is being mediocre.
#
Once a week, Judy and Nate’s radio segment allows our listeners to decide between two outrageous dares. The winning dare is done during the show, and afterwards uploaded on URadio’s social media wall. This week’s winning dare is binocular soccer—it’s a football game where the players have to wear binoculars. They saw a video on YouTube and thought it would be a fun dare.
Nate and I head back inside URadio as we wrap
