One Night Only (Season 1: Deni's Story)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The group text with my bandmates that began with the news about no one working with Dallas or being involved with what happened at our concert turns into making plans to get together. It will be the first time we've all seen each other since our ill-fated rehearsal weeks ago.

We should just jam or something, Kara suggests. I miss all of your faces. Well, I miss Deni more than I miss Key, but whatever.

We all know you miss me the most, Key responds. Pool party at my place? Or movies? Or something?

Dylan answers next. Count me in, but only if Deni is there. I don't know if I can handle you two and all your bickering on my own.

There's more chatter from the three of them discussing the best days to get together, movie picks, and what type of food to order or bring. As I scroll through their banter, it hits me just how much I want to see them. I can't remember the last time we spent this many weeks apart.

And so, at the encouragement of both Mom and Dr. Delacruz to ease back into my life and be among friends, I find myself at Key's door three days later, my guitar case in hand.

Key answers the door less than a minute after I ring the doorbell, but his greeting is cut short when a blur of lavender hair and exuberant shrieks pushes past him and nearly knocks me over.

"Deniiiiiiiiiii!" Kara flings her arms around me with so much force that I nearly drop my guitar case.

"How much sugar have you had?" I tease her.

"This is what happens when she has time off from taking out all of that energy on her drums," Key says. "You know this. It's like hanging out with the Roadrunner or some other kind of cartoon."

"Someone has to liven things up around here," Kara huffs. She tugs on my arm. "Come on. Dylan is already here and inside. It's time to literally get the band back together."

"Don't I get to give Deni a hug?" Key complains.

"Nope. You snooze, you lose." Kara flips her hair over her shoulder and pulls me past him, through the foyer. She veers to the left and takes me to the living room.

Dylan is in the room, and so is my band's gear. The sofas and tables have been pushed to one side of the room. Dylan's guitar, Key's bass, and their amplifiers are out, and Kara's drum kit is set up in the middle of it all.

"Did you get your drums from our rehearsal space and bring them here?" I assumed Kara would bring her electric kit or bongos or something, and not go all out with her full setup. The texts made it sound as though this would be a casual get-together where we might play some songs or we might not, versus an actual rehearsal.

"If we're going to jam, we're doing it right," she says. "I got a little excited about it."

She slides onto her stool and picks up her drumsticks, then starts hitting her drums. Key walks into the living room with his hands over his ears.

"Cut that out for a minute," Dylan calls over to Kara. "Give Deni a chance to say hi and catch up and eat some food or something before you start up that racket."

"Says the guy who plugged in and played a never-ending guitar solo the second he got here," Kara retorts, but she puts the drumsticks down.

"I was entertaining the neighbors while we waited for Deni."

"Your hair entertains the neighbors. Your shredding probably just gave them a headache."

I listen to the two of them trade joking insults, all the while feeling like a spectator at a ping-pong match. I missed this, and I missed them.