“GunsN’Roses—*SweetChildO’Mine*and*CivilWar.*Andonemore:Slipknot—*DoNothing/Bitchsp.*”
Themomeitlelefthismouth,Cra’sbrowsklyline.
Theairintherehearsalroomseemedtofreezeforafewseds.Cralookeddownatthebckfive-stringbassinherhands,thenliftedherheadagain—herexpressionnowopenlysaying:*Areyouinsane?*
“Senior,”sheshotbackcoldly,pointingatthepostersonthewallbehindher,“doyouevenknowwhatmybandpys?WepracticeShiinaRingo.MikaNakashima.I’musedtoJ-Rock—thekindthat’sornate,melodic,obsessedwithlinesandprecisetiming.”
Shedrewih,fdownthesurgeinherchest.“GunsN’RosesispureAmerihard-rockgroove.And*CivilWar*—thespeedinthebackhalf?Forabassist,that’sbasicallystaminasuicide.AndSlipknot…”Hereyessharpehat’sal.Thoseviolent,boungrhythmsandthatextreme,sinkingtone—ifIpythat,myhandsaregoingtobewrecked.”
Herresistancehadareason.
WhenshepyedJ-Rock,herleft-handfingerswerecoveredinthickcalluses—butitwasakindofdelicatebor,trolledandprecise.Slipknotdemandedexplosivefordbrutalenduraogeherteiqueintwomonthsandgrindherselfintothatkindofphysicallimit…herskinwouldsplit.She’dbleed.She’dcramp.
“Iknowit’shard.”Eliansteppedforward,thecareless,amusedattitudedisappearingfromhisface.Hisbrighteyesheldhers,andsomethingfeverish—unarguable—burnedinhisvoice.“ButI’vewatchedyou.Whenyoupyafive-string,thepressureinyourlefthandisstrohanmostgirls’.Yoursenseofrhythmissteadylikeametronome.”
Heloweredhisheadslightlyandleanedcloser,droppinghisvoicesoonlythetwoofthemcouldhear.
“Inthiswholeschool,onlyyourfive-string—onlythatLowBstring—carrythebottomlesshellfrequen*DoNothing/Bitchsp.*LinChu-Qing初晴,ifyouchoseafive-string,itmeansyouwereisfiedwithpyingonly‘goodgirl’melodies.Twomonthsofhelltraining,inexgeforallthefreedomyouwantafterward—areyoubraveenoughtogamble?”
Crafroze.
Shecaughtthefaintsun-warmedsagain—butwhatmadeherheartbeatskipwasn’tthat.
Itwasthewayhiswordshittheexactsecretshekeptburied.
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