The Hush Society Presents..., Izzy Matias [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

CHAPTER TEN

Mum rings me every day to check up on me. Sometimes we meet up ‘round Beverley, but after a week without me at home, she convinced me to come by the house when Dad’s at work. I do miss home, so I visit every day in between my part-time jobs, even if only for an hour. Today is the last of these kinds of days for a while.

My old guitar case is sprawled open on the floor. I stuff my dark cotton shirts, trousers, and leather boots—whatever I can carry with me for the rest of the summer—in a duffel bag next to my guitar case. All I really need are my guitars and I’m good to go. Mumford & Sons are on full blast. I imagine my bedroom walls vibrate in sync to the beat.

These last couple of weeks at Eric’s, we’ve spent all our time practicing for the tour. We’ve had complete focus on delivering a tight set at our debut in Brighton. Once we get there, we’ll be staying with Lily—the hub manager of Brighton—who is also debuting The Hush Society in her house. I’m told it’s a converted warehouse.

We couldn’t decide on a band name for weeks, but yesterday had a breakthrough. After hours of arguing, we decided on The Fortunate Only. It’s a line from Benji’s favorite song, and somehow it just stuck.

I pack light since we’ve all chipped in money—based on Cassie’s forecasted expenses—to rent a van for the summer tour with each of us taking turns driving. Though our first stop is in Brighton, we are to meet in Manchester since Cassie, Ella, Dan, and Amber live there.

When I told the lads at URadio about my decision to leave, they offered to let me keep my job when I came back. But I declined; I have to commit to musicianship full time. "It’ll be waiting for you in case you change your mind," the head of URadio said. Judy and Nate promised to come watch at least one of my gigs, and in turn, I promised to put them on the guest list.

"It’s not fair, is it?" Tamara’s usually loud voice is soft. I didn’t hear the door open.

She’s been angry with me ever since my announcement—even after I was kicked out. Mum and Dad were at wars, too.

I glance at her boot-faced expression and wonder if she is here to pick a fight with me. My shoulders tense up as I face her.

"I’ve thought a lot about this life-changing decision of yours." She walks over and moves my acoustic guitar to make room for her as she sits on top of my bed.

"And?" I ask, hopeful.

"It’s not fair I get to go after what I want and you don’t. I get that now, but I wish there was a way that it didn’t have to make our parents go into a massive fit or get you turfed out of the house." She says, folding the shirts on my bed.

I sit down beside her. "Don’t you think I feel the same? I hate it. I absolutely hate it when they fight, but I need to do this for me. It sounds selfish, I know."

"I understand," she says and squeezes my arm. "You take care of yourself and prove Dad wrong so at least something good comes out of this. Maybe when he sees he’s been proven wrong, he’ll have to let you back home."

"What do you think I’ll be doing out there?" I ask to cross her.

She rolls her eyes, but then smiles.

"It’s scary knowing that if I make a right mess of things, I won’t have a home to go back to." I look at my guitar case, wondering if it’ll ever come to that. This is my last shot. I can’t blow it up.

"You have us, Cameron. Dad’s being Dad. He’ll have to let you back home eventually." Tamara gives me a soft smile. "Don’t forget your big sis when you’re selling out at the O2. I expect nothing less than an all-access pass."

I laugh. At least she’s teasing about it already. I’ll be gutted if I leave and we’re on bad terms.

She pulls me in a quick, tight hug and whispers, "It’ll be quiet without you in the house causing a ruckus." And then she dashes out of my room.

A bolt of sadness overwhelms me as I realise what I’m leaving behind, even if only for a couple of months. Things are already different and I haven’t even left for tour yet. As if to further drive this point, I catch Timmy’s big eyes peeping in.

"Come on, Tim-tam." I signal with my head for him to enter.

He hesitates. "Can’t you study and play music at the same time?" There’s conflict in his eyes. "You used to do it all the time. Dad will have to let you come home."

"Sorry, Tim-Tam. I have to do this, but I’ll be back in three months." Even though I smile, I know I’ll carry the weigh of his statement with me when I leave this place.

Three months away from my family. Apart from the three weeks I’ve been staying at Eric’s, the longest I’ve been away from them is a few days, for a music festival or out-of-town trips with mates.

It’s exciting to think about. Complete freedom.

"You’ll do anything it takes to get into the University of Oxford, wouldn’t ya?" I ask Timmy.

He nods, his eyes registering understanding.

"It’s the same for me with music. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work. And If I don’t, at least I did my best." But I try not to think about what will happen if I don’t make it. Or not being able to come back home.

Timmy doesn’t say anything, but runs to me and hugs my legs. I bend down to meet with him on eye-level and return his bone-crushing hug.

"You take care of Tamara and Mum, ya hear?" I say as I pat his head. He hates it when I