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

around us: the saline aroma, the warm breeze, the sun’s rays, and the sultriness against our skin. I wish the weather were always like this. All that’s missing are some ice-cold bottles of beer.

I pull out my guitar from its case. Letting the rush of the moment feed my fingers and take over my consciousness, I close my eyes and strum away.

There’s a song coming on. I stoke the metallic strings, ready to translate this moment into music.

Eric hums along to my melody and pairs it with rhythmic tapping. My eyes flash open. Benji has his tattered red notebook out—his song-writing pad—and scribbles away. I smile at how in sync we are. There’s something about this place, this new beginning we need to document through song.

Lily, Amber, and Cassie jump in on the moment, snapping their fingers, and nodding to the beat.

"What if you switch up those chords from the bridge to the pre-chorus?" Amber suggests and I try it out.

"Nice, thanks," I say, satisfied at how a simple tweak can elevate a song.

"You’re welcome," Amber says.

I’ve never written a song in front of an audience before. If I stop to think about it…it’s terrifying putting out my emotions in public, the same way busking does…and yet, I find myself pushing my limits. Not wishing or comparing myself to others, but actually putting myself out there for who I am.

A couple of people glance at us from time to time, but the children stop and stare. Their faces are full of wonder. This is the purest form of feedback our music can get; young kids say what’s on their minds, whether or not it hits you gobsmack in the face and topples you over. They say it like it is.

That’s when I have an idea. I put my guitar on the ground and walk towards the nearest child. He looks like he’s about seven years old.

"What’s he doing?" Lily asks. Her voice gets softer as I walk farther away.

"With Cameron, sometimes, you never know," Eric answers.

The kid looks up from his paper plane and stares at me.

"Hi. My name is Cameron," I say. "What’s yours?"

"Adam."

"It was nice of you to stop and listen to our song, Adam. What did you think of it?"

"It reminds me of pizza—my favourite food."

"Oh yeah? I’m glad to hear that. Thanks." I almost ruffle his hair but stop myself. That would definitely make me look like a creeper.

A loopy smile forms—it’s a different feeling altogether to have honest feedback. He isn’t saying that to please me or to be nice. He doesn’t even realise he’s complimented me in his language.

I head back towards my mates’ expectant faces. Instead of telling them the why, I say simply, "Adam likes our song."

Cassie gives me a shy smile before turning her attention to Amber.

We spend the rest of the afternoon mucking about in the beach mostly at Eric’s wild ideas. We swap stories with each other. Benji films us. Cassie doodles on her sketchpad, but whatever we’re doing, when the time comes, we all stop to marvel at the sunset.

#

We arrive at Lily’s place in high spirits, our skin still smelling like the sun. As we head down the road to a more secluded street, we approach a tall brick warehouse with thin, dark blue windows.

"Don’t tell me—your parents are artists or something," Eric says as we approach a mountainous building.

"No. Mum’s an environmentalist architect and Dad’s a banker," Lily replies, blushing. "What makes you say that?"

"He’s stereotyping artists—like it’s our ultimate dream of living in a warehouse or something," Cassie says and rolls her eyes.

Eric puts his hands up, as if he’s a robber caught in the act.

"So what is this place?" I blurt out.

"It’s a converted warehouse," Lily says.

"Told you!" Eric looks at me, smug. He sticks his tongue out at me.

"How does that work?" Benji asks.

"They built them!" Amber responds, shoving Benji to the side. "Obvs."

"Yes, thanks for pointing that out." Benji laughs.

"Oi! The equipment!" I chastise Amber. Her mucking around—particularly when directed at Benji—could cause collateral damage to our instruments.

"What I meant was if they had to build walls to separate the rooms," Benji says.

"Wait ‘til you see it!" Lily exclaims with pride. She searches her sling bag and her hand emerges with a huge key. It looks like it’s intended to open a large vault, so of course I’m expecting doors relative to the size of the key.

Lily leads us to the right most corner, stops in front of a small wooden door, and lets us in. Everyone reacts the same way as soon as we step inside: mouths agape, anime eyes, and exclamations of awe.

There’s a second floor at one corner of the house and the brick walls have been painted white to make the place look bigger than it actually is. The brick archways are covered in multi-coloured, see-through curtains. Most of the ground floor is a united space—no sections between the living area, dining room, work station, and kitchen.

"I’m in love with your home," Cassie squeals, and her fists are clenched in excitement. "I could marry it right now!"

My eyes follow her gaze.

There is art everywhere. I was so busy getting an overall feel of the place that I didn’t notice the abundance of paintings on the walls or the sculptures incorporated into every area of the house. The way they’re positioned makes the house feel homey instead of a posh art gallery.

"Calm yo’ self, girl!" Amber pats Cassie and then holds her by the shoulders, redirecting her in Lily’s direction.

"I told you," Eric exclaims again. "Artists always go for the warehouse thing."

"Oh hush. You’re ruining my moment!" Cassie swats him away and we laugh.

"Are you sure you’ve got room for us, eh?" Eric teases a still-blushing Lily. Either this is her normal state or she fancies Eric big time. But he’s not one to tone down his cheeky state even if he knows a gal fancies him.

"Of course. They’re not rooms per se, but, err—we’ve got a