Chapter 2 – Sidekick

A month in New York didn't make things lighter yet. But at least Ally found a rhythm.

Every morning, the city woke up in shades of muted grey and pale gold, and every morning, Ally left her parents' penthouse fifteen minutes earlier than necessary, her feet retracing the same path down the avenue toward the vintage hotel steps.

The street set had become a fixture. New Yorkers in dark coats were always moving, always staring straight ahead, except when checking their watches, now slowed down more often. Some stopped at the edge of the curb, mesmerized despite themselves.

Steph stood under the warm glow of the hotel's exterior light, holding her battered microphone like a lifeline. She was singing an original track. It was something raw, laced with heavy minor chords and slow, bruised lyrics about late-night trains and missing calls.

She wore an oversized vintage bomber jacket hanging off one shoulder, her pale hair pulled back into a messy, half-pinned knot. Her smudged eyeliner gave her a dark, hypnotic look.

Ally leaned against the cold stone railing at the base of the steps. Her phone camera was ready, but lowered. She was just watching.

As the last acoustic chord died out in the humid morning air, Steph lowered the mic. Her breath hitched. More people had watched her this time. But her blue eyes locked onto Ally with an easy warmth that made Ally's stomach flip.

Steph dropped onto the step right beside her, the faint scent of stale cigarettes settled between them, mixed with her usual floral scent and leather.

"So?" Steph murmured, bumping her knee lightly against Ally's. Her lips curved into a tired but gorgeous grin that made Ally's heart stutter. "That second verse shift you suggested... I tried it. Did it sound stupid?"

"Well, did it feel stupid?" Ally raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Hm..." Steph pretended to think about it. "Maybe..."

But Ally shoved her shoulder with an amused chuckle.

"It sounded like it belonged there," Ally said, reaching into her pocket. She held out a thin, braided leather strap with a silver skull bead. "You dropped this earlier when you adjusted the mic stand," she added quietly.

Steph let out a low laugh, taking the bracelet.

Her warm fingers brushed deliberately across the palm of Ally's hand. It was a lingering, subtle contact that sent another shiver through Ally.

"I'd lose my own head if it wasn't attached," Steph muttered, sliding the leather back over her wrist.

"I noticed," Ally smiled, keeping her voice low. "You've almost left your guitar picks behind three times this week."

"Four," Steph corrected, her voice softer now. She tilted her head, gaze dropping to Ally's lips for a second before rising back to her eyes. "Thanks for sticking around, Ally... Just Ally."

Ally rolled her eyes at the teasing.

"You will never drop that, won't you?"

"Never," Steph promised with a grin. "But seriously."

"Can't pass on a good song set, can I?" Ally said quietly now.

"Yeah, but... it's not just that." Steph glanced toward the street, her expression darkening slightly as a cluster of students from their school walked past, pointing and whispering among themselves. A pink coupé, Becca, drove past them, and Ally thought she saw Becca and Steph glancing at each other briefly. It could've been nothing, but something in Steph's gaze darkened further. "Everyone else at school... they look at me like I'm some kind of zoo exhibit. They stop by, take pics for their feeds and then hide and gossip, and laugh..."

"They pretend they're laughing," Ally said firmly, placing a gentle hand on Steph's arm. Steph's muscle tensed under the touch, then slowly melted. "But they still stop to listen. They're obsessed with you, Steph. They just don't know how to handle it."

Steph held Ally's gaze for a long moment. The noise of the avenue seemed to completely drop away. Her blue eyes were deep and searching, and intensely focused on Ally's face, like she was trying to read a language she hadn't spoken in years.

"You're too good for me," Steph whispered, but a faint smile touched her lips. She pulled back with an exaggerated sigh, breaking the spell before it grew too heavy. "Come on. If we're late again, Ms. Elliot's going to execute us in front of the class."

Sprinting down the hall, they made it to room 302 with two minutes to spare. Ally slipped into her seat near the back, catching the glare from Becca, who was sitting near the windows in a perfectly tailored blazer, her sharp fingernails tapping a rhythmic yet annoying beat against her iPhone screen.

"Look who decided to join the working class," Pete whispered from behind Ally's chair, leaning forward with a wide grin.

"Barely," Ally murmured, turning around.

"Tyler's spiraling," Pete said, nodding toward his friend who was furiously arranging deck sleeves across his desk. "He bought the new Scales Hunter expansion, but he refuses to run it without a heavy knight engine."

"Because running Scales Hunter without knight support is tactical suicide!" Liz chimed in from the row ahead, spinning around in her seat. Her dark curls bounced, her silver rings clinking as she gestured wildly. "Ally, tell him. You know strategy."

"He needs four gear cards first anyway," Ally offered with a faint laugh. "Otherwise the passive effect is worthless."

"Thank you!" Liz declared, throwing her hands up.

Steph sat next to Ally, her bag thrown onto the floor. Her posture had immediately closed up, arms crossed, eyes fixed up ahead on the blackboard. The easy, warm intimacy from the hotel steps had evaporated, replaced by her usual defensive shell the second she had crossed the threshold into the school.

Ally looked over, sensing the shift. She leaned sideways, shoulder almost touching Steph's.

"You okay?" She asked softly.

Before Steph could answer, a hand lightly tapped Ally's shoulder.

Pete leaned over the back of her chair. His tone was casual, but there was an eager, hopeful edge in his eyes.

"Hey... so a few of us are grabbing street tacos after school today, then heading over to my place to test out the new cards. You wanna come? I can give you a ride."

Steph's head snapped toward them. Her jaw tightened, her blue eyes narrowing into a sharp, almost possessive glare as she looked between Pete and Ally.

Ally froze. She felt the sudden tension radiating off Steph like heat from a radiator. Her heart gave an unexpected thump.

"I... uh," Ally stuttered, her eyes flicking to Steph's stiff posture before landing back on Pete. "I have plans today, Pete. Maybe next time?"

Pete's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly with a light nod. "Sure. No problem, Al. Offer stands."

Beside her, Steph let out a slow, barely audible exhale, and uncrossed her arms. She didn't look at Ally, but the faint corner of her mouth twitched upward.

The school band room in the basement smelled like dust, old valve oil and wood polish. Late afternoon sunlight cut through the high, barred windows in narrow beams of amber light.

Steph sat cross-legged on the scuffed wooden floor, a notebook resting on her thighs. Her fingers picked at an acoustic guitar, playing a moody, three-chord loop over and over.

Ally sat on the edge of a nearby piano bench, phone resting in her lap, watching the light catch the silver hoop in Steph's left ear.

"Pete seems nice," Steph said suddenly, not looking up from her notebook as she violently scribbled out a line of lyrics.

Ally blinked in confusion.

"He is."

"He likes you."

"As friends..."

"No," Steph's voice turned low, darker. "Not for him."

"We're just friends, Steph."

Steph shrugged, though her fingers dug a little harder into the guitar neck.

"He's safe... I guess, and normal. You should give him a chance."

Ally set her phone down on the piano with a dull clack.

"Where is this coming from?"

"Nowhere." Steph stopped playing. The silence in the room became heavy. "He makes you laugh."

"So do you," Ally said softly.

Steph paused. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, but she buried it almost instantly, shaking her head.

"That's different, Al."

"How?"

Steph closed her notebook with a sharp thud. She looked down at her boots, voice dropping low into a whisper.

"People around here already think I'm trash. A disaster waiting to happen."

"This again?"

"Yes," Steph said, her eyes rising to meet Ally's. The raw vulnerability in them was almost painful to look at. "I'm scared if you keep hanging around me, they'll start treating you the exact same way. I drag down everything I touch."

Ally didn't hesitate. She slid off the piano bench, walked across the room and dropped to her knees right in front of Steph on the hard floor. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around Steph's wrist. She felt the pulse beneath her smooth skin.

"I don't care about them. I can handle it," Ally said, her voice steady.

Steph stared at her, breath hitching.

"Ally..."

"No, seriously." Ally nudged her knee with her own, her eyes soft. "You asked me to help you pick your set list for the venue this Friday, remember?"

"You don't have to get dragged into my mess."

"Stephanie Vance, I already promised you I would," Ally said firmly, her thumb brushing in a small reassuring circle against Steph's wrist before she let go. "And I don't break promises."

Steph studied her for a long, breathless moment. Briefly, Ally could see the crack in her walls as she met her gaze. There was something desperate, but deeply affectionate underneath.

"You're completely insane, you know that?"

"So? Does that mean you're letting me ruin your set list?"

A beautiful laugh escaped Steph. The sound was so rare that it made Ally's heart swell.

"I guess I am," Steph murmured, picking up her pick. "Fine. Listen to this bridge and tell me if it sounds too angry."

"I always tell you the truth."

"I know," Steph whispered, her eyes lingering on Ally's face as she struck the first chord. "That's why I need you."

An hour later, the sharp thwack of tennis balls hitting ground echoed across the outdoor courts behind the school gym.

Ally adjusted her grip on the borrowed racket, her breathing tight and even. Across the net, Jade served a fast, heavy topspin ball. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Her dark curls were tied back.

Ally slid into position, shifting her weight and driving a forehand deep into the back corner of Jade's side.

Jade sprinted, barely reaching it and chopped it into the net. She wiped her brow with her wristband and burst out laughing.

"Okay! What happened to I used to play a little?"

"My mom made me play three hours a day back home," Ally said, offering a sheepish grin as she walked to the net. "It was either tennis or etiquette classes."

"Thank God, you chose tennis," Jade grinned.

She leaned against the net post. "Coach Ramirez is already weeping tears of joy. He thinks we actually have a shot at regional doubles now."

From the adjacent court, Becca caught bits of their conversation. She bounced her tennis ball once, twice, then slammed her serve into the net. She glared over at Ally, her jaw tight.

"Seriously, what's her problem?"

"Ignore the princess," Jade muttered under her breath, turning her back to Becca. "She thinks she owns this place, 'specially the athletic department because her dad sponsored the new scoreboard."

"I'm still getting used to it," Ally said quietly.

Jade eyed her thoughtfully for a second.

"You're hanging out with Stephanie Vance a lot lately, aren't you?"

Ally paused, grip tightening subtly on her racket.

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," Jade said. "Steph's real... like she never seems to fake anything and that's rare around here. Just... watch yourself when you decide to stay around her."

Ally furrowed her brows.

"Why?"

"There's rumors she and Becca have a weird, bitter history... don't know. But Becca hates seeing people getting along with Steph. Wouldn't be the first time Steph's new friends decide to switch schools after running into Becca."

Ally closed her eyes when the shower washed away the last bits of shampoo. Her hands went through her hair. Her mind wouldn't shut up about what Jade had revealed about Steph and Becca. They had history, apparently, but what kind? Ally sighed, trying to shake off the thoughts.

By the time she finished showering and changing in the locker room, the sun was sinking low.

She was zipping up her gym bag when the door swung open.

Becca stepped inside, flanked by her two usual shadows. Trisha chewed a gum, eyes moving up and down Ally's body, scrunching her nose lightly. The other was Lisa, expression unreadable.

They stopped right in front of Ally's locker.

"So," Becca said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Ally slung her bag over her shoulder.

"So?" She asked.

"You're really doing this, huh?" Becca folded her arms.

"Doing what? Can't you use your words?"

Becca slammed a locker door shut beside Ally's head with a loud thud that was meant to scare. But Ally barely flinched, though her eyes widened subtly.

"Playing sidekick to that local disaster," she snapped.

"Steph isn't a disaster," Ally replied, her tone turning icy in a way it was even rare for herself. "She's talented. Which is probably why you can't stand looking at her."

Trisha, behind Becca, gasped softly at that. No one ever dared to talk to Becca like that.

Becca narrowed her eyes in a dark, dangerous way. She took a step closer, reducing the space between them until Ally could smell her suffocating expensive perfume.

"You think you're smart, don't you?" Becca whispered, voice venomous. "You come in from your little redneck town, play the quiet girl and think you understand how things work here."

"I know enough," Ally returned, holding her ground.

"You know nothing. You don't know anything about Stephanie," Becca snapped, a flash of ugly, genuine anger slipped through her polished mask. "She uses people for her fame and finds someone new when she gets bored after dragging them into her depressing little orbit."

"That's not who she is."

"No? Did she tell you yet what happened last year?"

Ally was silent. She bit her lip. Becca seemed to have noticed.

"Ask her what happened," she sneered, her voice dropping lower. "Ask her why nobody talks to her anymore. When she ruins you, don't say I didn't warn you."

Becca spun on her heel, her designer boots clicking sharply against the tiles as she stormed out of the locker room. Her friends scrambled behind her, and the door slammed shut. Silence returned. But now it felt cold and heavy.

Ally stood alone in the empty locker room, heart hammering. Becca's words echoed in her mind, and so did Jade's from earlier. But as she thought of Steph, scrawling lyrics in the dusty band room, letting her hold her wrist with that soft, desperate look in her eyes... the doubts suddenly dissolved into fiercely protective determination instead.

Her buzzing phone pulled her out of her thoughts. She took it from her pocket.

Steph:
Friday. Strings'n'Stews. 8pm.
Don't be late.
Just Ally :P

A soft, unstoppable smile spread across Ally's face. She typed back instantly.

Ally:
Wouldn't miss it for the world.