“Mind if I tag along?” June asks. “I need to get some new strings and I’d rather keep my money local than give it to Jeff Bezos.”

“Sure!” I say as Mom says, “I’ve got enough seats in the car.”

We gather up our things and head out to Mom’s car. I text Anya and the group chat with a happy update. It’s only a couple blocks away, so we’re at the music store in no time and I won’t be late for my first lesson. June and I climb out.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me, honey,” Mom says. “I’m proud of you and I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mom,” I say. “I’ll talk to Anya and we’ll find a time to get together with you again.”

The bell on the door tinkles as June and I walk into the music store.

“Hi!” Kelly says brightly. I walk over to the counter and she whispers, “What do I call you?”

“Lark. I wasn’t exactly planning on doing this today, but I just couldn’t do boymode today, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it. Who’s your friend?”

I introduce June and Kelly. “June needs some guitar strings,” I say, “so I’ll let you two talk about that. I gotta go teach.”

“Have fun! I think your student is waiting for you in the back,” Kelly says. “Oh! Bill wanted to talk to you when you have time.”

“I don’t have anybody in my second slot today, so I’ll talk to him then. Do you know what it’s about?”

“Sorry, no. He’s in his office right now. I’ll let him know if I see him before you do.”

I’m already anxious enough about coming out to students and parents, so I try to put Bill out of my mind for right now. He cares about his employees and customers and also likes to check in with the teachers who rent space, but the timing is bothering me. I guess I’ll find out what’s going on soon enough.

Sure enough, Ophelia, my first student of the day, is waiting with her mom outside my little studio room.

“Uh, hi,” I say awkwardly. I’m still trying to figure out my new ability, but I’m pretty sure I don’t sense any hostility from either of them, just curiosity and maybe warmth.

“Ooh, I like that skirt,” says Ophelia's mom. I’m wracking my brain trying to remember what her name is. It might be Cindy. “Please tell us if there are any name or pronoun changes that we should know about.”

“Um, Lark and she/her, please,” I say, surprised.

“Great! One of Ophelia's siblings is nonbinary, so we’ve done this before.”

“Huh, that was easy!”

“It should be easy, but it isn’t always. I hope things go smoothly for you.”

“Thank you. Ready, Ophelia?”

Ophelia's lesson is uneventful and I can tell she’s been practicing, which is always gratifying. After we’re done, I walk down the hall to Bill’s office and knock on the door.

“Come in,” he says and I open the door.

Bill swivels his chair away from his desk. He’s a wiry man with shoulder-length greying hair. He has multiple piercings as well as tattoos covering both arms. He looks like an aging rock musician because that’s exactly what he is. Specifically, he was the drummer in a metal band until he decided that he was done being on the road and decided to open a music store.

He looks me up and down and then gestures for me to sit down in the only other chair in the office.

“I’ve got two rules I live by and that I expect from people if I’m going to associate with them,” Bill says. “Treat other people right and keep a steady beat. I figure if you got those, you can figure out the rest. Otherwise, us musicians are a bunch of weirdos anyway, so let your freak flag fly.”

He sighs and pushes his laptop across the desk so I can see it.

“I don’t know you well,” Bill continues, “but you’ve always seemed like a decent person and your student retention rate is very good, so it bothers me to see something like this.”

I look at the laptop. On the screen is a one-star review for Bill’s store from “Solid Jake” claiming that the store employs “groomers and pedophiles” and naming me specifically with my deadname.

“Fuck,” I mutter. Bill says nothing. I sense some frustration, but I don’t think it’s directed at me and despite the neutral look that he’s giving me, I think I feel some concern.

I take a deep breath. Even though I don’t think I’ve got a big problem here, I suddenly feel like I’m back in my parents’ dining room and everything is blowing up.

“It’s my asshole brother,” I say finally. “I recognize his username. I came out as trans to my family yesterday. It didn’t go well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Now Bill lets concern show on his face. “I thought it was something like that. When you walked in here dressed like that, it pretty much confirmed it. To be honest, I thought you were gay for quite a while.”

“I mean, I am. Just, you know, for women.”

“I’ll take care of this and if anybody gives you grief, just point them at me. Do you want any help talking to your students?”

“Thanks, Bill. I think I’m okay with students. First one went great, so that’s a one hundred percent success rate! I wasn’t actually planning to do a big coming out today, but I met up with my mom right before I came over and that was really good and I’m kind of riding that high. I meant to give you a heads-up first. Sorry.”

“The way I see it, whenever feels right for you is probably the right time. My sister’s kids are always talking about gay this and trans that and I don’t pretend to understand any of it, but I’d be a huge hypocrite if I thought there was anything wrong with people just being themselves. When I was your age, the same people who are riled up about folks like you thought that we were worshipping Satan.”

I laugh awkwardly, thinking of Dave’s comment about metal bands being jealous of us having a demon in our band. Bill doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness.

“Should I update the website?” he asks. “Are you changing your name and do you want a new picture?”

“Oh! Yeah, that would be great. My name is Lark now and I’ll send you a pic soon.”

“Sounds good, Lark.” Bill smiles. “Good luck with everything and I mean it—if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know.”

I thank Bill and head back up to the front of the store to update Kelly. I’m kind of surprised to see that June is still here. She’s idly strumming a guitar while talking to Kelly.

“Uh-oh! Did you get trapped by guitar lust?” I ask June.

“Nah, just talking about you,” she says.

“Also your girlfriend,” Kelly adds. “I had to make sure she’s good enough for you, but June vouches for her character and she is very hot, so I think she’ll do.”

“Yeah…” I agree dreamily.

“Did you talk to Bill?” Kelly asks.

“Yeah, just did.” I tell them about my brother’s review. “But Bill’s cool with everything, so I’m not super worried. Still hurts though.”

*****

“So overall everything went pretty well,” I say. “Most of my students and parents seemed pretty chill. A few awkward moments and I think one dad was checking out my boobs, but it could have been a lot worse. Of course, after this weekend, the bar is pretty damn low.”

“I’m proud of you, babe,” Anya says.

I’m snuggled up to Anya on her couch. She picked me up and brought me home after lessons were done. June is tuning up after restringing her guitar. She strums it experimentally.

“I need to back off the truss rod just a smidge,” she says.

“Is that more or less than a skosh?” I ask.

“Isn’t it two skoshes to the smidge?” says Anya.

“Yeah, that sounds right,” I concede. “So like, a quarter turn?”

“Probably,” June says. “I need to go grab an Allen wrench. Here.” She hands me her guitar.

I sit up to take the instrument and turn it over in my hands. “It was a Stratocaster with a whammy bar,” I sing.

Anya looks at me blankly. June furrows her brow then snaps her fingers. “Zappa!”

“Yep!” I grin and awkwardly position my fingers on the fretboard. “Too many strings,” I mutter. I strum a chord and

 

the guitar feels perfect in my hands—this is the instrument I’ve been looking for

 

excitement and satisfaction drown out the pain of my blisters as I perfectly nail the solo I’ve been practicing for days

 

I soak in the warm contentment of quietly practicing while my best friend Anya reads on the couch next to me

 

my anger at that smug asshole at work pours out of my amp as distorted chords

 

sweat stings my eyes and I blink it away in the bright stage lights as the audience erupts in applause and equal parts exhilaration and exhaustion wash over me

 

more sounds and images and emotions flood through me and I can’t keep up and

 

“This is Ground Control to Major Lark,” June sings.

I blink and shake my head. “Uh. Is it normal to have like a high speed memory montage happen when you play somebody else’s instrument? Asking for a friend.”

Anya looks mildly concerned. “I’ve not heard of that specifically, but it’s certainly not too weird in the range of Nephilim powers, I guess? You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. It was a lot, but I’m fine now. I think maybe I was getting June’s memories of playing this guitar. Stuff with feelings, you know?”

“Uh-oh!” June laughs. “Anything juicy?”

“Well, you think Anya is pretty great and you were pissed at some dude at work.”

June and Anya look at each other and then say “Preston!” in stereo.

“Preston was this guy I worked with who thought being a masc white gay guy gave him all the experience on being a minority,” June explains. She shakes her head. “So much mansplaining.”

“There was a direct correlation between the how much June had to deal with Preston and how much distortion she used when practicing,” Anya says.

“Huh.” I think. “Maybe not the most useful superpower unless I become a detective specializing in murderous musicians, but it’s kinda cool. Feels voyeuristic, though. Do I need to issue a disclaimer if I borrow somebody’s instrument now?”

June shrugs. “Feel free to keep playing if you want to figure out how it works. I’m not too worried about anything you might find out about me. Probably the most salacious thing you’re likely to learn is that sometimes I practice in a nightgown. I’m gonna go find that Allen wrench now.”

I noodle around on June’s guitar some more. This time, there’s no sudden flood of memories, but I sense that I could open myself up to them if I wanted. I relax and sure enough, I get more impressions of June playing her guitar. My overall impression is that June uses her playing to vent and process emotions, something to which I can easily relate.

“As best I can tell with my new power, June has never murdered someone and played her guitar about it afterwards,” I announce loudly to Anya when I hear June coming back.

“That’s a relief,” says Anya. “I’d feel really bad if I found out she’d killed somebody and didn’t ask me to help hide the body.”

June grins and punches Anya in the shoulder, then gets to work on the truss rod when I pass the guitar back to her.

I lean back against Anya and poke her thigh with my finger. “Wanna hang out with my mom sometime?”

“As long as it’s just your mom. Not a big fan of the men in your family.”

“Yeah, same. That’s why I quit the team.”