Billy Troll's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

The wall crack appeared during the second verse of their fastest song. Billy heard it before he saw it—a sharp pop that cut through the drums and bass. The girls stopped playing. A chunk of plaster had fallen near the corner where the old heating vent used to be. Billy walked over and knelt down. Behind the broken plaster, he could see wooden slats and something that looked like a metal frame. He pulled at the loose pieces until more of the wall came away, revealing a trapdoor set flush against the floor beneath where the vent had been mounted. The hinges were old but solid, the metal frame rusted at the edges. Suzie came over and helped him clear the rest of the debris. When they pulled the door open, dust billowed up from the small space underneath. Inside was a single item—a faded hoodie with his name printed across the front in lettering he recognized from twenty years ago. Billy lifted it out slowly. He'd lost this at a practice session before his first real gig, back when Mic was still his bandmate and not his rival. He'd assumed someone had stolen it. But Mic had sealed it in the wall instead, in this building that Mic's family had owned before selling it to the city. Billy held the hoodie and understood what Mic had been trying to tell him all along. Mic hadn't just been mocking his hospital visits or challenging him to competitions. Mic had been trying to erase every trace of who Billy used to be—the version of himself who'd walked away from their shared band to build something different. The hoodie was proof that Mic had never let go of that moment, had literally buried it in the foundation of a place where musicians came to practice. Billy folded the hoodie carefully and set it on top of his amp. He told the girls they were done for the night and that he needed to talk to Dianne. When Billy got home, Dianne was reading in the kitchen. He sat down across from her and told her everything—about the hoodie, about how much space Mic occupied in his head, about how the mockery of his hospital work hurt more than any musical insult ever could. Dianne listened without interrupting. When he finished, she reached across the table and took his hand. She didn't try to fix it or tell him what to do. She just said she was glad he'd finally let her in. Billy realized that being the best version of himself meant letting people see the parts that weren't okay, not just the ones that smiled through everything. He couldn't carry Mic's weight alone anymore, and he didn't have to.