Luna Basswood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 14

Luna Basswood wanted the headlining slot at Silverfin without doing the work, and the fish rattling against her belly was going to make that impossible. She stood in her usual corner of the festival grounds, ears flat, tuning peg pinched between two fingers. The bass had a body shaped like a fat river fish, painted scales flaking at the fins. She'd found it behind a dumpster in a cracked case three summers ago, and it had been hers ever since. Down the field, a dozen bass players leaned into a low, muddy chord. The ground hummed. Her fish shivered. The low E slid flat again. Her grandmother had come to Silverfin as a kid. Luna had come every year of her life. This was the last one. After the final event, the festival closed forever, and the headlining slot would belong to whoever the judges picked at tomorrow's audition. Luna wanted it without breaking a sweat. The sweat part was becoming a problem. She plucked the E. Flat. She twisted the peg. The players shifted keys. The ground hummed harder. Flat again. She hissed through her teeth and slung the bass on her back. A practice space sat at the edge of the field, a squat building with mismatched colored windows and vents rattling on the roof. She'd walked past it a hundred times. Inside, it would be quiet. Inside, the walls might eat the hum. She pushed through the door. The air smelled like old carpet and solder. A blonde woman stood at a stack amp with a sunburst bass low on her hip, playing a slow line into a tuner. She glanced up, kept playing, and jerked her chin at the empty amp beside her. "You're the corner girl," the blonde said. "With the fish." "It keeps going flat." "Because you're tuning it out there." The blonde didn't stop the line. "Tune it where you play it. Play it where it stays." Luna plugged in. She turned the peg. The E held. She struck it again. Still there. No hum crawled up through the floor. Her tail relaxed against her jeans. "Auditions are tomorrow," the blonde said. "On the main stage. Out there." She nodded toward the field. "Where the ground hums." Luna's hand stopped on the peg. "You can tune in here all night," the blonde said. "The second you walk onstage, that fish rattles loose again. Unless you learn to hold it steady while everything shakes." She unplugged her own bass and set it on a stand. On her way to the door she added, "I go on before you. If you're still tuning when they call your name, I take the slot." The door closed. Luna stood alone with her fish in tune and one night to learn how to keep it that way with the ground moving under her boots.