Chapter 1 - Gotta Let It Happen

*HAYLEY'S POV*

"Can't count the years on one hand that we've been together, I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better."

The first line of our new single, Still Into You, belted out from my car's tinny stereo, followed by a crunchy guitar riff that sent the tiny toy soldiers and miniature zombie figurines tacked to the dashboard into a frenzied wobble. I smiled. The song hadn't been out too long yet - the unexpected experience of hearing it on Nashville's local radio station was as yet a novelty to me.

"I should be over all the butterflies, but I'm into you."

Hearing my own voice thumping from the speakers sent a wave of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, not unlike the ones mentioned in the lyrics of the chorus. I tapped the edge of the steering wheel with my forefinger in time with the beat as I looked out the windscreen onto the road, baking in the unseasonal heat wave until it gleamed with melted asphalt. I had the windows rolled down, and my freshly dyed pink-and-orange shock of hair blew wildly in the wind as I zoomed down Nashville's main freeway.

Our self-titled album - all seventeen tracks of it! - was out in just a few days. I didn't quite know how to feel. Anticipation? Nervousness? Excitement? It was all those things. The events of the next week, I knew, would determine whether the last year of hard work in the studio was worth it. I had every confidence that Taylor, Jeremy and I had succeeded in producing our best material yet - but would the rest of the world? We would be judged more intensely than we had been ever before - music critics would, undoubtedly, be eager to suggest that Paramore's first album without the Farro brothers proved they couldn't cope without them.

We could. We had. I told myself this every day.

We had managed to salvage something from the split with Josh and Zac three years ago; a few months after, Taylor and Zac and had met up and made peace with each other. Taylor told me it was still awkward between them sometimes - nothing would be the same as it was before. I'd seen Zac a few times since - we'd exchanged small talk and smiled uncomfortably - but it was still wonderful to have some of our old friend back. Taylor had even included him on his section of the new album's list of 'thank-you's.

Zac was happy, involved with a solo project called Half Noise and Josh's new band, Novel American. Seeing Zac that content - no tension or worry in his demeanour, as I had remembered him - made me feel a whole lot better. There was still no word from Josh, though, and I didn't think that was something that was going to change any time soon.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I looked down at the car door on my right and smiled as I saw the note my sister, Erica, had penned on there during her rebellious phase when she was thirteen; along with all the other graffiti and Sharpie smudges there was the message: 'Your the best fugking sister!' I laughed silently at the grammar mistake and how she'd thought she could get away with it if she didn't actually write the word properly. 'It's got a 'G' in it, so I'm not actually swearing!', she'd giggled.

Thinking of my sisters reminded me of my destination. There was a long row of traffic on the opposite carriageway; on the rear view mirror I could see the flashing lights of a police car and a siren was wailing some way away. There seemed to be a commotion up ahead, and I could see some plumes of smoke rising into the air, but it disappeared into the distance as I took a left off the highway.

I was headed to Mom's house; we'd just returned from playing several promotional shows further south prior to the album's issue. Being in Tennessee again was comforting; back in the band's early days when we were still very young, touring had been difficult - it felt like had everything changed so much when went came home to Franklin. It didn't make me so homesick anymore; Franklin held a sense of familiarity to me now that made the city seem perpetual, timeless. Seeing these same old streets once more - Grimey's music store where I bought my first records; the corn-dog stall on the corner; the buskers by the mall singing country songs - made me happy, not bitter.

It was this way for many of the things in my life now. I reflected on how much I had grown up over the last few years. I had been so angry during the process of recording Brand New Eyes - feeling as if I was losing friends in some places and making enemies in others. I wasn't comfortable with who I was, and that reflected on how I sounded on those songs, on the lyrics I wrote. Careful, Ignorance, Playing God... They were some of the best I had ever written, but they were so negative. The new album wasn't like that. It was positive, optimistic. It was about letting things go, embracing what you believe in.

"Gotta let it happen," I sung quietly to myself as I turned onto the driveway of my family's house.

I cut the engine and the radio stopped abruptly, bringing me back to the present. Stepping out of the faithful old silver saloon, the bumper adorned with a patchwork of multi-coloured stickers (my favourites were the New Found Glory collection Chad had given me, and the No Doubt one I'd gotten right before we'd done the tour with them several years ago), I stared up at the clear expanse of deep blue sky above me and grinned. The crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers; the waft of a Welcome Home meal cooking inside the house; the huddle of now-faded red balloons attached to the gate (it was McKayla's birthday a couple of weeks ago) ... Yes. I was home.

A few hours later, I was seated on the leather couch in the living room of Jeremy's apartment, drinking Juice Press' newest smoothie blend - Sweet Potato Pie - and listening to his lovely wife Kat chatter, an old track of The Distillers playing softly in the background. I'd left mom's house a little while ago and decided to go hang out with the guys. Taylor would be arriving in a few minutes.

Jeremy entered from the kitchen carrying a tall glass of Coke, chilled from the fridge so condensation ran down the sides, and sat down beside Kat. He had the yellow jeans on he had worn when we filmed the Still Into You video, and his caramel hair was combed back in a large quiff. He was growing his stubble out into a short beard, which I noticed was shot through with a little grey.

Jeremy took a large gulp of the fizzy drink, placed the glass down on the coffee table and put his arm round Kat, beaming. He had such a bright aura - his laugh was infectious and he had such a jokey personality. It was one of the reasons he was so easy to be around.

At that moment the front door of the apartment clicked open and Taylor sauntered in, carrying his huge guitar case and amp. His face was flushed from the effort, his black curls sweaty and sticking to his forehead. I got up and took the jacket he had slung over his shoulder, hanging it on the rack by the window, and helped take some of the weight of the equipment.

"Hey, Tay," I said, laughing. "What's up?"

"I just got a call from our manager - he says he was asked if we'd like to do an acoustic set on the Mississippi Live Radio Breakfast Show next week," he huffed as we placed the case down on the floor, "so I think we need some practice. We'll be doing one of the new singles, of course, and then we have to do a cover, so I was thinking -"

"Hey, shush guys, I'm trying to listen to this," Jeremy called from the sofa. He had turned the TV on and was watching CNN.

Taylor rolled his eyes and continued talking, but I wasn't listening anymore. Glancing over his shoulder, I could just about see the screen Jeremy and Kat were hunched over so intently. There was some footage of a reporter by a busy roadside, which was, I realised after a few seconds, the freeway I had been on earlier. Behind him were the scattered remains of green car parts and the wreckage of a huge white lorry.

Jeremy reached for the remote control and turned the volume up.

"... this tragic accident." the reporter gestured to the scene of destruction around him, mid-sentence. "It appears the driver of this oil truck tanker lost control on the hot Tarmac as he travelled at around thirty miles-an-hour above the speed limit. Witnesses say it collided with this BMW as it skidded on the slippery surface, crashing into the barriers and causing a fire which took the rescue team called here three hours to put out. The drivers of both vehicles, in addition to the two passengers in the BMW, were killed."

Kat shook her head, looking slightly upset, and sat back, more relaxed, on the sofa again. However, Jeremy maintained his position, perched on the edge of his seat.

"So, as I was saying, I think we could do a really good cover of -"

"Shush, Taylor," Jeremy said quite sharply. Surprised, Taylor shut up. "Before this news story started - I thought... They said something about..." He trailed off, listening to the television again.

"Unfortunately, we confirm the casualties included local drummer Zac Farro and his friends, the names of whom have not been released yet. Zac was in the front seat when the accident occurred, and was dead by the time medics arrived. He was known best as the former drummer of Franklin's pop-rock band Paramore, and as the percussionist of Half Noise and Novel American, in collaboration with his older brother, Joshua Farro -"

The sound of the television faded from my ringing eardrums. I clutched the edge of the counter for support, feeling myself begin to sway. Losing balance completely, I slumped to the wooden floor and collapsed. We all sat there unspeaking, completely stunned. And then I was gasping, heaving through heavy lungs, as if there wasn't enough air in the room. Quicker and quicker, my heart was pounding against the inside of my chest. It felt like it was trying to punch its way out of me.

Suddenly, Kat broke down into tears and Taylor was shouting "No, no, no,"; I felt a strangled-sounding noise escape from my mouth. Jeremy just sat there, his face grey, stone-like.

Zac was dead.

Every night I try my best to dreamTomorrow makes it betterThen I wake up to the cold realityAnd not a thing has changedBut it will happenGotta let it happenGotta let it happenGotta let it happen

It's just a sparkBut it's enough to keep me goingAnd when it's dark out, no one's aroundIt keeps glowing