Chapter 17: New Rumors (Ava in Leo’s Body)

I’m slouched in Leo’s apartment, his phone buzzing like a hornet’s nest on the coffee table. The “Invisible Echoes” video from last night’s open mic is everywhere, campus group chats, X posts, even a blurry clip on the Crescendo University forum titled “Who’s Echo? Leo Martinez’s Secret Twin?” My hands, his hands, are sweaty as I scroll through the comments. “Sounds like Leo, but… a girl?” “That voice is too raw to be Martinez.” “Bet it’s his girlfriend pulling a stunt.” My stomach churns. I’m not his girlfriend, and I’m definitely not a girl right now, but they’re getting too close to the truth.

The door swings open, and Leo bursts in, my body looking frazzled in a volleyball hoodie, my ponytail lopsided. “Ava, you see this?” He holds up my phone, open to the same forum post. My voice, high and panicked, spills out. “They’re calling you, me, Echo. And they think I’m a girl pretending to be you!”

I set his phone down, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a mess.” His heart gives a little skip, and I grimace, trying to stay calm. “Noah’s been texting me nonstop. He’s convinced ‘Echo’ is me pulling some kind of artistic stunt.”

Leo flops onto the couch next to me, my knees tucked up. “Jade’s on my case too. Caught me checking the video at practice and started grilling me about why I’m so obsessed with ‘your boyfriend’s new act.’” He mimics Jade’s tone, my voice sharp. “I told her you’re not my boyfriend, but she’s not buying it.”

I laugh, his laugh rough. “Great. So now they think we’re dating and I’m a secret singer.” I lean back, his long legs sprawling. “We gotta shut this down before it gets worse.”

He shakes his head, my eyes wide. “Or… we lean into it. Let ‘Echo’ be a mystery. Keeps the heat off us swapping bodies, right?”

I stare at him, his idea sinking in. “That’s insane. If Blackwave Records hears this, ”

His phone buzzes again, cutting me off. I grab it, and my heart, his heart, drops. It’s an email from Blackwave Records. Subject: Echo’s Performance, Let’s Talk. I show it to Leo, and his jaw, my jaw, drops.

“No way,” he says, snatching the phone. He reads aloud, my voice shaking: “‘Dear Leo, we caught the ‘Invisible Echoes’ performance online. The raw emotion and unique sound align with The Crescendos’ potential. We’d love to discuss this direction for Battle of the Bands. Can we meet?’” He looks up, my eyes gleaming. “Ava, they love it. They love you.”

I stand, pacing, his boots heavy on the floor. “They love Echo. Not me. And if they find out it’s me in your body, we’re screwed.” I run his hand through his hair, a nervous tic I’ve picked up. “What do we do? I can’t meet them as you and Echo.”

He jumps up, my body buzzing with energy. “Then don’t. Keep Echo separate. Play as me for the band, but let Echo be… a ghost. They’re intrigued. That’s good for Battle.”

I stop pacing, his heart thudding unevenly. “And what about the rumors? People are saying ‘Echo’ sounds like a girl. If Noah or Riley start digging, ”

“Then we distract them,” he cuts in, my voice firm. “Give them something else to talk about. Like, I dunno, a killer band rehearsal. Or I nail a volleyball game as you. Shift the focus.”

I groan, sinking back onto the couch. “You barely nailed a dig last night. You’re not ready for a game.”

He grins, my grin, and grabs a pillow, tossing it at me. “Then teach me, coach. We’ve got a training session tonight, right? Let’s make me a volleyball star and you a rockstar. Deal?”

I catch the pillow, smirking despite myself. “Deal. But if Blackwave shows up at rehearsal, you’re handling the talking.”

I’m in the music building’s basement at midnight, Leo’s guitar slung across his chest, my fingers, his fingers, still buzzing from the chords of “Invisible Echoes.” Leo’s across from me, in my body, practicing a volleyball serve with a ball we snuck from the gym. The air’s thick with the smell of dust and the hum of our shared panic over the viral video.

“Okay, Martinez,” I say, setting the guitar down. “Focus. Toss the ball straight up, snap your wrist. Like we practiced.” I toss him the ball, his heart steady for once.

He catches it, my hands clumsy but determined. “Got it. Watch and learn.” He tosses the ball, steps forward, and swings my arm. The ball sails over an imaginary net, landing clean. He pumps my fist. “Boom! Olympic-level serve right there.”

I laugh, his laugh echoing. “Not bad. Do it again. Five in a row, or you’re doing push-ups.”

He groans, my voice dramatic. “You’re brutal, Lin.” But he’s grinning, tossing the ball again, nailing another serve. We keep going, him serving, me coaching, until he’s hit four clean ones. On the fifth, he stumbles, my bad shoulder twinging, and he winces, rubbing it.

“Careful,” I say, stepping closer. “You’re pushing it too hard.”

He looks up, my eyes soft. “Says the guy ignoring my heart condition. You feel that skip earlier?”

I nod, his heart giving a faint flutter as if on cue. “Yeah. I’m trying to take it easy. But Blackwave’s email… it’s a lot.” I pick up the guitar, strumming to distract myself. “They want that ‘Echo’ sound. I don’t know if I can pull it off as you.”

He sits next to me, my body small but steady. “You already did. That video? It’s you, Ava. Your heart, my voice. We made that song together.” He pauses, then adds, “Play it for me. Just us.”

I hesitate, his fingers hovering over the strings. “Here? Now?”

“Yeah,” he says, my voice quiet. “I wanna hear it. Like it’s just you and me, no mask.”

I swallow, his throat tight, and start the chords, soft and haunting. “Hiding in plain sight, screaming in the quiet…” My voice, his voice, cracks at first, but I keep going, the lyrics spilling out. “Nobody sees the shadow of my fight.” He joins in, my voice blending with his, a duet in the wrong bodies but the right souls. “Echoes of a heart that’s breaking slow, chasing dreams nobody knows.”

When we finish, the basement’s silent, the air heavy. He’s staring at me, my eyes wet. “That’s us,” he whispers. “That’s who we are.”

I set the guitar down, his hands shaking. “Yeah. But the world thinks it’s ‘Echo.’ And now Blackwave’s watching.”

His phone buzzes, and I grab it. A text from Noah: Dude, Blackwave just DM’d me about Echo. They’re coming to rehearsal tomorrow. You gotta explain this. I show it to Leo, and his face, my face, pales.

“Crap,” he says, rubbing my shoulder. “What do we tell them?”

I stand, pacing again. “We stick to the plan. I’m you at rehearsal. Echo’s a mystery. No one knows it’s me.” I pause, turning to him. “But you gotta be ready for Jade. She’s gonna see that video and ask more questions.”

He nods, my ponytail bobbing. “I’ll handle Jade. You handle Noah and Blackwave. We’ve got this.”

I smirk, his smirk. “Together?”

“Together,” he says, standing. “Now, one more serve. I’m not letting you outshine me.”

We laugh, diving back into training, him serving, me strumming, but the buzz of his phone keeps pulling me back. Another text, this time from Riley: Forum’s going nuts. They’re saying Echo’s a girl Leo’s hiding. Spill the tea, man. I show it to Leo, and he groans.

“Let ‘em talk,” he says, tossing the ball. “As long as they don’t figure out the truth.”

The next day, I’m in the rehearsal studio, Leo’s guitar heavy in my hands, his heart pounding as Noah and Riley set up. The air’s tense, their eyes flicking to me like they’re waiting for answers. Noah’s bass is half-tuned, and he’s scrolling through X on his phone.

“Leo, seriously,” Noah says, not looking up. “This Echo thing’s blowing up. People are saying it’s a girl with your voice. You gonna tell us what’s up?”

I force a laugh, his laugh, and sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. “It’s just some open mic act. People are bored, making stuff up.” I strum a chord, loud, to distract him. “Can we focus? Blackwave’s coming today.”

Riley looks up from her drums, smirking. “Yeah, and they’re obsessed with Echo. You sure you’re not moonlighting in a mask, Martinez?”

My heart, his heart, skips, and I cover it with a grin. “You caught me. I’m secretly a masked diva.” They laugh, but Noah’s still watching me, eyes narrow.

“Let’s run ‘Static Dreams,’” I say, steering them to familiar ground. “Make it raw, like Blackwave wants.” I start the song, my voice, his voice, pouring out, trying to channel Echo without giving myself away. Noah joins in, his bass steady, but his eyes don’t leave me.

Halfway through, the studio door opens, and a woman in a sharp blazer steps in, Blackwave Records. My hands, his hands, fumble a chord, but I recover, pushing through. She watches, jotting notes, and when we finish, she claps slowly.

“Leo,” she says, voice cool. “That’s the sound we heard in Echo’s video. Raw, real. Can you bring that to Battle of the Bands?”

I nod, his throat tight. “Yeah. That’s the plan.”

She smiles, but it’s sharp. “Good. And if you know this ‘Echo,’ tell them we’re interested. We don’t care if it’s a girl or a stunt. We want that voice.”

I force another grin, his grin. “I’ll pass it along.” But as she leaves, Noah’s staring, and I know he’s not letting this go.

Back at the apartment, I text Leo: Blackwave was at rehearsal. They love Echo. Noah’s suspicious. You okay with Jade? His reply comes fast: Jade saw the video. Thinks you’re hiding something. I dodged, but she’s relentless. Music building, midnight?

I type back: Yeah. We’re in deep now. I set the phone down, his heart still racing, the rumors and Blackwave’s interest closing in like a storm.