He splays his hands on my waist and then dips his face toward mine, touches my lips to his, crushes my heart to his.
54
Win Some, Lose Some
Whoever claimed happiness can’t last was right.
After the two greatest weeks of my life, the absolute worst one begins. It’s the morning of Mona Stone’s contest announcement. Which isn’t the reason it’s the worst. I’m excited to find out who she picked. It’s the worst because of the name that appears on my Twitter feed.
I read it. Blink. Read it again.
Sometimes, the mind can play tricks on you. Show you what you want to see. Or what you don’t want to see.
The name of the winner blurs, then sharpens.
I whip my gaze toward Ten, who’s leaning against the locker next to mine, the only person not clutching a phone, just as the hallway erupts with noise.
And I mean erupts like a volcano erupts—shrieks, claps, and whistles spew and overtake the entire school.
Ten frowns, while I feel like crying.
Wrong. I am crying.
The PA system squeals, and then Mrs. Larue’s voice blasts through the school, adding to the mounting chaos. “In the words of the Buddha, One moment can change a day, one day can change a life, and one life can change the world. Dear Angela, from all the faculty at Reedwood. We. Are. Proud!”
Ten’s gaze goes a little wider and his mouth a little softer, but his jaw, like the winner’s name—my name—sharpens.
He backs up from me, and then his feet eat up the hallway in long strides.
I try to go after him, but he’s fast, and people keep coming at me, keep saying Congrats or I knew she’d choose you, which they couldn’t possibly have known, because one, they most likely have never heard me sing, and two, I didn’t submit my song.
I try to get through the fence of bodies, but they keep coming. So many of them. My back rams into the cold, hard metal wall of lockers.
“Yo, back the hell up! Don’t you see you’re freaking her out?” Jasper yells, which gets some people’s attention.
Brad gets the others’ attention. He shoves them back, and then Laney and Rae are by my side and rescuing me from the mob. They tow me into the girls’ bathroom, kicking out two girls fixing their makeup.
“I don’t know whether to hug you or scream at you right now.” Rae’s voice is so shrill it reverberates in my skull.
“Did you tell us you weren’t competing so we wouldn’t get our hopes up?” Laney asks.
Sobs rack my body, make me crumple to the floor.
Rae crouches in front of me. “Hon, talk to us.”
“I d-d-didn’t…”
“You didn’t what?” Laney asks gently. “Submit your song?”
I nod so hard my head feels as though it’s going to unscrew itself from my body.
My friends become smudges of color—blonde, black, peach, and sky blue. I can see them talking, but I can’t hear them over the buzzing in my ears.
“I want to go home,” I croak.
“I’ll call Jade,” Rae offers, grabbing my phone from my glacial fingers.
What is my mother going to think? The same thing that Ten did? That I lied? Oh, God, Ten … the hurt and anger on his face when he walked away from me brings up a new wave of tears. I have to call him. Have to tell him that I have no clue why his mother chose me.
“Um, Angie, Nev just sent you a text.”
Rae shows me my phone. My eyesight is so blurry that I have to blink several times to decipher her words, and after I do, I keep blinking.
NEV: Don’t hate me.
I close my eyes, head pounding as furiously as my heart.
Don’t hate her?
Don’t hate her for what?
Like a bucket of icy water, understanding washes over me.
I seize my phone from Rae.
ME: You submitted my application and song?!?
My phone rings, and Nev’s name flashes across the screen, and although I don’t want to talk to her, I want to scream at her, which I do, the moment we’re connected.
Rae and Laney look on in stunned silence.
Nev’s crying so hard by the time I’m done chewing her out that I think I overdid it, but then I remember the look on her brother’s face, and it lessens my guilt.
“I d-didn’t w-want you to … to give up because of T-Ten,” she croaks.
My heart bangs so hard I taste metal. “I never gave up, Nev! I just changed directions.”
“B-but you m-made me a p-promise.”
I swallow, my throat feeling raw and stiff.
“And y-you didn’t k-keep it.”
“So that makes what you did okay?”
She sobs so wildly that I expect her tears to seep right out of my phone. “I’m s-s-sorry.”
“Are you really, though?”
Silence, then, “For the way I d-did it, yes.”
I shut my eyes for a millisecond, massage my temples.
“Don’t h-hate me. P-p-please d-don’t.”
I heave a long sigh. “I don’t hate you, but I am real mad.”
“T-T-Ten’s going t-t-to hate m-me,” she stammers. “He’ll n-never forgive m-me.”
“He’s your brother. He’ll forgive you.”
“N-no, he won’t. He’ll n-never forgive me. He’ll h-hate me fo-forever. J-just like he hates M-Mom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Did he ever f-forgive her?”
“What she and you did isn’t the same thing.”
“She’s our m-mother, Angie.”
And then it hits me why Nev did this. She entered me in the contest as a way to get closer to Mona. Or at least I think that’s why. “After school, come over to my house.”
“O-okay. Will you t-tell T-Ten?”
“Not until you and I talk.”
“O-okay.”
Rae and Laney are wearing matching expressions of shock.
“Nev submitted your song?” Rae says after I hang up. “Whoa…”
“That’s really screwed up,” Laney says.
I rub my wet cheeks and puffy eyes.
“You could probably still drop out,” Rae says.
“But she won,” Laney says. “I know we’re not celebrating right now, but you do realize you’ve just won a nationwide contest? Your song was picked over thousands.”
No, I don’t realize this. “Did you call my mom, Rae?”
“Yeah. She’s probably waiting for you outside.”
I push myself off the tiles, wash my hands, and splash cold water over my face. As I leave the bathroom, Laney says, “You want us to come with you, sweetie?”
I shake my head, then dry my face on my sleeves.
“We love you,” Rae and Laney tell me in unison.
I trudge over to them and hug them. Ten might hate me, but at least my friends don’t. After swearing them to secrecy, I exit into the empty hallway.
I won.
As I walk out of school, it begins to sink in. And even though I’m still mad, I’m also something else. Something between proud and terrified.
55
A Means to an End
“Ten will forgive Nev, right?” I ask Mom, as she smooths back my hair.
I’m lying on our couch with my head in her lap.
“Of course he will, baby.”
I stare at the piano I spent hours practicing my song on. A song I now hate. The black and ivory keys bleed into one another, their joints intersecting at wrong angles.
“Are you sure that’s what worries you? That he forgives Nev?”
Is my mother a mind reader?
“I know you and Ten are … close.”
I close my eyes and cringe.
“Angie?”
I don’t open my eyes.
“I’d be the most unobservant person if I didn’t realize you two—”
I press my hands to my ears.
She pulls my hands away. “Angie, I’m okay with it.”
&nb
sp; “You are?” I croak.
“Look at me.”
“In a second.”
She snorts. “Don’t worry … I’m not going to ask you for any details.”
I snap my lids open. “Does Jeff know?”
She smiles. “From one day to the next, his son doesn’t want to leave Nashville anymore. Of course he knows.”
“Does he hate me? I don’t mean for dating his son … I mean for winning Mona’s contest?”
“He may not be a fan of his ex-wife, but he’s a huge fan of yours.”
I blow out air through my lips. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
She stops combing my hair. “I’m not. He’s never seen his kids happier than since you’ve come into their lives. Both his kids.”
“Neither is real happy today.”
“Today will pass.”
I stare at the ivory ceiling, which looks white in contrast to the pale gray walls. Appearances can be so deceiving. “Do you think it’s possible Mona picked me because she knew who I was and wanted to get back at her family?”
Mom’s hand stills in my hair. “How would that benefit her, Angie? It would just make her look petty. Besides, she picked your song, not you. Do you really think she would’ve picked a song she doesn’t want to put on her album?”
“I guess not.”
Mom’s phone rings. She leans over to scoop it up from the coffee table. “Hey, Jeff.”
I sit up, tucking my feet underneath me.
“She cut school?… No, she’s not here … Okay … Of course. I’ll have Angie try to call her … We’ll call you right back.”
The second Mom hangs up, she asks me to phone Nev, worry darkening her brown irises. I jump to my feet and head to the foyer to dig my phone out of my jacket pocket.
I call Nev’s number, feeling colder than when I made snow angels with Rae, colder than when Ten backed away from me. It goes to voice mail. “Nev, call me back right away. I’m not mad, okay? Just call me back.”
I hang up, then stare at my screen, which is overflowing with notifications, tags, texts. I look for one from Ten, but he seems to be the only person in all of Belle Meade who hasn’t written me. Even the singer from the Moon Junkies DMed me.
Just as I’m trying Nev’s number again our doorbell rings. I stride to the door and look through the peephole. When I see who it is, I open the door wide.
“Mom, Nev’s here!” I yell, taking in the sliver of reddened face I can see between the ropes of tangled hair.
“Oh thank God!” Mom rushes toward her, her phone already raised to her ear. “She’s here, Jeff. She’s okay … Hold on a sec.” She extends the phone toward Nev. “Nev, your father wants to talk to you.”
Nev shakes her head, then croaks, “N-not now.”
I hear Jeff roar on Mom’s cell.
“Tell him she’ll call him back once she calms down,” I say, and then I pluck one of Nev’s limp hands, tug her into the living room, and sit her down in the armchair.
After Mom disconnects, she says, “I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s coming over.”
“How long?” Nev’s voice sounds as raw as her face looks.
“He was ten minutes away, but he’s probably breaking every speed limit.”
“Angie”—Nev wrings her hands—“I’m so sorry.”
I sigh. “You should be. You just gave us all a heart attack!”
“Uh, not about that.”
Nev darts a glance at Mom.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I told her everything.”
“Everything?” Nev squeaks, before dipping her chin to her neck. “I’m sorry, Jade.”
Sighing, Mom sits on the armrest of the couch, folding one leg underneath her. “Why did you do it? I mean the contest entry. Not the class cutting.”
“Because I thought … I thought Angie wouldn’t go through with it—”
“Which you were right about,” I say.
“—because my brother was making her not do it.”
It would be unjust of me to say that Ten didn’t play a part in my decision, albeit passively.
“Sweetheart, when someone doesn’t want to do something, you can’t force it upon them,” my mom says.
Nev hangs her head lower. “I know, Jade.”
Mom and I exchange a look.
“But what’s done is done. Now you have to face the consequences.”
“Dad’s going to send me away to boarding school when he finds out,” Nev whispers.
“He won’t, sweetie,” Mom says.
Nev starts sobbing, so my mother stands and walks over to the armchair, and then crouches in front of Nev. “He would never send you away.”
“Please don’t tell him,” she whispers.
“It’s not up to me. It’s up to Angie.”
I sigh. “I won’t tell him. And I won’t make you tell him either, but I do want you to tell Ten, or your brother will never trust me again, let alone speak to me.”
Mom glances at me. I can’t tell what she’s thinking—maybe that I’m wrong in letting Nev get away with this, or maybe that I’m being mature for letting Nev off the hook.
“I’ll give Mona the rights to my song, and that’ll be the end of it,” I say.
Nev looks up, snot and tears marbling her skin.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask.
She nods just as tires squeal outside our door.
Mom stands up. “That must be your dad.”
Nev shrinks into the armchair as Mom goes to open the door.
“When you sent in my application,” I ask, “did you attach a personal note? Something with your name on it?”
“No!” She shakes her head wildly. “I just uploaded a screenshot of the signed form and the copy of the recording you sent me.”
“So Mona has no idea who I am?”
She shakes her head again.
My mom and her dad are still outside. Mom is probably trying to calm Jeff.
“I have an extra demand.” I tap my index finger against Nev’s knee. “I have to sing my song in front of cameras and Mona on Saturday, and I want you to come with me.”
Nev blinks and blinks, and then she nods and nods.
And even though she’s about to get into a heap of trouble, happiness streaks her face.
Her expression confirms my suspicion that she used me to reach her mother. She couldn’t have known I would win, but hope convinces people the most insane outcome can come true.
At least now Nev will get some answers, and answers are better than questions, even if those answers might dash all of her hopes.
56
Inflatable Hearts
When I enter the cafeteria at lunch the following day, my peers stand and clap so energetically the palm trees sway. I’m desperate for everyone to stop congratulating me, because each show of support nips away at my stoicism.
Ten didn’t come to school today, and I’m glad, because witnessing everyone’s enthusiasm would just hurt him, but I’m also worried. Worried he believes I made Nev take the blame.
At the end of the school day, I feel as though I’ve been teleported to Jupiter, where everything weighs two and a half times more. The last bell can’t come soon enough. I can’t focus on anything our geography teacher is saying. I just sit there, slumped in my chair, chewing on the end of my pen.
The PA system crackles. “Angela Conrad, please come to the principal’s office.”
Normally, I would blush at my name being called out, but I don’t care anymore. I drag myself out of my chair and plod through the aisle of desks toward the door. I bet Principal Larue wants to discuss my slipping grade point average.
As I step out of the classroom, my heel hits something slippery that makes me skid. Instinctively, I reach out and steady myself against the wall, then look down, and my forehead furrows when I notice what made me slip—rose petals. And they aren’t just in front of the classroom door. There’s a trail of them that leads up the staircas
e of our basement classroom. Is this Mrs. Larue’s doing? If it is, it’s a little weird … even for her.
I follow the petals up the stairs and then through the door and into the main hallway. More rose petals are strewn over the linoleum, but they don’t lead anywhere near our principal’s office.
What if the petals aren’t for me?
I freeze and am about to double back when I catch where the trail leads: my locker. Legs feeling like damp cotton, I walk up to it and open the metal door with a clank. Petals rain down over my boots, along with a folded note.
MEET ME WHERE YOU ASKED ME TO HOMECOMING.
I read and reread the note. I never asked—
Fighting off a smile, I shake my head, and then I run out the door and round the walls of red bricks toward the bleachers. I slow down when I spot the lone figure standing there.
For a moment, I watch Ten and he watches me.
Then I yell, “I never asked you to homecoming, Tennessee Dylan! You asked me.”
In the distance, I see him smile.
Heart derailing, I stride over to him.
“My dad says humor and flowers help fix mistakes,” he says.
I stop a foot away from him. “I thought you were never going to talk to me again.”
He extends a bouquet of roses as thick as my torso. I take it from him and inhale the sweet fragrance of his remorse.
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
The edges of his face are all blurry. “I don’t blame you for it,” I say.
He swallows, which makes his Adam’s apple jostle in his throat. “You should blame me … I left without asking any questions.”
I shake my head. “When it comes to your mom, Ten, I’ll never blame you for reacting weirdly.”
He reaches for the bouquet and coaxes it out of my fingers, then tosses it on the bleachers. “I don’t deserve you.” He tugs on my wrist, and I collapse against him. His hands wrap around my back and pin me to his chest. He cocoons my body with his and holds me in silence for a long time, his chest puffing with sighs. “She’s just everywhere, Angie. Every time I think I can break free from her—for good—she shows up. On the radio, on billboards, on TV. This morning, I saw her in a shampoo commercial. However long or fast I run, I can’t outrun her.”
Not Another Love Song Page 25
