“And by the way”—she raises her silvery eyes to me—“they’ve been nice to me since Charlie asked me out. They’re just nicer now.”
I snort. “Have they asked you for concert tickets yet?”
She grins in that same crooked way her brother does. “Jenny did.”
I sigh, then lie back and stare up at the sky crosshatched by thin branches and glossy green leaves. “Swear you’ll never turn into them.”
“I swear it.”
I stick up my pinky, and she hooks her little finger around it, and then we shake on it. The silly gesture makes Nev crack a grin, and for a moment, I get the girl who hid under a baseball cap back.
52
T-Minus One
The last week of October passes in a flurry of activity and excitement. Butterflies flap inside of me twenty-four seven, but they’re not all brought on by Ten. Some of them come from the reminders of Mona’s contest plastered over the city buses, trumpeted over the radio channels, and blasted all over social media.
The deadline is tomorrow, and I have neither Mom’s signature nor have I uploaded my song to Mona’s website. Lynn and Steffi assume I’ve already sent everything in. I think Ten does, too. The only people who know I haven’t entered are Mom, Rae, and Laney. Mom because she hasn’t signed the form, and my friends because when they asked, I confessed my hesitation. Neither passed judgment or pressed me one way or another. Both listened as I listed the pros and cons.
As for Nev, I told her that my mom hadn’t agreed to sign the form. Which is sort of true. Since the Mona debacle, Mom and I haven’t discussed Mona or her contest.
When I get home from Lynn and Steffi’s on Friday, I find Mom sitting in the kitchen with Nev.
Grinning, Nev peels a sheet of paper off the emerald stone island and flaps it. “I convinced her!”
My heart pounds harder than during my dance lesson with Steffi.
Mom’s forehead is furrowed and her eyes tight. She’s either feelingconfused or cornered. Neither is good. I want to come clean but can’t. Not in front of Nev.
My fingers shake so badly it takes me several attempts to hang up my denim jacket. I tug on the long sleeves of my exercise top, and it droops off one of my shoulders.
“Something smells good,” I say, my voice low and slightly croaky.
“I made roast chicken.” Mom’s inspecting my face. “Want to stay for dinner, Nev?”
“I’d love to, but I need to check with Dad first.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
Nev taps on her cell phone, which is next to the signed form. After a couple of rings, Jeff’s deep voice rumbles out of her phone. “Hey, Dad, can I eat with Jade and Angie? Ten went over to Archie’s, so I’m home alone anyway.”
“I was on my way home,” Jeff says.
Mom leans toward the phone. “You’re welcome to come over too, Jeff.”
“That’s really kind. Are you sure you have enough food?”
Mom smiles. “Only two chickens and a green bean casserole.”
Jeff chuckles. “Were you expecting other guests?”
“No. Just my daughter.” She grins, and it smooths away some of the tension crimping her brow.
“Then I’ll be right over. With dessert.”
“Sounds great.”
Nev beams after she hangs up.
