“I really wish you could make it easier for me to dislike you.”
He stops walking and pulls his shoulders back, pulls his head up. “Why?”
Oh…
No…
I said that out loud.
“Um. Because—” I rack my brain for something. Anything. “Because you don’t like music, and I don’t want to be friends with someone who doesn’t like music.”
A smirk tugs at his lips. “I thought we established that Idolike music.”
“Your mom’s music, I mean,” I add quickly.
His expression shutters up so fast I flinch. I almost apologize forbringing her up, but realize that perhaps it isn’t such a rotten argument. However much he wishes his mother were dead, she’s not.
She’s alive, and I’m entering her contest.
How deeply will he hate me once he finds out?
“I’ll see you later,” I say as I hop onto my bike and pedal away before he becomes a roadblock on the path to my success.
34
A Fleck of Light
Since Monday, Ten has acted extraordinarily cold toward me, and I can’t fault him for it. It’s what I want.
No…Not what I want. What I need.
Thankfully, Nev’s thawed out completely toward me. All week, we’ve texted. We mostly sent each other song recommendations and screenshots of cute outfits that she hopes to find at the mall this weekend. I sense Saturday’s going to be painfully awkward with Ten, but I also sense it’s going to be incredibly important for Nev, which is the whole point of the expedition.
It’s funny how quickly I connected to Ten’s sister. Perhaps it’s because of our shared passion for singing. Or maybe it’s because Rae’s been sort of absent from my life, so I suddenly have room for other people. Or maybe it’s because I see a little of myself in Nev. A little of myself and a lot of Mona.
My fingers freeze on the U-lock of my bike.
Is that it? Is this why I’ve gotten close to Nev so fast? Because getting close to her somehow feels as though I’m getting closer to her mother?
I snap the lock in place around the railing of Lynn’s house before ringing the doorbell.
That can’t be it.
This can’t be the sort of person I’ve become.
Piano music resounds from inside, and then a voice joins the instrument and harmonizes. As the scales escalate to high tones, the voice breaks. Nev mentioned she was taking a class today. Even though she didn’t tell me what time she’d be here, I’m almost certain she’s the one practicing. Every voice has a specific signature, and the gritty growl of this one tells me it’s Nev’s.
Steffi opens the door wide, wiping her sweat-slicked forehead on a hand towel. “Hey, Angie. Lynn’s just finishing up.”
“I know. I’m early.”
“You want to come see my new choreography?”
“Sure.”
Another voice exercise begins behind the closed parlor door. This time Lynn’s tapping the lower octaves on the piano. And this time, the voice doesn’t even rattle.
Steffi worries the towel in her hands. “Come,” she says. When I don’t move, she utters my name forcefully.
