Charlie nods, a small smile gracing her lips as hope sparks in her eyes. “Then let’s do it. I’m sure Dad will let you use this song for your portfolio. Your pipes are amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?”
I clear my throat, standing from my chair. “Um, thank you? I think—”
“It’s a compliment, Rose,” Charlie smirks. “Get used to them, because you’re going to be getting a lot of praise with a voice like that.”
I nod, still unable to look at her. I screw my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. If I want this, I have to start somewhere. Facing my fears head-on is intimidating, but I can’t keep living in terror. Not when there’s an opportunity in front of me, offering an outstretched hand.
I finally look up, locking eyes with my best friend. My heart slams and my limbs shake, but I don’t let it stop me as my voice flows unwaveringly. “Thank you.”
Chapter Twelve
Rosalie
I spend the next few days in the studio with Charlie and her dad, working on samples and pouring every ounce of effort I can into perfecting my portfolio. Juilliard submissions are approaching fast, and I barely make it to the deadline.
Still, the practice Mr. Marcus has been drilling into me is really helping with my stage fright. Every exercise is raw and exposing—slowly tearing away at my fear.
The most challenging was when Mr. Marcus had a few colleagues who flew in from California, and he made me perform in front of them. My whole body was wracked with nerves, but I kept my composure as I delivered. I received stellar feedback and praise from industry representatives, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face if I tried.
Charlie was there every step of the way, cheering me on while she compiled her music management portfolio. She’s proud to be following in her dad’s footsteps, and I think he is, too, with how he radiates pride anytime we all work together.
I’ve never been seen or encouraged the way Charlie’s family does. They saw past my broken exterior and took a chance on a girl they didn’t even know. Even Mrs. Lennon is lending her support, getting me to sing at random times of the day while she works in her office or while we clean up dinner.
I have so much gratitude for this family that I want to pay it back in some way. Cleaning and cooking dinner can only go so far. They’ve done so much for me, and it pains me that I can’t do more than what I know.
“Rose,” Mrs. Lennon places her hands on her hips as she gives me a stern stare. I’m stirring a pot of garlic pasta, thesmells wafting through the open kitchen. “I told you I was cooking today.”
“I know Mrs. Lennon, but I wanted to help.” I shrug.
She hums before placing a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I appreciate the help, but you don’t owe us anything, kid.”
I nod, but don’t stop preparing dinner as Charlie grabs the rolls out of the freezer. She’s been helping me anytime I cook and steadily supplying conversation as we work together. It makes the time pass, and we’ve become closer since I started staying here three weeks ago. She’s like the sister I always wanted, and easing into this life has been smooth.
I feel like I really belong here, and that makes my chest pang with what I’ve been missing out on.
Mr. Marcus flies into the kitchen, causing all of us to stop as he holds up two large envelopes. He smiles wickedly, flopping them around. “This is it, girls! Letters are in!”
“Oh, shit,” Mrs. Lennon curses before shoving the placement mats aside on the table. “Come on!”
She pulls two chairs out for us, smacking the seat of them. Charlie bounds right over, smiling so hard her cheeks must be hurting as she motions for me to join her.
I set my spoon down, taking a deep breath. I’ve been preparing for rejection. If I don’t get in, there are other colleges out there. It’ll take a lot of effort and money, but I can do this. Whatever is inside that envelope won’t break me.
It can’t.
I settle down beside my friend, nerves clogging my throat as Mr. Marcus slides my mail in front of me. Paper has never looked so intimidating…
Charlie has no trepidation as she tears into hers. With every sharp rip, my shoulders tense until she begins to read the neatly printed words. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes light up.
“I got in! Partial ride!” She pumps her fist, and Mr. Marcus claps.
“Partial is better than nothing, baby!” He celebrates.
“That’s wonderful! I knew you could do it!” Mrs. Lennon smiles.
All eyes trail to me, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights.
“Come on,” Charlie whispers.
