I never intentionally try to take attention away from Harmony, or anyone else for that matter. I never want anyone to notice me if I can help it. But even without meaning to, even without trying to, it seems like I’m always doing something to make myself the center of attention, and therefore evenmoreof a burden on my family than I already am.
So I understand why Uncle Aaron is telling me to stay behind. I just wish he would have told mebefore, not in front of everyone like this.
Aunt Hope is the first to recover from the surprise of Uncle Aaron’s announcement, but there’s a long enough pause that I know she hadn’t been informed of this decision beforehand either. “All right, let’s go. Everyone in their usual seats in the van?—”
“I’m sorry,” Lyle interrupts, his head swiveling around to take in what’s happening in the room. “Is there a reason Antonina can’t come along?”
The edge in his voice tells me that he suspects enough to get to at least the surface-level truth of the answer—that I don’t look like the rest of my family—and that this isnotan answer he likes or approves of.
It’s surprising to have an almost stranger try to stick up for me, and if I’m being honest, gratifying, too—but also terribly, terribly worrying, since I see the way Uncle Aaron’s eyes narrow. The rest of his expression stays the same, but there’s a definite squint to his eyes now. That’s never a good sign. He won’t take his anger out on Lyle because he’s a stranger, but later on there will be repercussions—probably for me, since I’m the one Lyle was defending, even though I didn’t ask for it.
To be clear, Uncle Aaron would never hit me or do anything physical to punish me. Even when I was a kid, I didn’t get spanked for misbehaving, not like his own children. His punishments are more creative. They’re designed to embarrass me, to pull me down when he feels like I’m getting too high. To remind me of my place.
I know Lyle means well, but I really, really wish he hadn’t said anything at all.
“Why don’t you worry about your show,” Uncle Aaron says in that quiet but authoritative voice of his, “and let me worry about my family?” He is smiling his handsome movie-star smile, but his eyes are cold.
Lyle clearly does not realize who he’s dealing with. “Why don’tyou—” he starts, in a way that doesnotfeel like the rest of the sentence is going to progress positively.
I quickly intervene. “I don’t mind! Really. I don’t want to be on camera.” I meet Lyle’s gaze, trying to show him how sincere I am. My skirt would clash, after all. And I don’t want to take anything from Harmony, ever. “Really. But thank you.”
A long, awkward pause follows. Then Uncle Aaron moves toward the door, a clear indication the conversation is over. Everyone else follows after.
Harmony lingers behind the others, casting me a regretful look. “I’m sorry, Nina. Maybe he’ll let you come out tomorrow and you can watch the first part of the filming?”
“Maybe,” I echo back with a smile, even though I highly doubt that will happen. Harmony probably doubts it, too, but she’s as powerless as I am to get Uncle Aaron to change his mind when he’s already set in his ways.
“Be right out!” Lyle calls after her. When everyone has left the room, he turns to me and gives me a long, searching look. “Blink twice if you’re in danger.”
How dramatic! I can’t help but laugh. “I’m fine. Uncle Aaron is just stubborn sometimes.” I gesture around the suite. “I’ll be fine here. I never get time alone.”
That much is true. I’m in a beautiful suite in a beautiful hotel. What a blessing to get the entire space to myself. I might even be able to choose somethingIwant to watch on television!
Lyle looks at me doubtfully. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I’m not from LA. My family’s from Oklahoma. Okay? So I know the whole megachurch pastor vibe. And believe me, I get not fitting in.” He gestures down to his pastel blue pants and matching ascot. “My brother and dad are both part of the rodeo.” He shudders visibly. “Therodeo. And the only bull I’ve ever ridden is—” Something about my expression seems to make him reconsider finishing that sentence. He clears his throat. “Anyway, the point is, I know what it means to need to escape some uncomfortable family dynamics. If you need me, call me.”
He slides a card into my palm, then on second thought fishes something else out of his pocket—his car keys.
It takes me too long to realize what he’s offering me. I draw my hand back instinctively. “Oh, no, I can’t drive your car.”
“Go explore the town,” he insists. “Get out of this hotel room. Buy a drink, if you like! But don’t sit in here like some sad little mouse, or I’ll corrode with guilt.”
I ... don’t know what to say. In all the years I’ve lived with him, my uncle has never let me drive his car. I had to learn how to drive the fifteen-passenger van so I could help do the grocery shopping and take my younger cousins to tutoring and youth worship, of course, but my uncle’s Hummer? Never in a million years.And yet Lyle, who’s basically a stranger, offered his keys to me in less than a couple days of knowing me.
His generosity is incredibly sweet—in an entirely overwhelming way that makes me worry I might break out into hives. “I can’t.” No use pretending the reason is anything other than what he suspects it is, I guess, since he just saw everything. “If Uncle Aaron found out ...”
“Uncle Aaron won’t find out.” Lyle pulls out his phone. “Here. Put in your number and I’ll text you when we’re on the way back.” His eyebrows arch theatrically at me as a new thought seems to strike him. “They let you have a phone, don’t they?”
It’s not an entirely unfounded question based off what he’s seen, but I still can’t help but laugh at the drama of it all. I know Uncle Aaron is strict, but it’s not like I’m a prisoner. Emotions can get heightened sometimes, and sure, I wish I had more freedom, but overall things are fine. “Yes, I have a phone.” I roll my eyes a little just to show him he doesn’t have to be as worried as he clearly is.
But somehow, I find myself giving him my number and reluctantly taking his keys. Not because I need to escape. It just seems so important to Lyle that I get out, I feel like I have to do it, so he knows things aren’t as bad here as he seems to think they are. “Thank you.” A new thought strikes me. “But how will you get to the filming?”
He grimaces. “I guess I’ll be catching a ride in the van.” With another visible shudder, he puts back on his Hollywood-producer megasmile, then turns and charges toward the hallway. “Oh, Millers ... !”
At first, I don’t intend to really use Lyle’s car. I plan to just stay in the hotel room and pretend I went out when he comes back. But then the cleaning staff comes in and starts acting cagey about having me in the suite, and I feel too awkward just sitting down in the lobby by myself, so I figure, a little drive into town wouldn’t hurt.
That’s how I wind up drivingan electriccarfor the first time in my life. Luckily the streets of Green Valley aren’t too busy, because I’m freaking out behind the wheel of this thing. It feelsexpensive. And it’s so quiet! I keep thinking the engine has cut out and start frantically hitting the brakes, only to realize the car is just a soft purr instead of the loud roar I’m accustomed to.
Oh, heavens. I’m going to crash this thing. I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life paying off my debt.Again.I don’t know how much a car like this costs, but I bet it’s a lot. I’m sure I resemble an octogenarian, sitting as close to the steering wheel as I can get, hands in the ten and two position, driving about fifteen miles under the speed limit. I’ve gotten a few honks—okay, alotof honks. I finally put on my hazards and hope that people will just go around me.
