It wasn’t until I saw the first exit sign for San Bernardino that I realized where my subconscious had led me—home. Not Violet’s sleek beach house but the cookie-cutter ranch my parents bought as their starter home. The place where I grew up, where I’d been happy and my family whole.
By the time I arrived, it was nearly dark. The neighborhood looked older than I remembered, the trees fully grown and a few of the properties in need of some TLC. But nothing could prepare me for when I laid eyes on our old house. The cheerful sky-blue exterior was now a boring tan, and someone had redone all the landscaping, replacing the dahlias and marigolds Mom planted every year with sturdy bushes. Even more unsettling was the new addition over the garage. Had I not known the address by heart, not biked these streets so often as a child that the route was forever ingrained in my memory, I would have driven straight past.
But the part that broke my heart the most was when I snuck into the backyard, scanned the forest edging the lot, and noticed a gap in the trees. There was a wrongness to that gap, and it took three full seconds of staring at the empty space before my mind registered that the tree house Violet and I played in as children, back before there was any ill will between us, was gone. The towering oak tree it was built in had been cut down. All that remained wasa broad stump, a symbolic gravestone, if you will, marking the end of my childhood.
I ran back to my car. Tears were running down my face in silent streams by the time I reached the door, but I didn’t let the floodgates go until I was safely inside. Only then did I allow great heaving sobs to rack my body. Too upset to drive but not wanting anyone to see the blubbering mess I’d become, I leaned my seat all the way back until I was staring out the sunroof. Then I cried and cried, letting my anger and heartbreak pour out of me.
* * *
I woke with a start, not knowing where I was. It took me several bleary moments of blinking at the steering wheel to realize I was in my car and not my bedroom. My cheeks were tight and gritty with that uncomfortable postcry feel, and there was a painful kink in my neck.
What the hell am I doing in here?I thought as I rubbed my eyes.
But then the events of the day came rushing back to me, and I glanced across the street at the unfamiliar building that had once been my home. I’d come here seeking comfort, some sense of familiarity, but only found a strange coldness. My life had changed drastically when my family moved to Laguna Beach, but I never considered how what we left behind might change too. In my mind, this place had remained the same. I should have known that, given time, everything evolved, for better or worse.
I kneaded my chest, right over my heart, but the pain there wasn’t physical.
Not wanting to spend another second here, I righted my seat andpressed the engine start button. As the dashboard flickered to life, I glanced at the digital clock—11:51 p.m.
A sudden sinking feeling pressed against my chest. I paused in thought, then yelped in alarm as it dawned on me. I had less than ten minutes to submit my Juilliard application! The plan had been to submit it once I got home from the recording studio, but now I’d have to do it from my phone. Thank God everything was already uploaded and ready to go.
With my heart stampeding inside my rib cage, I snatched up my purse and rummaged through its contents. When my cell didn’t turn up, I patted my pockets and checked the cupholder where I usually stashed it while driving. It wasn’t there. I even climbed out of the car and looked under all the seats, but…nothing.
My phone was missing.
The last time I’d had it was…at the freaking recording studio.
I must have left it on the bench in my hurry to leave. By the time I drove back to LA and retrieved it, I would miss the deadline. I glanced around in panic, but there was nothing I could do, so I climbed back into the driver’s seat and watched the clock hit midnight.
And just like that, my lifelong dream slipped away.
* * *
An hour later, I pulled into the driveway at Violet’s house.
Even though it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, every light on the main floor was on, and I got a sinking feeling I was in major trouble. Dad kept a strict schedule and was always in bed by ten on weeknights, so why else would he be up at such a late hour?
After maneuvering my car into its spot in the garage, I slumped back in my seat and released a long sigh. Today had been the very definition of exhausting, and I needed a minute to prepare myself before facing whatever punishment waited for me inside.
I only got thirty seconds.
Before I could rally the remaining embers of my energy, the mudroom door was yanked open, casting a golden wedge of light through the gloom. Dad stood at the threshold, his lips pressed together in a way that made my stomach twist.
“Inside,” he mouthed to me. “Now.”
Yikes. This wouldn’t go well.
Not bothering with my purse, I climbed out of my car and followed him into the kitchen.
He pointed at the breakfast nook. “Sit down.”
There was a scary edge to his voice, so I scrambled onto the bench while Dad slid into place across from me. Two empty mugs were perched on the edge of the table, waiting to be carried over to the dishwasher, and I wondered how long he’d been waiting for me. Hopefully not too long.
Instead of diving right into another tongue-lashing, Dad just stared at me. Like an FBI agent about to interrogate his subject. A heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the space between us, and my heart started to pound against my chest.
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” he finally asked.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I felt myself bristle. “Why?” It wasn’t like I had a curfew. Dad was always too busy to care.
