This was a betrayal.
“Oh, geez,” Alex moaned. As if he could feel the temperature rising in the car, he slid back to his seat and rolled down his window.
“I mean, now that we’re here, you might as well talk to her.” Reggie leaned over the center console, gripping my headrest.
“I just don’t think it’s the right time,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It’s nobody’s call but Luke’s. You can’t just make someone be cool with their parents.” Alex folded his arms, scowling to himself as he stared out the window. I got the sense that he wasn’t just talking about my situation—he was also talking about his wobbly relationship with his own folks. To my surprise, Reggie also caught his drift.
“Sorta get where your head’s at, man.” Reggie gripped Alex’s shoulder, nodding with understanding.
The brakes squeaked to a halt as Bobby pulled in front of a familiar redbrick house. The cactus near the front door looked the same, albeit a bit bigger. And the large front windows were open like they always were. In fact, everything looked the same. It was as if I’d never left home.
Had they missed me? Had they even noticed I’d been gone?
My mom’s ancient station wagon sat idle in the driveway, and it elicited the same reaction it always did. A surge of adrenaline shot through my veins—I was obviously nervous about the possibility of seeing her again. I slouched in my seat, sliding down so that my forehead barely cleared the bottom of the window.
“Look, you can be mad at me all you want,” Bobby said, unlocking the doors. The locks sprang up at attention. “But your mom is inside right now. And you should give her this.”
He set an envelope on the center console. The corners looked worn and there was a crease down the middle of it, like he’d been carrying it around for a while. I recognized it immediately—these were the tickets we were supposed to give our friends and family.
“They couldn’t come?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting together.
“I didn’t even bother asking.” He shook his head with a huff. “My mom is on the road to support my brother at his football game. She wouldn’t miss that for our show.”
“I mean,” Reggie said, scooting forward, “if you don’t wanna talk to her, you could just leave the tickets at the door.”
“Or leave a note?” Alex offered.
“I guess,” I said, wondering what I would say. It would take ages to condense “Unsaid Emily” into a letter, and we didn’t have the time for that. I could always keep it short and simple: I love you. Talk soon? But that left the door open for her to say she didn’t want to see me.
That’s what she’d said the last time I’d seen her—that she couldn’t even look at me.
I eyed the front door, my eyes narrowing. I’d vowed never to come back here. I thought I was done with this place—forever. But even from the other side of the street, I could feel its pull. It was the gravity that home had on me.
And yet, there was still a nugget of uncertainty in my chest.
Before I could come to a decision, Bobby snatched the tickets off the center console and grabbed his door handle.
“If you’re not gonna give her the tickets, then I will.”
The van shuddered as Bobby slammed his door. With a nervous glance back at us, he walked toward the Pattersons’ house. Luke scrambled over the gearshift to the driver’s side of the car and cranked the window down as fast as he could.
“Get back here!” Luke hissed at Bobby’s retreating figure. But he couldn’t hear him. He was already across the street. “Bobby! So help me …”
Luke opened the door and tumbled out headfirst. Hopping up from the asphalt, he wiped his hands on the bottom of his shirt. Correction—my shirt. His arms pumped at his sides as he marched after Bobby.
Reggie leaned against the window, his nose pressing against the glass. He exhaled sharply, making the glass fog up. He wiped away the haze just in time to catch Bobby breaking into a jog to avoid being caught. Luke matched his pace, his arms outstretched as if he was ready to tackle him.
“You think this will end well?” he asked, turning to look over his shoulder at me.
“I don’t know, man.” I sighed, wondering what Luke would do if he actually caught up with Bobby. “I just hope they come back soon.”
This detour was not in the green folder, and we now only had thirty minutes to get downtown and find parking before our Spin photo shoot.
“Dang!” Reggie brought his hand to his mouth as Luke grabbed Bobby by the scruff of his leather vest. He dragged him off the driveway, and they both fell into the nearby bushes.
Honestly, what was the point in lending him a clean shirt if he was just gonna roll around on the ground?
Reggie looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Five bucks says Luke clobbers him.”
“What? No way it’s going to get to that point.”
“I’m going to make sure neither of them does something they regret.”
“Wait, Reggie!” I threw my arms up, then brought them down. They hit the pleather seats with a loud slap. “Okay. Does anyone care if we’re on time?”
I jogged across the street after my bandmates and found our guitarists wrestling across the lawn while Reggie half-heartedly tried to intervene.
“Dude, I’m trying to help!” Bobby yelped.
“Give it to me!” Luke said, pinning Bobby to the ground.
“Guys, I’m not loving this vibe.” Reggie picked out some grass clippings from Luke’s shaggy hair as he rolled by.
“You’re gonna rip the shirt even more,” I said, wincing as the frayed shoulder caught on a stray twig poking out from one of the bushes. We didn’t have time to factor in a wardrobe change today. But Luke wasn’t listening. “You do realize we have to be photo ready in less than a half hour?”
“Okay, fine! You can have the tickets.” Bobby released the envelope from his grip. It fell to the grass, looking more tattered than ever. “Alex is right—it’s your call. But just so we’re clear, I was seriously only trying to help.”
“Duh.” Luke snatched the tickets off the lawn and crawled away from Bobby. He leaned back on his elbows, closing his eyes as he caught his breath in the afternoon sun. “Just give me time. I don’t wanna mess this up, you know?”
The sound of the front door opening snapped our attention back to the house. I crouched to the ground so that whoever it was didn’t see me. I gripped Reggie by the bottom of his leather jacket, bringing him down to hide with the rest of us.
But rather than hiding, Reggie crawled on all fours and sidled up to the bushes. He poked his head just above the leaves, then looked back at Luke and whispered, “Your mom’s coming.”
Prying the thick leaves apart with my fingers, I caught sight of Mrs. Patterson walking toward us. She looked exactly how I remembered her, with her brown hair falling just beneath her shoulders and her clunky garden clogs that she wore everywhere but the garden. Her gaze wandered over to the hedgerow, and I tugged on Reggie’s jacket so that he would duck below the line of sight.
“She’s coming this way. And she’s gonna see me looking like this.” Luke folded his arms around his knees, shaking his head. “This is not how I wanted this to go down.”
“What are these flowers called?” Reggie stuck his face farther into the bushes, breathing in the scent of the white flowers. “They smell wonderful.”
“Reggie, shush!” I whispered, though it came out more like a hiss. I turned back to see Luke’s mom taking a seat behind the station wagon’s wheel. I gripped Luke’s shoulder firmly, getting his attention. “She’s leaving. It’s now or never, man.”
This was not the time to be paralyzed by pride and indecision. If Luke wanted to give her tickets to tonight’s show, he’d have to do it fast. The rickety old Volvo roared to life and rocked forward, like Mrs. Patterson had shifted the gear into drive.
“I’m not just gonna jump out of the bushes and say, ‘Surprise, Mom! Did ya miss me?’ ”
“That wouldn’t be the best look,” Reggie agreed seriously, and Bobby hunched over, covering his mouth to muffle his laugh.
Luke’s lips twitched as he fought a smile.
The station wagon lumbered down the driveway and slowed before turning onto the street, driving in the opposite direction of our parked van. Luke hopped up, pursing his lips as he looked down at Bobby. After a moment he held his hand out for him to take. He heaved Bobby into a standing position, his jaw tight, and then he clapped him on the shoulder.
“Tomorrow—after we’ve crushed our show at the Orpheum—I’ll come see my mom. But this time, it’ll be on my terms.”
I left Flynn at her house, hoping that she could survive her mom’s tofu onslaught for a couple more hours until dinnertime. When I got home, Carlos was in the front yard, dressed in his striped baseball pants and numbered jersey, which I recognized as his game day uniform. He swung his bat back and forth, practicing his form. He’d spent the entire week binge-watching baseball movies to work on his game. Now he was up to bat.
But first, it’s time for a little payback.
I raised my white garment bag in front of me, wiggling it above the bushes so that it looked like a ghost.
“BOO!” I boomed from behind him in my best demon voice.
“AHHHHH!” he yelped, dropping the bat on the grass.
“Vengeance is mine!” I threw my head back in a cackle, quite pleased with myself. I grabbed his shoulders and rattled his stance. “Admit it. You thought I was a ghost, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t,” he said, stamping his foot like a little kid. “I wasn’t scared. I’m not scared of anything.”
“Not anything?” I asked, folding my arms. When he shook his head, I asked, “What about homework?”
“Okay, maybe.” He laughed, conceding. “By the way, Mom wanted to talk to you when you got back.”
“Where is she?” I was eager to show her my new dress—the dress.
“She went upstairs to take a nap like an hour ago. She might be up now, though.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, the dress bag bumped up and down in my arms as I rushed to show my mom. I made it to the second landing in less than a minute, then opened my parents’ door slowly. If my mom was still sleeping, I didn’t want to wake her.
Aunt Victoria had left, but the smell of nail polish and acetone still lingered in the air. And my mom’s pedicure bucket was still set underneath her bedside chair. Thankfully she was awake, propped up by a pile of pillows while she sorted through a handful of mail. I knocked softly on the doorframe, and she looked up with a soft smile.
“Hey, chica.” She waved me over.
I slid some of the discarded envelopes to the side and sat next to her, folding the garment bag into my lap. Her bed was a mess of papers—quinceañera catalogs, venue brochures, and unsorted mail. And her laptop was open and resting on her lap. It didn’t look restful at all.
“I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap.”
“I tried, but there’s just so much to do!” She slapped the sea of catalogs around her, making them bounce. Then she gripped her temples with both of her hands. “Algun día voy aprender a tomar un día libre.”
“I don’t think you even know what a day off is, let alone how to take one.” I laughed, but then I was distracted by something on the bed. “Oh, I like this one.” I grabbed a sample invitation, feeling the filigree underneath my fingers.
“Isn’t it pretty? It reminded me of you when I saw it,” Mom said, sighing with satisfaction. She pointed to my dress bag. “What’s that?”
I hopped up, eager to show my mom what Flynn and Misha had picked out. I laid the bag across my mom’s legs and unzipped it, parting the two sides to reveal my dream dress. Mom’s breath hitched as she caught sight of the beadwork, and her hand immediately shot out to trace the intricate stitching and pearls.
“Flynn’s mom brought it home from her shop. She pulled it as soon as it arrived so that no one could buy it before I saw it.”
“Jules.” She looked up from the dress and into my eyes, her lip trembling. She put her hand on my arm. “Can I see it on?”
I nodded, and she sprang into action, ripping away her covers and jumping out of bed. She gathered the dress in her hands and ushered me into her bathroom. I closed the door and changed quickly—I was as excited as she was, and I couldn’t wait to see what the dress looked like on me.
For months I’d been hoping to find my quinceañera dress—and hoping that Carrie would help me shop for one. I loved all the stuff at Misha’s shop, but Carrie was able to get into the coolest boutiques in Beverly Hills and Malibu since her dad was a famous musician. And I guess I felt like I had to pick a dress from one of those fancy, exclusive shops to be noticed—particularly by Nick. Like, after seeing me in an expensive and over-the-top dress, he’d fall head over heels for me. And maybe a girls’ day out with Carrie was all it would take to get our friendship back on track.
I should have known better.
But now that I had a dress that was so me—picked out by my ride-or-die best friend—my vision for my quinceañera had shifted. Those other people didn’t matter, and I didn’t have to be fancy to impress anyone. All that mattered now was how I felt in this dress.
I hope it fits!
I couldn’t quite reach the back zipper, so I opened the bathroom door and asked for a little help. Mom was right on the other side of the door, waiting not-so-patiently to see the dress, and she pulled the zipper up, sniffling under her breath. Grabbing my shoulders, she guided me to the full-length mirror, which hung on the back of the door.
I inhaled sharply as I turned from side to side, listening to the layers of tulle swish against the carpet. The skirt looked so delicate compared to the bodice, which really upped the ante with its swirls of pearls and dark sequins. I looked like a glammed-up, rock-and-roll goddess.
This is my quinceañera dress.
“Di algo, mami. Don’t you love it? Yes or yes?”
Mom wiped underneath both eyes with her fingers. “I can’t wait to see you dance in it, to see you sing in it.”
“We’ll sing some of our songs.”
“Promise?” Her nose twitched as she let out a little sob.
“Don’t cry, because then I’ll cry, too.” My lip was already trembling, and I knew I couldn’t take much more of Mom’s tears before I burst into my own. We were two sides of the same coin.
Holding out her hand, she grabbed mine and twirled me around, and all of a sudden, I felt like I was six years old in my first poufy dress. I’d insisted on wearing it almost every day, and my mom would spin me in circles, over and over again until I got dizzy and collapsed on the ground in a pool of giggles.
This afternoon was no different.
After a few turns around the room, I dropped to the edge of my parents’ bed, my vision slightly, delightfully blurred. When my eyes refocused, my mom’s notebook caught my attention.
“What’s this?” I peeked at the page. It was something I’d never seen before. “ ‘Wake Up.’ Are you working on a new song?”
“Honey, I’m always working on another song.” She laughed. “This one is something special. I can just feel it. But it needs a lot of work—much more than our song.”
“I think I have something for our untitled masterpiece, by the way.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and knelt down for my backpack, digging for the scrap paper in the front pocket. “I thought of it when I was at Flynn’s.”
“Give it a go.” Mom waved her hands excitedly as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“Without music?” I wasn’t sure if my voice could fully carry the song a capella. Singing without my piano always made me feel too raw—bared for all to see.
“Don’t be bashful. You sing from your soul, tu alma, from right here, mija.” She patted her chest, right over her heart. “It’s just you and me.”
“Okay. Here it goes.” I let out a heavy sigh and sank into
the spot beside her, looking down at the page. The strength of the words hit me as I skimmed the lyrics again. I’d channeled my defiant spirit into these lines—all my frustration and sadness about Carrie, my stress from starting at a new school, and my dead-end crush on Nick. I channeled it into this song because I could always find comfort in my music. “This is what I was thinking we could do for the pre-chorus.”
“That’s my girl!” Mom clapped her hands, her eyes brimming with pride. She bounced off the bed, even more energized than she had been moments ago. She yanked my dad’s ukulele off the top of his dresser, and plucked the tiny strings, giving me backup music. “Let’s start from the top.”
“And then the new pre-chorus!” I jumped off the bed and joined Mom on the other side of the room.
“See? I told you—anything is possible if you put your mind to it. This song is going to be incredible once we finish it.” Then my mom’s eyes widened with mischief. “I have an idea. Come with me to the studio.”
By the time we arrived at Spin magazine, the air between Luke and Bobby remained a little tense. Luke was clearly still thinking about the close encounter at his parents’ house, preferring to stay a few paces behind the rest of us as we walked through the sliding doors of the California Plaza tower in downtown Los Angeles—or DTLA as us insiders called it. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls of the huge lobby as we approached the receptionist’s desk. A guy in a tailored black suit greeted us by holding up a finger.
“Please hold,” he said into his headset. He typed something into his computer, then looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “Name?”
“Reggie Peters’s the name, and playing bass is my game,” I said with a smirk. I looked around at my boys, who were varying degrees of meh. The receptionist blinked at me, expressionless.
Geez. Tough crowd, am I right?
“We’re Sunset Curve,” Alex said, stepping forward. He riffled through the pages of our worn band folder and pulled out a sheet of paper with our photo shoot information on it. “We’re here to see Bernadette Read at Spin.”
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