María appeared at Olivia’s elbow. “Hey! Have you seen Rose?”
Audrey just about restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m going to find Jen.”
She grabbed her drink and walked over to one of the beat-up couches where Jen was sitting with Cooper and others. Up onstage the little starter band yelled over feedback, and Audrey lifted her camera to capture them as she sat down. “In my next life,” Jen said, her voice loud, “I would like to be the founder of a kick-ass girl band. Y’know, full Courtney Love style. But without the drugs and general mess.”
“Courtney Love isn’t all that,” Audrey said. “Hole was great, yes. But there are so many other badass girls. Grace Jones. Gwen Stefani. Tina Turner!”
“How do you think Gwen Stefani gets her hair so perfect? Swear to God, she has never had visible roots for one second of her blond life.” Jen took a real gulp of her beer, draining the plastic cup. “Maybe I should go blond again.”
Audrey plucked the cup from her hand. “I will never, ever let you do that to yourself. Not after last time.”
“Okay,” Jen laughed, kicking her heels in the air. Jen was the only one of them dressed more like she was going to a club than to watch her friends at a divey bar, and sometimes the hipster-cool people crowding the room smirked behind their hands at her sequins and sparkles. And sometimes Audrey saw Jen noticing that, saw the way her fingers went to her necklaces, gripping them like a comfort, her confidence coming back full force. Audrey often wondered what it was like to have faith—Julian was Jewish, but he fell more on the agnostic side of things. Jen believed in big, mysterious things up above, plans for her life that were all laid out, waiting for her to find her way. Audrey couldn’t get behind that, though; no offense to Jen, she just didn’t groove to that beat. But sometimes when she looked at Jen, she especially wondered what it would be like to have that peace, that comfort.
The crowd in front of them appeared to part then, and Rose stalked through the gap, her face thunderous.
“Hi, princess,” Audrey said, unsuccessfully holding back the bite in her voice.
Rose threw herself down on the other side of Jen. “This band fucking sucks,” she shot back. “It’s giving me a migraine. Who the hell gave them a show here?”
“Chill out,” Jen said. “They’re babies. Give them a chance.”
Up on the stage the three pimple-faced boys pulsed behind their too-big instruments, multicolored hair whipping around. They weren’t actually awful; Audrey kept catching herself moving her shoulders to the bass line.
“So what’s the deal with this Dylan kid?” Jen asked. “He’s kind of cute.”
“He seems nice,” Audrey said. She looked back to the bar for Olivia and Dylan. He’s my oldest friend, Olivia had told Audrey. Knows all my dirty secrets. From the way they’d acted so far during the night, that bond was easy to see. Like right now, how they were standing by the bar with their foreheads almost touching and their faces shining. Looking at them twisted a dagger in Audrey’s spine—that was how she and Rose should look right now. They should be sitting next to each other and laughing at stupid jokes that were funny only to the two of them. They should be getting up and dancing, spinning each other around the way they always did. Instead, they were . . . whatever they were right now. Fighting? At an impasse? Not right, that was for sure.
Audrey watched Dylan throw his arm around Olivia’s shoulders and the way she tipped her head back, laughing at something he said. Jen was right; he was cute, with this easy smile and teeth shining white against his dark skin. “He said I reminded him of his cousin, except not a bitch. Which is a good thing?”
Rose sat still on the couch, her pink-painted lips slightly parted. If Audrey had to name the emotion on Rose’s face, she would have to call it . . . jealousy. Maybe Audrey hadn’t been imagining the electricity between Rose and Olivia, even if that was what Rose would like her to believe. Ordinarily Audrey would have just asked Rose about it, needled the truth out of her—but right now? No.
“He’s . . . all right,” Rose said eventually, reluctantly. “I guess.”
The way she was sitting right then, and the stage lights gleaming in her eyes—Audrey had her camera up to her face before she could even think about it, and the flash bloomed white. Almost perfect.
Rose whirled around. “Audrey—”
“What?” Audrey sat back. “You looked intense.”
Rose sprang up, the swiftness of her movement sending the remains of the beer in her hand spraying over Jen, who let out an indignant cry.
“Not every single second of everybody’s life is a fucking photo opportunity for you,” Rose hissed. “Jesus! Can’t I go five seconds without you getting in my face?”
Audrey instinctively pulled her camera into her chest. Standing up, Rose towered over her, and her expression had tipped from intensity to all-out rage. Audrey blinked, feigning innocence. “It was one pic—”
“I don’t give a shit if it was—” Rose cut off abruptly. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Rose, come on,” Jen said, but Rose turned on her heel and stalked back into the crowd. “Rose!”
Audrey grabbed Jen’s arm. “Let her go.”
Jen threw up her hands. “God, what is going on with you two?”
“What?” Audrey turned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit.” Jen’s eyes glittered behind their layer of dark-blue shadow. “You know exactly what I mean—all the bitching and the sniping and you two cold-shouldering each other. This!” She gestured in the direction in which Rose had vanished. “It’s weirding me out, and I don’t like it.”
“It’s nothing,” Audrey said. She was so used to spouting that lie by now. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried,” Jen said. “I’m confused.”
“Well, don’t be that, either.”
A clashing riot of noise erupted up front, signaling the end of the starter band’s set, and Audrey turned to watch them wave like they were gods before they left the stage. There would be a break before Hera came on, she knew, and she wanted to get closer.
Jen’s fingers still gripped her arm, and Audrey shook her loose, only to clasp Jen’s hand within her own. “I don’t want to deal with it right now. Let’s find Ree,” she said. “And then let’s dance like wild things.”
Audrey could see the reluctance in Jen’s face, could sense how she didn’t want to let Audrey get away with it that easily. But the desire to dance must have been stronger than that feeling, because after a moment her face broke into a wide grin and she did a little hop.
“All right,” Jen laughed. “Let’s go.”
By the time the lights flashed blinding white, Audrey was by the stage, Jen and María right by her side. She didn’t know where Rose had gone, but it appeared that wherever it was, she’d taken Olivia with her—which was kind of annoying, because Audrey wanted Olivia to see the band and how much they kicked ass, to see Julian’s musician side really come out to play. She wanted to show off: yeah, he might have gotten her pregnant, but look how much he shredded!
But Olivia had for sure gone; the Dylan kid hung back at the bar with Cooper, no sign of his friend, and actually looking perfectly unruffled by it. Which was more than Audrey could say about herself, because her brain was running on overdrive—was there something going on between Rose and Olivia, for real? Or was this Rose’s way of getting back at her, latching onto somebody else so Audrey could only focus on the lack of her best friend? That wasn’t the kind of trick Rose usually pulled, but right now Audrey felt like she didn’t know what Rose would or wouldn’t do. That was how far apart they were falling.
She shook all thought of Rose out of her head and turned her attention back to the stage. There were better, more fun things to focus on right now.
Dasha came out first, the lights flashing off her violet hijab as she took her place behind the drums. Julian came next, barely glancing at the audience before st
arting up a vicious bass line, which Dasha quickly added her snare to. Jasmin and Izzy appeared almost at the same time, their black and blond heads touching together before Izzy stepped up to the mic. “Hi,” she said in her throaty voice. “We’re Hera.”
Then they were off into their first song, one that Audrey had never heard before.
María whooped over the noise, bumping her hip against Audrey’s, and Audrey laughed, really laughed, like she hadn’t in the longest time.
They were incredible to watch—not perfect, nowhere near, but with a pulsing energy that marked them out as different from the rest. At least, that was how Audrey felt whenever she watched them play: when she saw Jasmin tossing her cheerleader ponytail as she screamed over Izzy’s voice; when she saw Julian lift his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his eyes or hunch over his guitar, concentration burning; when Dasha bashed the hell out of her kit, like she wasn’t afraid to smash the whole thing to pieces.
It wasn’t just her, though; she could tell from the way the silence between songs was actual silence, how the entire tiny place began to crackle with restless electricity. Izzy had this look in her eyes, pure wanting, and as Audrey lifted her camera to capture it—of course—she had this flash of the future: Izzy holding that power over full arenas, staring out from the cover of Rolling Stone, killing it.
Would Julian be there with her? He always said he wasn’t interested in the fame or being a “rock star,” that it was about the music more than anything else. Production was where he wanted to go—but if Izzy, Jasmin, and Dasha ended up on that path, would he want to go along for the ride?
Maybe.
Jen threw her hands up in the air, jumping somehow in heels she could barely walk in, and Audrey couldn’t help whipping her hair around as the band launched into the next song, a frenetic howl of guitars.
And what if he did go along? That would be incredible. Everybody Audrey knew wanted to be somebody; maybe her boyfriend was one of the people who would actually make it. She would never do anything to hold him back from that.
Sweat pinpricked at the base of her spine, inched down her neck as the band raced through their set, and she sang the words she knew with such voracity that her throat ached. The crowd behind her surged forward, and Audrey went with them, her heart surging, too.
Once upon a time she’d attended a show like this and watched Julian moving up there, the sweat glistening on his face, and when he’d climbed down from the stage, Audrey had walked straight over and asked him out.
Caught up in the moment, singing and yelling and dizzy with it all, Audrey forgot all about everything plaguing her. Being with her friends like this, hooked on the pulse-pounding high of the music and the dancing . . . for once there was no way she could think of anything else but the moment, the right here and right now that was so good.
TWENTY-TWO
How different today was from Saturday night. No lights, no music, and the high had worn way off.
Audrey sat in the waiting room of Dr. Miller’s office, Julian on one side and her mom on the other. Her stomach grumbled, but the only food Audrey had in her bag was a granola bar, and that might as well have been nothing at all.
Her mom flicked through a magazine too fast to actually be reading it, and Julian kept shifting in his chair, feet and hands and head moving to a beat only he could hear. Like Audrey wasn’t jumpy and jittery enough already. “Hey,” she said tersely. “Could you stop?”
Julian folded his arms, hands tucked away tightly. “Sorry.”
Her mom tossed the magazine back onto the low table in the middle of the waiting room. “All right, little miss attitude.”
“You’re making me nervous,” Audrey said. “Both of you. I don’t need to be any more nervous.”
Nervous, and irritated, and ashamed. That morning, on her way downstairs, she’d heard her name in Adam’s voice and stopped right before she came into the kitchen, some instinct kicking in. She’d heard Adam again: “It’s Audrey’s decision. You have to treat her like a grown-up, you know?”
Audrey had pressed herself back against the wall, her heart pounding a little. She should leave. She should definitely not listen in on them talking about her.
“If I had treated her less like a grown-up, then maybe she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant,” she’d heard her mom say. “Dr. Miller is going to judge me so hard. If she didn’t think I was a shitty mom before, then she will now.”
“Babe, the doctor is not going to think you’re a shitty mom. She’s a doctor. She’s supposed to be impartial or whatever.”
The clatter of a plate in the sink. “That’s judges.”
“Eh, same difference. Besides, you don’t have to pay any attention to what anybody else thinks about you or Audrey. I think you’re a fucking awesome mom.”
“It sounds extrasweet with the cursing.”
“It’s true, though.” A chair being pushed back and footsteps that made Audrey retreat farther. “You are an awesome mom. It’s not a reflection on you that your kid got pregnant. This happens.”
Silence, and Audrey had pictured her mom leaning over the sink, shaking her head. “I’m so worried about her. I don’t know what she’s thinking now—if she wants to keep this baby or not—and either way I want her to be taking care of herself right now. Vitamins and eating right and all that stuff . . . I don’t even know, Adam; I’ve never been pregnant. God, I was supposed to give her a better life and protect her and keep her from getting into situations like this! She’s only seventeen. She should be thinking about school and her friends and her boyfriend, not a baby.” Laura’s laugh echoed round the corner then, bitter sounding. “What am I saying—she should be thinking about her boyfriend? Maybe if I hadn’t gotten her birth control pills and said it was okay—”
“But it was okay. They’re teenagers, they love each other, you like Julian, and you trusted them. You do trust them.”
“I know. And they would’ve been having sex whether I said it was okay or not, I know that, too.”
“Definitely. My high school girlfriend’s mom banned us from being alone together in their house, and we still managed to do it in her parents’ bed.”
“Adam!”
“What? I’m just saying. Teenagers, they’re wily.”
“Yeah.” A heavy sigh. “But if Audrey has this baby, she won’t get to be a teenager anymore.”
“Laura.”
“She’ll be changing diapers and singing nursery rhymes while her friends go out and have the fun she should be having, too, and what about college? Everything she wanted?”
“We don’t know that she’s going to keep it,” Adam had said. “She might not, and she’ll still be able to go to art school and do everything. But if she does—”
“Keep it?”
“That’ll be okay, too. We’ll work it out. Hey.” The sound of a kiss then. “She’s still our Audrey. She’s a smart kid. She can take care of herself.”
Another long silence. “She can’t take care of a baby.”
“Laura.” That warning tone in Adam’s voice again.
“What, you think she can?” Pause. “I hope she makes the right choice.”
I hope she makes the right choice. Those words had echoed in Audrey’s head all day. That meant there was a wrong choice for her to make. That meant that her mom thought she’d done something wrong, which—why had she even bothered pretending she wasn’t mad? Up until now she’d felt safe in the knowledge that her mom was behind her. Except now, maybe she wasn’t, and Audrey didn’t know what to think.
The clock on the wall tick-tick-ticked, four minutes to five. Their appointment was on the hour exactly; Julian’s mom was running late, but it was okay. Less time to have to talk to her while trying not to sound weird.
Three minutes to. Shit shit shit.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” her mom said, crossing her legs in their jet-black jeans. At least some things never changed. “You know Dr. Miller’s not scary, and I’m sure she�
�s seen all this before.”
Audrey nodded. “I guess.”
“Julian?” Her mom leaned forward. “You doing okay?”
Julian’s feet started tapping again as he pursed his lips and whistled. “Nervous, too,” he said shortly. “But other than that . . . yeah.”
He slid his hand into Audrey’s, and she rubbed her thumb in circles on his wrist. Two minutes to.
The doors to the waiting room opened and a harried brunette rushed in, a pinched look on her face. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry—the meeting I was in ran so long.”
Julian stood. “Hey, Mom.” He was taller than her now, so when Audrey watched her grab him in a determined hug, her chin barely met his shoulder.
She released him and sank down into a chair opposite. “I thought I might be too late,” she said, turning to Laura. “Are they running on time?”
Laura nodded. “Thanks for coming, Simone.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” Simone reached over to place her hand on Audrey’s knee and smiled reassuringly, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey, Aud. How are you feeling?”
Do people not get sick of asking that question? Audrey pushed her irritation down and gave a shrug. “Okay, I guess.” She wished they could go back in time to before all this, when Simone had no reason to distrust her and her smile was completely genuine. But there was no use thinking that, because they couldn’t go back.
Simone gave Audrey’s knee a squeeze before turning to Laura. “How’s Adam?”
Audrey slipped her hand into Julian’s and watched their moms together. Simone had these fine wrinkles around her eyes, and as Laura pulled a hand through her hair, a cluster of graying strands revealed themselves. Only recently had Audrey begun noticing her mom’s age, in the laugh lines around her mouth and those gray hairs. She was still beautiful, maybe more beautiful because her face was beginning to tell a lifetime’s worth of stories, but it was strange to realize she was no longer the young mom Audrey always thought of.
You Don’t Know Me but I Know You Page 12