I leaned toward Tessa. “Here they go.”
Amelia shook her head. “That was the second-longest.”
“But Lion King is the highest-grossing,” Izzy added.
“Over 1.4 billion,” Amelia said in agreement.
I thought I would mix it up a bit. I leaned forward. “But . . . here’s a fun fact I bet you don’t know.”
All eyes turned toward me. I made them wait a few seconds.
“The fastest speed ever achieved by a horse was 55 mph.”
Amelia groaned. “Musicals, Shay! We’re talking musicals.”
Tessa elbowed me playfully. “Yeah, Shay. Get your head in the game.”
I laughed, hoping to make up for my crabbiness earlier. I was still feeling my exhaustion practically in my bones, but sometimes you just had to enjoy friend time no matter how you were feeling.
I looked around at the girls who’d adopted me into their lives. We were as different from each other as our fingerprints, but somehow, we clicked. Still, I was the newest to the group and most introverted. I knew for a fact it definitely wasn’t easy for people to get to know me. Amelia and Izzy were open books, and Tessa was at least half-open. But I felt like the pages of my life were sometimes glued shut, and I had to work hard to pry them apart for people.
“The Phantom of the Opera,” I said. “Lindsey Stirling did that song—”
“Yes!” Izzy reached up and high-fived me. “Love that one.”
Score for me.
Time to dampen things.
“I’m thinking about quitting Drama,” I nearly whispered.
Amelia and Izzy didn’t seem to hear me, but Tessa did. I glanced over at her, and her eyebrows rose. She mouthed, “Seriously?”
“What did you say?” Amelia asked.
“Um . . . we really should start homework.”
“Spoilsport.” Izzy unzipped her backpack and pulled out a wad of papers. We actually tried to get some work done, but my concentration was failing along with my will to stay awake. By eight o’clock I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Call it a night?” Tessa said.
“What? We’re just getting started,” Amelia chimed.
Izzy snapped her textbook closed. “Can we please, please meet Stanley?”
I gathered up my homework and stuffed it into the messenger bag my dad gave me for my twelfth birthday. I usually stored the bag in my backpack so I could keep my papers and textbooks separate.
Okay, that very much puts me on the spot. My brain zinged through the excuses I could give of why I couldn’t bring my friends up into the apartment, but my aunt had specifically said I could have them over anytime I wanted.
“Uh . . . I guess,” I finally said.
Izzy jumped up like a kid who’d been told she was going to Disney World. “Oh, my stars, I have been waiting for this for so long. He’s so adorable.”
I’d sent her a dozen photos yesterday when I had a mini photo shoot with the greyhound. I wanted to remember him when he was gone.
“I better check with my aunt,” I said, but when I went to find her, I realized the author event was underway, and she was hovering in the background making sure everything ran smoothly. She didn’t need me bothering her.
A minute later I led our ragtag group up the stairs and into my world. Stanley met us at the door, and just like I had when I first saw the dog, Izzy dropped to the floor to greet him.
I smiled. “He loves people.”
Tessa didn’t have any pets since her mom was allergic, but she was the type of person who could just sit in a room and animals would be drawn to her.
My friends spent a few minutes loving on Stanley, and he soaked it up. Matilda was nowhere to be found—probably downstairs rubbing up against people’s legs at the event, hoping they’d drop a cookie crumb or something.
“This is so cozy,” Izzy said, waving to indicate the apartment.
Was that shorthand for “small”? I knew Izzy’s home was a five-bedroom, two-story house with a huge yard in the same neighborhood as Tessa’s. And Amelia lived in a home that was probably at least three times the size of this apartment.
I knew I shouldn’t have been, but I suddenly found myself self-conscious about our meager living situation. I’d never had a lot of money for nice things, and I was always okay with that. Dad made enough to provide everything I needed, but it’s not like I got a new wardrobe every year. I’d only gotten new clothes if I grew out of the old ones.
I thought about Jade and how she’d made fun of me at school. Here I was, wearing my jeans and a sweatshirt, and my friends all had better fashion sense. Tessa rocked sporty feminine without even trying, Amelia’s flamboyant colors and mismatches were so bold and so her, and Izzy’s cute leggings and Marvel hoodie genuinely expressed her playful, creative nature. Why would they even want to be friends with boring Shay?
Tessa turned toward me to confront my earlier utterance. “Why do you want to quit Drama?”
Amelia’s and Izzy’s heads both snapped up to look at me from where they were sitting on the floor with Stanley. Tessa and I sat on the sofa.
“What?” Amelia gasped.
“You can’t quit,” Izzy added.
I held up my hand. “Guys, be real. I’m horrible at it.”
“No, you’re—”
“Amelia, you told me today I needed help.”
Tessa prodded me again. “It doesn’t come naturally for me either.”
“But you can actually do it,” I said. “Amelia’s right. I can’t get up in front of anyone—I’d rather I did actually get run over by a truck!”
I was being dramatic, I knew, but it was true. It’s why I hated games like charades and Cranium.
“Sometimes you gotta push through,” Izzy said.
“That makes it worse for me. If I push myself, I freeze, and then I start to think about all the ways I’m doing it wrong and overthink everything.”
Amelia climbed up onto her knees. “But isn’t there a part of you somewhere deep inside that finds it liberating to pretend you’re someone else?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I have a hard-enough time being myself.”
Izzy giggled, and I forced a smile, going along with them, letting them think I’d meant it as a joke.
Tessa sighed. “I’m not sure you can get out of the class at this point, even if you want to.”
“Besides, we’d miss you!” Amelia looked up at me with sincere eyes. Then she slapped her leg with her palm. “No, I won’t have it. You are not allowed to quit!”
“Okay, look. Be brutally real. Do you honestly think I have any talent for acting?”
My friends were quiet, and even though I’d asked for their opinions, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted them to be honest.
“I think,” Tessa said, “that you haven’t discovered what you’re good at yet.”
“But definitely not acting.”
Izzy stood up too, and Stanley jumped up with her. “We’re all self-conscious sometimes. That’s normal.”
“No, normal is feeling butterflies in your stomach.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’ve got a swarm of snow geese inside me.”
“Flock,” Tessa said.
“What?”
“It would be a flock of geese.”
I smacked her in the arm, and she laughed.
“I’m being serious,” I said.
Amelia stood up. “So are we.”
My three friends all were staring at me, and even though I knew they cared, I wasn’t sure if that mattered at this point. Drama and me didn’t get along.
“I only took the class because I had to,” I said.
“Let me talk to Ms. Larkin,” Amelia said.
I’m not sure if I like that idea either. I already feel like Amelia went behind my back a little when she was recruited to “help” me.
“At this point I don’t even care if I get a good grade,” I said.
“What about
college?” Izzy asked. “You need a good GPA for that.”
“I don’t care about college either.”
Tessa scooted closer to me. “Shay, it’s okay to be frustrated, but don’t make any rash decisions, okay?”
They didn’t know how much I’d been thinking about this. It wasn’t rash. It was practical. I hated drama class. Saying that, even in my mind, wasn’t easy, but it was true.
I leaned back into the sofa and closed my eyes. I was so tired.
“Hey, let’s call it a night,” Tessa, the ever practical, said.
Izzy and Amelia both hesitated, as if they felt like they needed to stay to talk me out of my madness. In some ways I wanted them to leave, but as they got up to go, I felt the sudden urge to drag out our visit if only to cling to their kindness.
“Sorry,” I muttered at the door.
“For what?” Tessa said.
“I’m just exhausted.”
My friend gave me a kind smile, but I didn’t have the energy to return it.
Chapter 16
I SLEPT IN ON SATURDAY MORNING. It wasn’t intentional, but maybe I needed it. Aunt Laura left me a note telling me she had to leave for a women’s business breakfast she attended once a month but would be back before noon.
I needed to find something to keep me occupied until Tessa came over this evening. I pulled out my phone and checked my emails. I didn’t pay much attention to my inbox ordinarily, but I had subscribed to a few newsletters and tried to keep up with them.
At the top of my inbox was Mason King’s weekly update. My heart jumped a little when I saw it, and I clicked it right open.
The first line stood out: New tour stop added!
When I saw the location, I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open.
Cumberland County Fairgrounds, Riverbend, IN.
The date was two weeks from today.
What?!?
I scanned the rest of the email for any additional info, but there wasn’t any. I was on Mason’s website in a flash, where it confirmed the new tour date. The fairgrounds were only twenty minutes from here!
I jumped up, and Stanley lifted his head from his circular, plush bed on the floor. I started pacing the kitchen. My aunt has to let me go. Even if I don’t meet him, I could at least see him in person. If I propose the idea to her like that, maybe it would fly, and she’d consent. Would my grandparents really have to be involved? What if I got a seat close enough that he could see me? Would he know who I am? Do I look enough like my mom for him to guess? What would Dad think if he knew?
My hands were literally shaking at the idea. I had to tell someone. I grabbed my phone and tapped out a text to my friends:
Guess what???
It took less than thirty seconds for the responses to come.
Amelia: What?
Izzy: Yeah, what?
Me: Mason King added a tour stop in Cumberland County!!!
Tessa: Seriously?
Me: Not joking.
Amelia: Are you going?
Me: I want to so bad!
Tessa: Does your aunt know?
Me: Not yet.
Do I really have to tell my aunt? What if I just go? Isn’t this my decision?
Amelia: This is so exciting! You’re excited, right?
Am I?
Izzy: Can we go with you?
I stared at my phone, startled by Izzy’s question. I hadn’t thought about having my friends along. I don’t know why, but I pictured myself alone, even though I knew my aunt probably wouldn’t let me go by myself. Then again, would she let four teenage girls go together?
Me: I’m still figuring it all out.
Amelia: What’s to figure out?
I wasn’t sure if any of them could fully understand my predicament. Amelia’s parents were busy, but they were there for her if she needed them. Same with Izzy’s. Tessa’s mom was definitely rattled by her husband’s infidelity and their upcoming divorce, but she was surviving. And Tessa’s dad was also still around. She could call him in a pinch, and even though they weren’t on good terms lately, he’d still be there for her.
I didn’t have any of that. Sure, my aunt was doing her best, and maybe in their own way my grandparents were too. But I had a lot to figure out. It annoyed me that Amelia would ask why it was a big deal to me.
Me: There’s just a lot.
I almost smirked. The story of my life these days.
Aunt Laura walked in the door and dropped her keys, cell phone, and bag (she didn’t like calling it a purse) on the kitchen counter. I was lying on the sofa reading Whence the Night Comes. I hadn’t decided if it was too creepy for my taste, but I was close to saying, “Yes, it is.”
I laid the book spread-eagle on my chest. My aunt grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge, cracked it open, and came over to me. She pointed at the sofa, and I moved my legs so she had room. She’d dressed up more than normal for the breakfast, wearing black slacks, a starched, hot-pink top, and a plaid blazer to top it all off.
She dropped onto the sofa and took a long sip from her soda can. “We need to talk.”
“Okay . . .” I sat up. I don’t like the sound of this.
“I’m sure you saw his newsletter.”
“Um . . . whose newsletter?”
My aunt gave me a good impression of what I imagined was a “Mom look.”
“I saw it,” I said.
“I’m guessing you want to meet him.” Aunt Laura rested the can on the sofa’s armrest. “I get that. I really do. I’d feel the same way.”
“Then why won’t you let me?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”
I closed the book.
Aunt Laura sighed. I was trying to be respectful toward her. She wasn’t my mom, but I knew in my heart she wanted what was best for me. I felt it more from her than I did from my grandmother.
“In three years, you’ll be eighteen, and I won’t be able to stop you.” Her voice seemed softer, distant. “I’m not sure I’d be happy with myself if you had to handle something like that by yourself.”
“I just need to know what he’s like.”
Aunt Laura gave me a wistful smile. “I know I’m not your parent, but I do care.”
I managed a nod.
“I want you to stay safe.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing I can confirm.”
I met my aunt’s eyes. “Was he bad to my mom?”
She hesitated and then shrugged. “I never saw anything. It was more in my gut.”
Great.
“He seems nice to the horses,” I said.
“Which is why I’m letting you go.”
It took a second for her statement to register.
“Really?”
Aunt Laura chugged her Diet Coke. “Not saying I agree it’s a good idea, but this is one I think you’re old enough to decide.”
I wanted to hug her. I almost did, but instead I settled for the biggest smile I could muster. “Thank you.”
“I hope it works out,” Aunt Laura said. “I really do.”
“Wait, do I have to tell Grams?”
“Up to you.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how my grandmother or grandfather would react anyway. It’s possible they would refuse to allow me to go, but could they really reinforce that if Aunt Laura is okay with it? They essentially gave up their right to control my life by bringing me here. Yet I wasn’t looking to make waves. I wanted to do the right thing, whatever that was.
“There’s this barn near Tessa’s and Izzy’s neighborhood,” I said, changing the subject. “I was hoping I could check it out sometime, you know, to be around horses again.”
“I’m sure we could manage that.”
“Could I go today?”
I don’t know if it was because my aunt was in a particularly generous mood or if she relished the idea of changing the subject too, but without a word she got up, picked up her keys, and waggled them at me.
“Hurry up, kid. I’ve got twenty minutes.”
Chapter 17
WE DIDN’T TALK MUCH IN THE JEEP, but the silence was a comfortable, understanding silence. It was the first time I felt like my aunt really got me.
After two wrong turns, we pulled up to Green Tree Farm.
“What kind of a name is that?” my aunt said with a laugh.
“Guess there are a lot of green trees?”
“There’s green grass, too, but that doesn’t have quite the ring, does it?”
I hadn’t called ahead of time, and I wasn’t even sure if the farm wanted visitors, but I jumped out of the Jeep. This is one thing I liked about Riverbend. You could be in the middle of town at the bookstore, and in ten minutes escape and actually be in nature.
I waved to my aunt.
She hung out the window. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”
I think she assumed I’d called, and I didn’t correct her. Worst case scenario, I’d be ringing her up in five minutes for a return ride.
“I’m good.”
I turned around and took in the place. From where I stood, I could see several horses in a pasture with white fencing near a barn that looked like it held at least ten stalls and an open stable for horses to take cover in more extreme weather. An outdoor arena with a few jumps and barrels set up was only a stone’s throw away. Three cars were parked in a small lot outside the barn, confirming I might actually have to talk to someone instead of just visiting with horses like I’d hoped.
The Jeep’s engine faded, and I stuck my hands in my pockets. This had seemed like a good idea, but once the security of my aunt was gone, I felt nervous. Especially when I remembered the last time I’d been at a barn.
I really should’ve called first.
Okay, deep breath. Go for it.
I walked toward the barn. It was so quiet out here. In town I was accustomed to the hum of traffic or people talking as an ever-present white noise. Even in the apartment the silence could be interrupted at any moment by a car horn or a shouting passerby. But here? The quiet of fall had settled in, and I could hear the wind rustling the dry leaves of the oak tree towering over the parking lot. Somewhere a wind chime faintly tinkled its song. If this were a movie, some sound engineer might’ve inserted a horse whinny or snort into the soundtrack, but horses were quieter than most people realized. They rarely nickered or called unless one of their buddies left the pasture. Or if it was feeding time. If dinner was coming, all bets were off.
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