Skyville Boys

by Mia Belle

  “I wasn’t sure, either.”

  He gestures to the seat next to him. “Join me?”

  I sit two seats away from him, keeping my guard up. It’s a good thing I can’t see his gorgeous eyes in this poor lighting, because I don’t want to forgive him that easily.

  His fingers tap along his knees, like he’s playing virtual piano. I bet there’s a melody playing in his head. I bet he’s composing a tune right now.

  Not that I’m impressed or anything.

  I sit back in my seat and wait. Hopefully this won’t take up the entire lunch period, because I’m starving.

  Finally, his chest puffs up as he takes in a deep breath, and then it goes flat as he releases it heavily from of his mouth. “I owe you an explanation.”

  I continue to wait.

  “It won’t be easy.” He shakes his head like he’d rather jump into a lion’s den than do what he’s about to do. “Not easy at all.”

  “I don’t need an explanation,” I say. “I just want an apology.”

  He shakes his head again. “No, you deserve much more than an apology. And…” His mouth moves, trying to form more words. Then he settles with, “I just don’t want you to hate me.”

  “I don’t…”

  “You do.” He laughs a little. “I’ve seen your face ever since that night at the club.”

  “It’s not hate.” I cross my arms at the sudden chill. “It’s hurt.”

  His eyes flick to mine. He’s quiet.

  I don’t know how long we remain like this, but my stomach will eat itself up if I don’t feed it.

  I sweep my bag off the floor. “Carter, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But I’m starving and I—”

  “No. I want to. I’m just trying to put the words together in a way where you won’t think I’m a total loser.”

  “I don’t think you’re a loser.” I open my backpack and rummage around, and I nearly jump for joy when I find some hard candy. “Want?” I ask.

  “Thanks.” He pops one into his mouth. “You’re nice, Kara. Very kind and considerate. I don’t deserve to be your friend. I mean…”

  I cross my arms again. “I’m not nice.”

  “You are. One of the nicest people I’ve met.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be,” I mutter. “Then maybe my life wouldn’t be so complicated.”

  He watches me for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched. The he runs his hand through his hair. “The reason I have that job…” He takes another deep breath and lets it seep out of his nose. “My job is illegal. I applied with a fake ID. The owner thinks I’m twenty-one.”

  “Why…why did you lie?” I ask.

  “Because I wasn’t sure she’d hire me if she knew I couldn’t drink alcohol.”

  “But she let me perform there.”

  “With your grandmother,” he points out.

  Oh. “Why there, though?” I ask. “Aren’t there other places you can get a job where you don’t have to use a fake ID?”

  His shoulders sag, his eyes anywhere but on me. “It’s the only place I can play piano.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t you have a piano at home?”

  He shakes his head. “Sold it years ago.”

  My mouth clamps shut. I’m really confused.

  His slowly brings his eyes to me. “The next question you should ask is why I need to work in the first place.”

  I shrug. “Lots of kids our age have jobs. I’ve been working since I was a kid.”

  He presses his lips together. “But you don’t have to. If I don’t work, my brother and sisters will starve. We’ll be homeless.”

  I stare at him, my stomach coiling.

  He nods slowly. “Yeah, you heard me.”

  “I don’t…”

  “You’ve played the roles,” he says, yanking his eyes away from me. “I’m living them.”

  It feels like a cotton ball is stuck in my throat. He’s sharing something super personal with me. I stand on shaky legs. “You don’t owe me any explanation. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to. I’ve been a jerk and I’m sorry.”

  I turn to go, but he gently grabs my arm. “Don’t apologize. And please don’t go. I want to explain.”

  “It’s none of my business. Let’s just forget about it.”

  “No. I want you to know.”

  I turn to look into his face. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been keeping this to myself for a long time. Even my friends don’t know. I need to talk to someone about it. And I’d like that person to be you.”

  I slowly lower myself in the seat next to him, my heart twisting and turning in all different directions.

  “I…” He pushes some hair out of his eyes. “I feel like I can trust you.” He laughs lightly. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of how I felt that day after rehearsal. What we shared, I mean. It was…”

  “Magical,” I say.

  He nods.

  I stare down at my knees. “I don’t know if I’m the right person. I mean, I don’t know…”

  “It’s okay.” He places his hand on my arm. “You don’t have to try to make me feel better or offer advice. I just need you to listen. Is that okay?”

  I nod, swallowing hard. But the cotton ball is still there.

  “I don’t want to bore you with the details,” he says. “Long story short, my dad was a great guy. But sometime between baby number four and five, he decided not to be a great guy anymore. Not a great dad or husband.” His bottom lip trembles. “He left us the day my youngest sister Mackenzie was born. My mom…she didn’t have any college education or work experience. They were high school sweethearts. Married right after they graduated and had me a year later. My dad promised her the world. Told her he’d take care of her and always provide for her. They were so in love. I saw the pictures and home videos.” His eyes slowly travel to mine. “Sounds like the perfect love story, huh? The perfect musical. I can hear the score in my head.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I wonder about it every night as I lie awake in bed, what went wrong. Maybe it was me. Maybe I didn’t behave enough or do enough chores or—”

  I rest my hand on his that’s on his knee. “Whatever the reason, it’s not your fault.”

  He stares at my hand on his, then raises his eyes to mine. “That’s what I tell myself, too. That my dad’s just a jerk.” He puffs out his cheeks. “The reason doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I have to help take care of my family. While my mom kills herself working all day, I work a few nights at the club to bring in some extra cash. It’s not a lot,” he admits. “I’d be better off waiting tables. But then I wouldn’t be able to play music. And I need to play music.”

  “I understand,” I say. “Music is everything to you.”

  He nods. “Thanks for understanding. When you and your grandma were at the club that night, I totally freaked. I thought my boss would find out that we go to school together and that I’d get arrested for using a fake ID, and then my mom wouldn’t be able to bail me out of jail because we don’t have the money, and who would take care of the kids if I was in jail and—”

  I squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, Carter. I get it.”

  He searches my eyes. Maybe I don’t understand, exactly, but I understand heartache and sacrifice.

  He pulls his eyes away and frees his hand from my hold. “So that’s my life story. You probably think I’m such a loser.”

  “Why would you say that?” I demand gently.

  “I…I don’t know. You’re so successful and talented and beautiful…”

  “You’re talented, too,” I say. “One of the most gifted musicians I’ve ever met. Maybe your boss and the club-goers don’t see it, but I do. And my grandma did, too.”

  He rubs his nose. I wonder if he’s fighting tears.

  “You should tell your friends about your home life,” I say. “They’d understand.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. Ezra’s p
arents are rich and Jax’s are perfect. I don’t want them to see me differently.”

  “They won’t,” I say. “But you should tell them when you feel comfortable. I know they’ll have your back.”

  He taps his foot. “I know,” he whispers. “One step at a time.” He lifts his head to meet my gaze. “Thanks for listening. There’s something about you, Kara. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t help feeling like…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “What?” I ask. “Please say it.”

  His eyes rove over my face. “I saw how happy you were on stage with your grandma. Like that was the real you. But the girl sitting next to me doesn’t look like the same girl. It’s like you’re hiding behind a façade or are afraid to be yourself.”

  Now it’s my turn to look away.

  “Sorry,” he quickly says. “I overstepped. I guess…I guess I want to get to know the real you.”

  My heart beats rapidly. I feel it all over, pounding in my head. So hard I’m getting a little dizzy.

  “Kara?” His fingers close around my wrist. “You okay? You’re a little pale.” He makes a move like he wants to stroke my cheek, but he drops his hand to his side.

  I tuck my hands under my knees to keep them from shaking. Taking a deep breath, I say, “The reason you feel like I get you…it’s because I’ve also been through something. I…” My voice cracks.

  “It’s okay.” This time, he does caress my cheek, and a pleasant chill goes down my spine. “You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted you to hear my story.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t keep it inside, either. I need to let it out.”

  He nods and waits patiently.

  “I had a stalker. A fan took things a little too far. I can’t go into the details.” My eyes snap shut. “I don’t want to relive it. But he did some messed-up things and I couldn’t take it anymore. So I ran away.”

  “Did the police arrest him?” he asks.

  “Yeah, but it’s more complicated than that. I don’t…I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Kara.” He wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say another word.” He squeezes me against his chest, and I welcome him, his warmth, his protection. His chest isn’t hard but soft and comfortable. It’s the safest I’ve felt in a really long time.

  He keeps his arms around me for the remainder of lunch. I’m not even hungry anymore. But he’s forced to release me when the bell rings.

  “Thanks for sharing your story with me,” he says as we stand.

  “Thanks for explaining your behavior to me, and for your story. And you don’t have to worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m sorry I was rude to you. I guess it hadn’t occurred to me that—”

  “No, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” He smiles. “We’re good?”

  I return it, though my lips are a little shaky. “We’re good. See you at rehearsal.”

  “See you.” His eyes suddenly grow big. “Kara, I think you should speak to Jax.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The whole obsessed fan thing. I get why you’re so uncomfortable around him. He doesn’t understand. Kara, he’s a huge fan of yours, but he’s harmless. He’s got a heart of gold. You don’t have to worry about him. But honestly, you’re kind of breaking his heart. Maybe if you tell him what you told me, you two can come to a better understanding.”

  I shift from one foot to the other. I’ve actually appreciated him keeping his distance. It’s made me feel a whole lot better. But I can’t ignore the hopeless and dejected expression on his face every time he looks at me. It’s been nagging at me, but I always push it away.

  “I’ll see you later, Carter,” I say before walking away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jax

  The cast recording of Matilda is playing. True Kara didn’t originate the role and it’s not her voice I hear, but I like to pretend she’s the star.

  Shawn grumbles from where she’s working on Gaston’s costume. “Can we please put on some heavy metal, Jax? Pretty please with a cherry on top? And sprinkles and fudge?”

  “No way. These songs are so touching. You feel it right here.” I slap my chest.

  She pouts. “Fine, you win today. But tomorrow I’m in charge of music.”

  “This needs delicate hands and careful concentration.” I nod to the gold fabric. “Heavy metal would make me destroy this masterpiece.”

  She rolls her eyes and focuses on her work. After a few minutes, she says, “You’re hardly rehearsing.”

  “Eh, I know my lines and my songs. I want to make sure the hardest costumes are done before I focus on my parts.”

  “I don’t know what you’re more talented at,” she says with a smile. “Designing or acting.”

  “How about both?” I grin.

  There’s a knock on the door, and I nearly sew over my hand. Because Kara Star stands in the doorway.

  We’ve hardly had any interaction since she came in for her measurements. We have a few scenes together, but that’s basically it. I also haven’t really been rehearsing with the rest of the cast because my focus has been on costumes. Anyway, I’m pretty sure she’s here to see Shawn.

  “Hey, Kara,” she greets. “What brings you to the holy of holy rooms?”

  She laughs. “Is that what this place is?”

  “It’s where the magic happens. Just ask Jax. His hands are pure magic.”

  I expect Kara to look at me for a second and then quickly turn away like I’m Medusa. But she takes a hesitant step toward me. “Hi. Can we meet here after rehearsal?”

  I look behind me to see if she’s talking to someone else. But the other two members have gone out to buy supplies and Shawn isn’t behind me.

  “What?” I ask, my voice a little wobbly. “You talking to me?”

  “Yeah,” she says, giving me a small smile. “So can we meet?”

  “Y-yeah!” I say, maybe a little enthusiastically. “Sure. Totally. I’d love to. If you’re down, I mean.”

  She laughs nervously. “Okay. See you then.” She walks away, leaving me gaping after her.

  Shawn’s chuckle stifles the room. “Jax, you’re adorable.”

  I blink. “Huh?”

  “You’re in love with her. That’s so cute.”

  I focus on my work. “I’m not in love with her,” I lie.

  I count the minutes until rehearsal is over, which makes it a little hard to get my work done. My hands are shaky and I can’t concentrate. What does she want to talk about? Is it good or bad? Why can’t I be normal and chill?

  When rehearsal is over, Shawn starts putting away her things. “See you tomorrow.” She leaves the room.

  I try to concentrate on my work, but my brain is fried. I peer at the clock on the wall. It’s been ten minutes and she’s not here. When twenty minutes pass, I lose all hope.

  I must have scared her away. I stand up and pack away my things, when there’s a knock on the door. My breath catches in my throat. She’s standing there, dressed in skinny jeans and a light pink shirt. Her face is bright, like she’s just had a good rehearsal and is on a high.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice wobbly again. “You made it.”

  She takes a few steps into the room. “Can I sit?” She gestures to a chair across from me that’s covered with fabric and sewing supplies.

  “Sure, sure. Just put that stuff…somewhere.”

  She gathers the items in her arms and places them neatly on the side before sitting down.

  I lower myself to my seat, my legs shaking. I wish I wasn’t so nervous around her. “Sorry this place is such a mess,” I say.

  “I don’t mind it. I’ve seen some of the costumes. They’re beautiful.”

  I beam. Maybe a little too much. But Kara just complimented me. I’m on cloud nine.

  Her gaze dips to the fabric in my hands. “Is that the gown?”

  I stare at it as though wondering how it got here. “Oh, it is. I mean, yeah, of
course it is. I’ve been working on it since yesterday.”

  She leans a little closer. “Can I see what you have so far?”

  “Sure, but it’s not much.” I carefully hold it out. It’s been cut to her size, but I haven’t yet sewn the pieces together. I’m in the middle of bedazzling the top layer with sequins and intricate designs.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says with a genuine smile. “It’s so cool that you’re into this.”

  “Really?” I ask. “I mean, thanks. It’s the second thing I love most about theater.”

  “What’s the first?”

  “The acting. Playing the roles. Watching the actors perform.”

  “Is that your dream?” she asks. “To design costumes for theater?”

  “If I don’t make it to the stage, yeah. I’m not sure which I love more,” I say with a sheepish laugh.

  “You have some time,” she says. “I know firsthand how important the costume crew is. Actors would be nothing without them.”

  I beam again. “Thanks.” I carefully lift the fabric. “You’ll be the most beautiful Belle.”

  Darkness passes over her face, and I want to shoot myself in the foot.

  “Sorry,” I quickly say. “I didn’t mean…” I puff out my cheeks. “The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” I make a move to stand.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “I…sometimes you look at me like I’m going to hurt you.” I avert my gaze to my hands. “Sorry. I don’t mean to do that.”

  “Please don’t leave,” she says. “I’m here to talk to you.”

  “Oh.” I carefully put the fabric aside.

  She laughs lightly. “Why did you think I came here?”

  “I don’t know.” I laugh nervously. “Maybe to see the progress of the dress?”

  She’s about to say something, then her eyebrows come down. “Is that Matilda you’re listening to?”

  “Yeah.” Another sheepish laugh. “I like to listen to Broadway cast recordings as I work. Drives Shawn and the others insane, but I’m the boss here.” Another laugh.

  “Wow.” She smiles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those songs. I miss them.”