Audition & Subtraction (16 page)

“I understand, I really do,” I said, my voice a thready whisper. “But you can't ask me to do this. Please.”

“I won't,” she said. “You're right.” She wiped her cheeks dry and nodded. “It would only be if you wanted to.”

If I wanted to?

“I would never forget it,” she added. “Not ever. And I'd make it up to you. I don't know how, but I would. I swear. Because you're the best friend there is. You always come through for me. Always.”

She looked at me, pleading, and I thought of all the times I'd looked at her just the same way.

Save me, please.

And she had. From that first day of school when she saved a spot next to her and every day after when I'd known I had a best friend. A friend who liked me as much as I liked her—who liked me better than anyone else.

When I'd been too scared to go off the high dive at Y summer camp, Lori had climbed up and gone off with me, holding my hand, even though it was against the rules. In sixth grade, when I panicked over auditions and couldn't see myself ever performing, she'd brought me a duet and I'd seen my first glimmer of hope. And when Dad and Mom sat us down at the breakfast table to tell Andrew and me about the separation, it was Lori's house I'd run to, gasping and crying. I hadn't been able to take a full breath until it was just the two of us in her rainbow-sherbet room.

And now, she needed
me
to save
her.

By giving up my dream.

I shifted over so I lay on my back. The stars glowed down at me, though the Milky Way had started peeling off the ceiling. I'd have to fix that tomorrow.

If only I could fix everything else.

“I'm kind of tired,” I managed to say through the heavy lump of tears stuck in my throat. “I'm going to go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said softly.

She reached over and pulled me into a tight hug. “I'm so lucky to have you.” Her shirt felt scratchy on my cheek. “Best friends, right?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. Then I eased away from her and flipped over onto my other side.

I could hear Lori's even breathing behind me. My
eyes burned like they were tired, but I wondered how I could ever fall asleep.

Or maybe I was asleep.

Maybe this was just a bad dream. I tried to remember sitting with Aaron and holding his hand. I tried to remember what Totally and Completely Cool had felt like.

I looked around Lori's room—at the outline of the beanbag chairs and her desk. Her room was almost as familiar as my own. I'd always felt at home here, right from the beginning. So why did I feel so lost?

All of a sudden, I wished I was in my own bed. Tomorrow was Sunday. Sunday mornings at home, we used to get doughnuts and eat them in the family room in our pajamas. I got a chocolate long john with sprinkles, and Andrew got the one with maple frosting, and Dad liked cinnamon twists, and Mom always said none for her, but we'd bring her an apple fritter anyway, and she'd eat every bite.

I squeezed my eyes shut against a wave of tears. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be a kid again. I wanted to hold my dad's coffee cup while he drove us to the store, and I wanted to press my nose to the doughnut case and watch the lady fill our box. I wanted us all to sit together on a big blanket in the family room and have Mom tease me for getting frosting in my hair. I wanted to laugh at Dad and Andrew arguing over the sports page while they shared the same glass of milk.

I wanted to go back to before Michael Malone moved here, before I'd stopped wanting doughnuts because Lori said they had too many calories. Back to before Mom dressed up in hairnets and Dad lived somewhere else. Before things had gotten so complicated.

Back to when it had been enough just to be part of Tay-Lo.

I found Aaron between mystery and science fiction. He sat in a plaid purple armchair, his hair shaggy and covering his eyes again, an oversized book across his lap.

“Hey,” I said, dropping into the chair next to him.

He looked up and broke into a huge smile. “Hey.”

No guy had ever smiled at me like that. Make that no human being. For the first time all day, I felt like smiling back.

I crossed a foot over my knee, running a hand around the toe of my sneaker where Lori and I had drawn hearts and stars in red Sharpie. I'd felt a little nervous on the drive over—I'd never met my boyfriend at the bookstore before. I'd never had a boyfriend to meet. Then again, it was just Aaron.

The Aaron who'd kissed me last night.

Butterflies whipped around my stomach every time
I thought about it. And I'd already thought about it a million times this morning. For one thing, it was way better than thinking about Lori.

He pointed toward the self-help section. “Who is that?”

I looked over and groaned silently. “That's my mom. Ignore her.”

She'd driven me here and promised not to bother us. I should have made her promise not to stalk invisible enemies in the aisles. I covered my face with a hand and cringed through the gap in my fingers. That's what she was doing, her knees bent as she crept around a shelf of self-help books, popping her head up every few seconds to look toward the door.

“Does she have bad knees?”

“She's pretending to be a secret agent nurse,” I said, “for the play she's in.”

He studied my mom with new interest. “That explains the shoes.”

I groaned again, this time out loud. I'd told her not to wear the rubbery white shoes. “At least the bookstore is carpeted,” I said. “On tile floors, it sounds like she's walking on bags of potato chips.”

“She has to wear them in public?”

“Her director wants her to develop a character walk. It was her idea to wear them twenty-four-seven. She's also taken to wearing basketball nets on her head.”

He grinned. “She looks like she's having fun.”

I turned toward my mom again, trying to see her as Aaron did. Other than the crab-walk and nurse shoes, she looked like anybody else, I guessed. Come to think of it, her eyes didn't have that tired red look today. And she'd been smiling when she picked me up from Lori's house. I'd asked about the acting exercise last night. She said they'd gotten strange looks at Denny's (
what a shock!
), but she'd had fun.

Fun?

“She does seem okay, doesn't she?” I said slowly. “Maybe she's in denial.”

“Is she working things out with your dad?”

“I don't think so,” I admitted. “They hardly see each other, and all I ever hear them talk about is Andrew and me. Besides, it's not like Dad's going to swoon at her feet if she's wearing those shoes.”

“Yeah, but guys love the basketball-net look.”

I couldn't help but smile. “You're an idiot.”

“And you have a thing for idiots?”

I laughed. “Looks that way.” I pointed to his book. “So what are you reading?”

“A book on stars. Figured I'd better read up so I know what you're talking about.” He leaned toward my chair. “Astronomy is pretty cool.” He pointed to a picture that looked like a red firecracker across a black sky. “When big stars die, they explode.”

“That's what's cool? Dying stars?”

“Exploding stars.” He grinned. “I googled the hotel
for Saturday night. It's next to a desert preserve, so I bet we'll see a ton of stars.”

I nodded, but the butterflies flapped in my stomach again. This time, in a bad way. Saturday night reminded me of Saturday. And auditions. And Lori asking me to screw up so Michael could make it ahead of me.

“What is it?” Aaron asked. “You just turned three shades whiter.”

“It's something that happened last night.” I tugged on my ponytail, tightening it. “With Lori.”

He shook back his hair, his expression wary. “And?”

“She brought up Michael again. She says it's really important for him to make District Honor Band.”

“So you told her it's important for you, too, right?”

“A few months ago I wasn't even going to try for Wind Ensemble.”

“But you are now.”

“Lori doesn't think I have a chance.”

“What?” The book almost fell off his lap. “She said that?”

“Not in so many words.” I dropped my head against the chair cushion. I'd hardly slept all night, and my head ached. “Maybe she's right. Maybe I've just been stupid about all of this.”

“About what?”

“About thinking I'm better than I am.”

He set down the open book, shaking his head the whole time. “Okay, now you are being stupid. Who cares what Lori thinks?”

“She only said what I was half thinking myself. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Michael got the spot.”

“What?” He stared at me like I had a hole in my head. Maybe I did. It was pounding bad enough.

“It would mean a lot to Lori.”

“So?”

“I wouldn't even have made District Honor Band last year if not for her.”

“You don't know that.”

“She's always been there for me, Aaron. When my parents split, I practically lived at her house.”

“So?” he snapped again.

“So, this is really important to her, and I can do something about it.”

“Do what?”

A lump rose in my throat and I swallowed hard. “I can let Michael win.”

His jaw dropped. “You're kidding me, right?”

“It's not like I want to.”

“Then don't!”

I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple. “She's my best friend. If I don't do it, she'll say District Honor Band means more than she does.”

“So?”

“Would you stop saying that!” I cried. “Friends make sacrifices for each other. You just don't understand.”

His eyes narrowed, the dark rim of his irises looking almost black. “You think I don't understand? I sat in the second row all year just to be by you.”

“What?” I shook my head, hardly able to make sense of it. “You did what?”

“I should be sitting first row, probably first chair. But I told Mr. Wayne not to move me up.”

“But … For me?”

“Why do you always sound so shocked?” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, for you. Maybe it was stupid, but I was only screwing up myself. What Lori is asking … that's messed up.”

“She's desperate,” I said.

“You kidding me? You're going to defend her? Do you even see what's happening?”

“Yeah, I see.” Tears squeezed out of my eyes. Didn't Aaron see he was making it all worse?

Instead, he leaned closer, his voice like sandpaper on my nerves. “She's using you, and you're letting her.”

“I am not.”

“It's beyond lame.”

His words stung and anger filled me. “If that's what you think, then why are we even going out?”

His head jerked back like I'd hit him.

I covered my mouth with a hand, as if I could hold back the words that had already escaped. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Let's not fight, okay?”

“Then what should we do?” he growled. “Or do you want to ask Lori what she thinks?”

“Stop it, Aaron, please!”

He reached for the star book, flipped some pages, and then shoved it onto my lap.

“You want to know something else I just read?” He stabbed at the page with a finger. “Some of the stars you see in the sky right now are dead. They've been dead for years. You're looking at something that's not even there anymore. That's your friendship with Lori.

He stood up, turning his back to me. “I'm out of here.”

I watched him stride away.
He'd given up first part to sit by me?
Good thing I was so numb. Or I had a feeling that would hurt more than I could handle.

Silently, tears dripped onto the book. It looked as if even the stars were crying.

“Begin whenever you're ready.” Mr. Wayne crossed his hands over his wide middle and leaned back in the chair. His office smelled like coffee and mints. Usually, it was a good smell, but today my stomach gurgled as if I had a leaky pipe inside me.

I glanced at Lori, who sat beside me, and pressed a hand over my belly. Maybe it was something I'd eaten. Only I hadn't been able to eat much for the last few days.

Today was Wednesday, our final play-through for Mr. Wayne. Only three more days until auditions and our night at the hotel. I'd looked forward to it for so long.

Now I dreaded it.

Outside Mr. Wayne's office, Brandon paced back and forth, waiting to do his solo. Mr. Wayne had scheduled
us for fifteen-minute slots. By now we were supposed to have our pieces down.

“You ready?” Lori asked softly. I could tell she was worried, but was she worried about me? Or Michael?

No, I'm not ready.
I had a dry reed, a dry mouth, and sweaty palms. But I nodded. She counted off the beat, and I took a breath.

Two measures in, I squealed like a pig on its way to becoming bacon. My cheeks flushed hot. I stopped and wiggled my ligature. “My reed wasn't on straight,” I lied.

Lori counted off the beat again, and this time I squealed on the third note.

Lori shot me a look. I shot her one back.

I could just guess what she was thinking.
Don't mess up yet, Tay. Wait for Saturday and your audition with Dr. Hallady—when it really counts.

I blinked, waiting for the music to come back into focus. She counted off the beat a third time. I took a breath—

And squealed on the opening note.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Is there a problem with your instrument?” Mr. Wayne asked.

I shook my head, too miserable to say a word. Mr. Wayne hadn't brought up the solo again—even he'd realized I was totally hopeless.

Like Aaron had.