Chapter Three
Layne
I startled at the sound of another voice in the room. When I realized it belonged to none other than Wyatt Nash, I wished I actually was invisible.
Ever since Wyatt transferred to Northwood last year with his James Dean good looks, posh British accent and too-cool-for-school attitude, he became every girl’s desire.
Well, every girl but me.
Wyatt Nash was pretty much the bane of my existence and he didn’t even know it.
Last year he ruined Lola’s prom, which subsequently ruined my prom too because Lola was too devastated to go. But missing prom wasn’t even what I was so mad about. It was the fact that I’d actually been asked by a boy. Tommy Barnes, the cutest boy in the brass section! It would’ve been my first date. But when I had to cancel last minute thanks to Lola’s meltdown, he told everyone in pep band I was a prude, which only helped my loser reputation flourish.
I glared at Wyatt, wondering what all the fuss was about. Sure, he was good-looking with his dark, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, thick lashes, and sultry accent, but did he really deserve all the hype?
His nickname was Nashanova and I was convinced all the girls in our year would sell a non-vital organ for a date with him, but I just didn’t see it.
Maybe it was because bad boys weren’t my type. Not that I had a type. Lola loved to tease me about the fact that I’d never had a boyfriend. To which I always responded, ‘how can I when there aren’t any boys left at this school that you haven’t already dated?’
But that’s why Lola and I worked. She was the Yin to my Yang. Where I was shy and mousy, Lola was loud and shiny. We evened each other out, especially musically.
I still remembered the first time I heard Lola sing one of my songs. It was at one of our ritual Friday night sleepovers. I think we were in fifth grade.
I’d gone downstairs to get more ice cream so of course Lola had gone snooping. She’d thought she’d discovered my diary, but in actuality it was my songbook—even more embarrassing than my diary. But when I’d walked back upstairs and heard my words on her beautiful voice, I’d felt nothing but joy.
And that was that.
From then on, we’d been Lola and Layne—song sisters.
That’s why this blow was so devastating. Lola and I had been dreaming of competing for the Diva Scholarship since we were little girls. And this was it—our one shot to compete. The competition was only open to seniors, and Mrs. Nash was right, I did need the scholarship money.
It was my dream to go to college for music. Without this scholarship, there was little to no chance of that happening.
Northwood wasn’t a rich kid school, but I still fell well below the financial curve of my classmates. If it wasn’t for Lola, I’d still be getting bullied over my secondhand clothes and bagged lunches.
That was one of the many things I loved about Lola. Her charisma was unmatched. She was friendly to everyone and she always stuck up for the underdog. When kids made fun of me in elementary school, she had my back. She even told off Candace Kennedy, the playground bully-turned high school mean girl!
No one picked on me after that. At least not when I was with Lola.
It’s pretty much what cemented our friendship. It’s also when Lola made the decision to take me under her wing. That’s when we started our Friday night sleepovers, where Lola let me borrow clothes from her colorful closet and taught me how to put on makeup and do my hair.
I was currently tugging on the ends of my straight brown locks, a nervous habit that seemed to amuse Wyatt. Or maybe he always had that maddeningly smug smirk on his face. I wouldn’t know. I usually tried not to look at him.
Why would I? He was a jerk. And it’s not like I wanted to catch the eye of a boy like him—or even could
“Actually,” Mrs. Nash said, drawing my attention back to her. “Wyatt, I think you may be able to help.”
Chapter Four
Wyatt
“Absolutely not!” I snapped. “I’m not singing with her.”
“I’m right here, you know?”
“Sorry, no offense,” I said, facing the puffy-eyed brunette.
I let my eyes roam over her, green band polo down to her too big jeans. She might have been cute behind those big glasses she wore but it was hard to tell.
I didn’t really know Layne, but I’d seen her around. She was friends with Lola, the cute blonde I’d flirted with briefly last spring. I couldn’t help thinking they made an odd couple. Lola was popular and Layne was . . . well, not. But I didn’t have time to dissect the dynamics of their friendship. I needed to stop my mother before she got rolling. Once she got an idea in her head it was almost impossible to stop. Nipping it in the bud was my only hope.
I turned back to face her. “I’m sorry, but I’m not joining some ridiculous singing competition just because you’re sponsoring it, Mum. Find someone else.”
“Can he even sing?” Layne asked.
“Of course,” my mother answered, as if I weren’t even there.
I butted in. “Excuse me, I said no. And singing in the shower doesn’t count, Mum.”
“Of course it does, darling. Music is in your blood.”
I huffed a bitter laugh and hobbled toward the door on my awkward walking boot. Escape was my only option now. If I stayed in this room a moment longer who knew what else my mother would commit me to. Although, if I left, I might be making it easier for her to speak for me. I hesitated, my hand resting on the doorknob when my mother spoke again.
“Layne,” she said. “Please wait outside a moment while I speak with my son.”
I stepped aside to let the mousy girl out the door.
When I turned to face my mother, I leveled her with an irritable glare. “I’m not doing it, Mum.”
“Wyatt, for once can you please just make my life easier? This is an opportunity for you to help someone.”
“You mean to help you. I know our family is contributing to this contest.”
“Good, then you know how important it is.”
“To you,” I argued.
“You know, you’re part of this family, too.”
I huffed a laugh. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Please don’t take your anger toward your father out on me.”
“He missed my last game! Ever!”
“Darling, had he known it was your last game, he would’ve been here. You know that.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“This move has required sacrifices from all of us. Your father wishes he was here more, but his offices are in New York and London and my parents are here.”
“Yes, but I don’t see why we all had to move here.”
“Do we really have to have this conversation again, Wyatt?”
“Yes! Because it wasn’t a conversation. It was Dad telling me what to do. I didn’t get a choice. I never do and I’m sick of it!”
My mother exhaled a tired breath and pushed her glasses up into her dark hair. “You’re right. None of this is fair. But life isn’t fair, darling. It’s not fair that my parents are sick. But they are and it’s my responsibility to take care of them. That’s what being an adult means, making hard choices. Maybe you should be grateful that life hasn’t required many from you thus far.”