I exhaled, letting the warmth of Layne’s touch calm me. “Maybe not, but I still feel bad. I don’t like the idea of someone out there hating me. Especially your best friend.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Wyatt.”
I gritted my teeth as things began to click in place. “No, but I bet she told you not to trust me.”
Layne bit her lip and my heart sank. It was all the answer I needed. “Well, I guess she wasn’t wrong,” I said bitterly. “I do have my lovely reputation.”
Layne moved closer, her hands moving up my arms to rest on my chest. It forced me to look into her big brown eyes. “Wyatt, I can make my own decisions. And I know you’re not a bad guy.”
“I don’t want to be. Not since I met you, at least.”
She blinked up at me looking unsure what to say. As I looked into her warm eyes, I didn’t even care that the truth slipped out. Because she did make me want to be a better man. And somehow, I was going to prove to her that I was.
I would just have to find a way to show Layne that I was worth a second chance.
I could make this right. I had to.
Because when this competition was over, I didn’t want any misunderstandings between us. I was going to make my intentions clear to Layne and there couldn’t be any doubt left in her mind that I was speaking the truth.
I pulled Layne into a quick embrace, allowing myself one moment of weakness as I inhaled her scent. It renewed me with the strength I needed.
A plan already formulating, I pulled away from her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you after my doctor appointment tomorrow.”
Layne looked shocked by my sudden departure, but I kissed her quickly on the cheek and headed out the door.
Chapter Fifty-One
Layne
Wyatt wasn’t at school the next day. I knew he wouldn’t be, but I still found myself looking for him everywhere. I really wished he’d scheduled his doctor appointment for any other day.
I looked around the halls, as the eyes of my classmates followed me everywhere. I picked up my pace and kept my head down, trying to pretend I didn’t know they were all whispering about me.
Of all the days for Wyatt to miss school . . . I needed him today.
As promised, he’d tipped off the Tattler about my identity and now everyone was looking at me wondering if it could really be true. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Labels were hard to shake in high school and I’d been labeled as the quiet band geek on day one. Asking people to believe that I had the voice of a diva buried somewhere deep inside of me was a stretch. But still, I was glad Wyatt made me do it.
So far, I was grateful for everything he’d made me do. He was really taking this whole project seriously. And he was actually really good at it. From forcing me out of my comfort zone, to knowing exactly how to present my music to the world. He saw the best in me and that made me not want to let him down.
Which was why I’d been too scared to look at the Tattler app again even though I could see I had like a billion notifications. I was afraid to see that everyone had changed their tune now that they knew the voice they’d been praising was mine.
That would only kill my confidence and I couldn’t afford to take a hit like that. It would make me too self-conscious to take the stage.
No, it was much better to hold onto my feelings from yesterday. I could pretend that everyone was still rooting for me for a few more days. The competition was Saturday. I’d been avoiding the Tattler for years. I could go four more days.
I pulled my phone out in class, staring back down at the app. Maybe I should just delete it so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at all the new comments. My finger hovered over the app. Before I could make a decision, the bell rang, startling me so badly, I dropped my phone.
I rushed from my desk to pick it up before it was trampled by the stampede of students rushing from the classroom, but someone beat me to it. I sucked in a breath when I saw Candace Kennedy pick up my phone.
Oh no, oh no, oh no!
I forced myself to breathe, as Candace turned toward me, my phone still in her hand. “I think you dropped something,” she said.
“R-right, sorry,” I stammered, holding my hand out. “Um, thanks for grabbing it.”
To my surprise, Candace smiled, and not her fake mean girl smile. “You know, I totally knew it was you.”
I blinked at her like I’d forgotten how to speak.
“Singing,” she continued. “You’ve always had such a great voice.”
What?
The hamster wheel in my brain was spinning out of control as I tried to find the insult in her compliment. But there was none.
Was Candace Kennedy actually being nice to me?
“Um, thanks,” I managed when I realized she was waiting for a response.
She handed me my phone and started to walk away, but then she turned back.
Here it comes.
I knew she couldn’t be nice with no reason. I held my breath waiting for whatever insult she was about to spear me with. But instead she said, “You should sit with us at lunch.”
“What?”
“Totally. We can talk wardrobe for the competition. Plus,” she lowered her voice. “I know some of the girls you’re up against from the pageant circuit. I can fill you in on all their weaknesses.”
“Oh, um . . . thanks?” What did one say to that?
Candace smiled, conspiratorially. “See ya at lunch.”
“See ya.”
The rest of the day continued in the same strange haze of unexpected praise and conversations. People who’d never spoken to me before were now talking to me as if we’d been lifelong friends.
It was startling.
After being mostly invisible while walking the halls of Northwood High, it was hard to get used to so much attention. And when two freshman girls stopped me to ask for an autograph, I truly felt like I’d fallen into an alternate reality.
I wanted to say no, because who was I to be signing autographs, but they were so sweet.
“Your song like totally changed my perspective,” the one said.
“Me too,” the other added. “I feel so much less alone now.”
“Wow . . .” I struggled for words. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
“Yeah. Thanks, so much for sharing that song,” the little brunette added.
“You’re totally our hero,” her friend said.
The brunette blushed. “We want to write music, too.”
I grinned. “You should. It’s really been a great outlet for me.”
“How do we get started?” the brunette asked.
“Well, I actually learned a lot from the pep band.”
“Really?” they said in unison.
“Yeah. Mrs. Baker is an amazing musician. And she has tons of resources to help get you started. She helped connect me with people who give piano and guitar lessons.”
The girls beamed at each other. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I told you she’d be cool,” I heard one of them whisper as they hurried away.
I couldn’t help smiling. This was what it was all about—making a difference with my music. My chest felt so full of joy I could’ve floated down the hall.