I cringed. How was I supposed to do this? I took a deep breath. “I-I guess, it’s just that . . .”
Lola sighed dramatically. “Hold on, Layne. My mom’s yelling at me.”
I heard a muffled argument on Lola’s end of the line. When she came back her voice lacked its usual pep. “Sorry, I have to go. I’ve apparently used up my ten minutes of voice time.”
“What?”
“You know my mom. She follows the letter of the law, which now includes doctors’ orders. I need to rest my voice.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I want you to get better soon, so do what she says.”
Lola huffed. “I never thought I’d say this, but I cannot wait to get back to school. Living vicariously through you isn’t working.”
“Hey!”
“No offense, the whole being top songwriting diva is amazing, but I need more details! I’m dying for juicy gossip over here!”
I heard Lola’s mom call her name again.
“Okay, Mom! Geez. Text me,” Lola said. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
And just like that I was saved by the kissing virus—how ironic!
Chapter Fifty-Two
Wyatt
“I know you’re disappointed,” my mother said as we drove home from my doctor appointment. “We can get a second opinion, but you knew this was a possibility.”
“I’m more than disappointed, Mum,” I grumbled.
That was putting it mildly. I could think of quite a few choice words to describe my current feelings and none of them were as tame as ‘disappointed’.
“Honestly, darling. What did you expect? You’ve been off gallivanting all over with that girl.”
“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who told me to work with that girl?”
My mother sighed, choosing her next words carefully. “You know I don’t mean anything by it. I’m glad things are going well for you two. I don’t want this diagnosis to get in the way of what you’re doing but—”
I cut my mother off with a glare. “I’m not backing out on Layne because of my stupid ankle!”
“Darling, I’m not saying that. I’m sure there’s a way for you to do both. But I need you to put your health first or you’re going to end up needing surgery.”
I stared out the passenger side window, wishing I could’ve just put this stupid appointment off until after the competition. It was putting a serious damper on my mood.
Just yesterday I’d been envisioning getting my boot off in time for prom and dancing under the fake stars with Layne in my arms.
No chance of that happening now. With my luck, I’d be spending prom in a hospital bed.
Stupid ankle!
Why couldn’t I just have a normal sprain? No, I had to be extra and tear two ligaments. A problem that I’d apparently exacerbated by gallivanting around, as my mother called it. I called it going about my normal life.
I mean, I was still expected to go to school. And she’s the one who told me to join the singing competition. True, I could’ve done all that without my usual flare, but what fun was that? And everything I’d done had paid off. Layne actually had a chance of winning this thing.
Without dragging her to a karaoke bar or to visit my grandparents, she’d still be afraid of her own shadow. But now, now she was on her way to stardom.
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips when I thought about how far she’d come. My little diva.
Speaking of Layne . . . I pulled out my phone to text her. I wanted to see how everything had gone at school today, and this was the first chance I’d gotten since I’d spent my day getting poked and prodded and scanned.
I opened my screen and felt my heart swell as I saw an unopened message from Layne waiting for me.
Layne: Hi. It’s me. Just wishing you luck today. Text me when you’re done and tell me how it went.
My grin widened as I began typing a response, until my mother’s voice disrupted me.
“You really like this girl, don’t you?” she asked.
I cut my eyes at her. Nope, we definitely weren’t going there!
I loved my mother, but we didn’t have the kind of relationship where I could talk to her about who I may or may not have feelings for. I looked back at my phone. Maybe I should wait until I had some privacy to text Layne back. Or better yet, I could just drive over to see her once I got home.
I slipped my phone back in my pocket and turned my gaze out the window. “What time do you think we’ll be home?”
I could see my mother’s eyebrows raise from the corner of my vision. “Why? Do you have plans?”
I shrugged. “I was thinking about going over to Layne’s.”
My mother huffed a laugh. “Did you not hear anything the doctor said to you?”
“What? He said to take it easy. I’m not running a marathon.”
She shook her head and pursed her lips trying to contain her temper. “Laying low, means just that, Wyatt. You’re not going out tonight. And if you push your luck you won’t be going out for the rest of the school year.”
I rolled my eyes and let my head fall back against the seat. This was why I didn’t tell her things. My life worked better when my parents didn’t pretend they knew how to parent.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Layne
By the time the dismissal bell rang, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to talk to Wyatt. He was the only one who would truly understand what today had meant to me. I was blown away by the awesome reception from my classmates. They actually liked my music and wanted to talk to me about it.
And the only thing that could make today even better was sharing it with Wyatt.
I knew I still needed to talk to Lola about my feelings for Wyatt and spilling her secret, but even that wasn’t dampening my excitement. I’d decided to just concentrate on the competition for now. It was only four days away. After that, I’d tell Lola everything and figure out where to go from there.
I checked my phone one more time as I walked out to the parking lot. No messages from Wyatt. I’d even texted him a second time to see how his appointment went, but I hadn’t heard back.
I shielded my eyes as I stepped into the blinding afternoon sun. For a moment I half expected Wyatt to be leaning against Scarlet’s glossy paint job, his long legs crossed at the ankles, waiting for me like some swoon-worthy John Hughes character. But nope. The parking lot was one hero short today.
I started my long walk home, wondering if maybe I should send another text. I didn’t want to seem desperate, but it was strange that I hadn’t heard from Wyatt all day. Lola was right, he probably would’ve checked the voting site by now. And if he saw how well our song was doing, wouldn’t he have called? Or at least texted?
A little bubble of panic lodged itself in my chest. Was something wrong? I knew he had a doctor appointment, but how long did a follow-up for a sprained ankle take?
It was silly to worry. I knew Wyatt, probably better than most. If there was something wrong, he would’ve told me.
I checked my watch. He was probably home by now. Maybe I should just swing by his place to check on him. I could bring him a donut from Sweet Pea’s and we could celebrate all our good news together—my music and his ankle.