I laughed.
“Is there something humorous about that?”
“Yeah, Mum. A lot, actually. I know what it means to sacrifice and make hard choices. I’m stuck in the middle-of-nowhere at a school I didn’t want to go to. You forced me to give up my old life and my friends and now I’ve just been forced to give up baseball—the only thing I had left.”
“Then perhaps you can look at this as an opportunity to find something new to enjoy.”
“Like singing?” I asked sarcastically.
She shrugged. “You never know. You have the talent. You might like it if you stopped fighting it.”
I shook my head. “This is my life, Mum. I’m not a child anymore. You can’t make me do this.”
“You’re right, Wyatt. It is your life and you’re almost eighteen. I can respect your desire to make your own choices. If you want to be treated as an adult, I’ll speak to you like one. As Northwood’s resource director, it’s my job to assist the students at this school. Today I’ve been presented with two students who need support. An athlete and a musician. The athlete is facing an injury which is keeping him from a sport he loves, the musician is facing an obstacle that could potentially keep her from earning a scholarship that will greatly affect her ability to attend college and pursue something she loves. My solution is to pair them together. The athlete would get a much-needed distraction and time to heal, while the musician would get a partner and a chance to secure her future.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, hating my mother’s logic. “Even if I wanted to help, I’m not registered for the competition. Wasn’t the deadline months ago?”
My mother’s eyes lit up. “You don’t need to be registered. Layne applied to compete in the songwriting category. She just needs someone to perform her songs to be eligible.”
“Why can’t she perform them?”
“She could, but she’s made it clear that she’s not a singer.”
“Neither am I.”
My mother gave me a trying look, making me regret how freely I sang in the shower. I did love music and I knew I could sing—like she said, it was in my blood, whether I liked it or not. But I liked bands like Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones. I couldn’t sing whatever girlie-pop Layne was probably into.
Plus, I had a reputation to uphold. And that meant I didn’t go around hanging out with band geeks or joining singing competitions. Without baseball, fitting in at Northwood was going to be even harder.
Layne might be a perfectly nice girl, but she wasn’t my type. Nerdy didn’t do it for me. I already had a problem with authority. The last thing I needed was some chick bossing me around. I may not know her, but one look at her dark framed glasses and buttoned up collar, and I could just tell she was critical and judgy. My vibe was more causal and fun. We’d never work.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mum. I wish I could help, but you’ll have to find someone else.”
Disappointment filled my mother’s green eyes. “Is that your final answer?”
I nodded.
“Very well. Thank you for hearing me out.”
Thankfully, the bell rang giving me the excuse I needed to leave. I was almost to the door when my mother called my name.
I turned to face her. “Yes?”
She held out her hand. “Keys, please.”
“What?”
“Your car keys.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “Because I won’t let you guilt me into a stupid singing competition?”
“No, because you skipped class.”
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“I’m sure one of your baseball friends can give you a ride.”
“They have an away game tonight!”
She shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to take the bus.”
“The school bus?” I yelled, outraged. “You’re not serious?”
“Or you can wait for me, but I have a few meetings after school today.”
My nostrils flared. “You’ve made your point, Mum. I won’t skip class again.”
“I know you won’t,” she said, her hand still extended. “But I’m still going to need your keys.”
I stood there a moment longer, calling her bluff. But she merely smiled.
Shaking my head, I fished my car keys from my pocket and dropped them on her desk before limping out of her office, my gaze fixed straight ahead to avoid looking at the girl whose future I’d just dashed. If I didn’t get one, why should she?
If my mother thought she was teaching me some kind of lesson she was sorely mistaken. Any hope I had at reconsidering helping with the competition dissolved when she demanded my car keys. I was done taking orders. I was done, period.
The moment I sprained my ankle and lost baseball, I lost my reason to care about attending this podunk school in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. My mother could take my car, my allowance, everything. I had nothing left that mattered to me anymore.
Chapter Five
Layne
My shoulders slumped when I left Mrs. Nash’s office. She’d told me what I already knew. Wyatt wasn’t going to help, and unless I could find someone to sing my songs, my chances of competing for the songwriter scholarship were over. She’d given me until the end of the week to find a replacement for Lola but considering she couldn’t convince her own son to help, I knew I didn’t stand a chance of finding anyone else.
It’s not like I had a slew of friends to count on. Lola was pretty much it. Another of our Yin and Yang qualities was that she was popular, and I was not. No matter how hard she tried to help me fit in, it seemed popularity wasn’t something that could rub off. You either were or you weren’t.
Even though he’d only been at Northwood since junior year, Wyatt was one of the popular crowd. So, I hadn’t been surprised that he refused to help. He wasn’t exactly known for being selfless. He was known for being self-absorbed and leaving a trail of heartbreak in his wake.
Truthfully, I was relieved. I didn’t want to work with someone like him. He was everything I despised about high school—a smug, egotistical, conceited jock. He wouldn’t take this competition seriously. Wyatt Nash didn’t know the meaning of the word. How could he when it seemed the whole world was handed to him on a silver platter?
With his expensive clothes, vintage car, and British accent, Wyatt made sure everyone at Northwood knew he thought he was above them. His attitude was atrocious, yet he made no apologies. And I’m sure he wasn’t inclined to, considering the girls in our class seemed to think his arrogance was an aphrodisiac.
Wyatt Nash was the last guy on earth I wanted help from.
Finally, the dismissal bell rang ending my awful day. I collected my things from my locker and headed out to the bus line since my best friend was no longer available to give me rides home from school. I could walk home, but even in March, winter still clung to the chilly Pennsylvania air.
At least it was Friday. Today felt like a bad dream. All I wanted was a pint of cookie dough ice cream and my best friend.
The sharp sting of realization suddenly dawned on me. It was Friday, but there would be no Friday night sleepover. No ice cream with my bestie. No light at the end of this dismal tunnel.