Look Both Ways(40)

“Yeah, definitely,” I say, and it comes out sounding flat.

“Hey.” She tilts my face toward her. “What’s the matter?”

I can’t tell her what I’m thinking, so I say, “Nothing. I just hoped I’d get a chance to perform, that’s all.” If I were a real Shepard, that’s what would be bothering me.

My mom rubs my back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t expect to run out of time. But you’ve done this exercise before, and this is the only chance I’ll ever get to work with your classmates. You can perform for me later, if you want.”



“No, that’s okay.”

“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. I hope you’re not too upset.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Have a good time with the non-eqs.”

On the way out the door, I toss my handout labeled “VALIDATE” into the trash.





I leave the classroom before my friends are done gathering their things, slip into the bathroom, and crouch down in the corner of the handicapped stall where nobody can see me. I’m going to have to face everyone sooner or later, but right now I’m feeling too fragile. I send the universe an image of my friends telling me it doesn’t matter who my mom is or that I lied, that they like me for me. But I know deep down that’s probably not going to happen. Not everyone is as understanding as Zoe.

As if I’ve summoned her, the bathroom door opens, and I hear Zoe’s voice. “Brooklyn? You in here?”

I’m about to answer, but then I hear Jessa. “Why do you care? I don’t get why you even hang out with her.”

“She’s funny and smart and supersweet,” Zoe says. “And right now she’s really upset, so be nice to her, okay?”



“She’s upset? We’re the ones who should be upset. Did you know Lana Blake Shepard was her mom?”

“I found out last night,” Zoe says. “Why does it really matter, though?”

“Are you serious right now? It matters because she obviously bribed her way into this festival! I have tons of supertalented friends who didn’t get in here, and that spoiled brat is taking up space because Marcus is friends with her mommy.”

“Jess, you don’t know that,” Livvy says.

“Why else would she possibly be here? We’ve seen zero proof that she can actually sing or act or dance. She couldn’t even get a part as a freaking spear-carrier.”

“It’s not her fault she didn’t get cast,” Zoe says. “Plus, she’s an amazing pianist. You should seriously hear her play.”

The sink goes on, and Livvy says, “What is up with my hair today?”

Jessa ignores her. “If she’s so good at music, she belongs at Interlochen! Allerdale is for actors, and she is not an actor. Her own mom didn’t even want to watch her perform. Didn’t you see how she called on everyone but her?”

“Brady and Adam didn’t go, either,” Livvy says.

“Jess, I really think we just ran out of time,” Zoe says.

“Why are you sticking up for her? Don’t you know she’s using you?”

“How is she using me? She’s my friend.”

“She wants people to see her with the Juilliard girl, obviously. She follows you around like a lost puppy.”



Livvy giggles. “God, Jessa, you’re kind of being a huge bitch right now.”

“It’s not bitchy if it’s true.”

“I want her to hang out with me,” Zoe says. “What do you not understand about ‘we’re friends’?”

I can almost hear Jessa rolling her eyes. “Girl, you do what you want. But I wouldn’t want some amateur hanging on to my coattails. Hey, Liv and I are going to Target later. You want to come?”

“I can’t,” Zoe says. “Brooklyn and Lana and I are having dinner.”

“Ohhhhh.” Jessa says the word like it has about five syllables. “Okay. I get it now.”

“Jessa, it’s not like that.”

“Whatever. I say good on you. If she’s gonna use you, use her right back.” And then the door swings open and bangs shut, and everything is quiet.

So I guess that’s it; my days of being part of the group are over. No more raucous dining hall meals, arguing over which is the worst musical ever written. No more crowding around someone’s laptop and watching dumb YouTube videos. No more late nights on the lawn. When those things were actually happening, I was always waiting for them to be over so I could be alone with Zoe. But now that they’re not an option anymore, I realize how much I’ll miss being invited.

Or maybe I was never really invited at all. Maybe I was just following Zoe around like a lost puppy.

At least she stood up for me. She didn’t know I was here, so she didn’t have to say the things she said. She really does like me, and it’s not because I can bring her closer to my mom. And it’s a good thing, too. If I don’t have any shows or any friends, Zoe’s pretty much the only thing I have left going for me at Allerdale. I better cling to her with everything I’ve got.





I spend the rest of the afternoon holed up in a practice room, playing overly dramatic sad songs. When I come back to the room to change for dinner, Zoe’s waiting for me. She looks gorgeous in a strappy red dress and sparkly shoes. “Where were you?” she asks. “I texted you a million times.”