Saint Anything(100)

“That was the plan,” Eric told her, pacing in the short space between my car and the one beside it. “But their feedback was that they especially liked that song. We can’t leave it out now.”

“I didn’t sign on for anything public, though. I can barely even deal with my own face in the mirror right now.”

I looked at Mac, who was leaning back on the bumper beside me. Although Layla had been freshly dumped when we first met at Seaside, this was my first time seeing this total loss of confidence. For such a bold girl, it was like she’d wilted. Only time, Mac said, would bring her back to us, although fries did help some.

Now Eric walked over, putting his hands on her shoulders. I expected Layla to at least flinch if not swat him away totally, but instead, she just looked to the side as he said, “You are going to be great. In fact, this might be just what you need.”

“To sing a song about a busted relationship in front of a huge crowd of people?” she said. She sighed. “I don’t think so.”

“To sing a song about strength and fierceness in the face of heartbreak in front of a huge crowd of people,” he corrected her. “Just trust me, okay?”

She didn’t look convinced. But she still didn’t push him away, either. And when he leaned forward, kissing the top of her head, she closed her eyes.

I looked at Mac, then leaned close to his ear. “What was that?”

“Temporary insanity,” he replied into mine. “I told you, she’s not herself.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Layla demanded.

“Nothing,” Mac told her.

“Me going to the showcase,” I said at the same time. Whoops. She gave me a look, not amused. “I’m going to ask my mom about it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, turning her face into the sun. “Somebody’s due some.”

When I left Kiger later that afternoon and headed home for dinner, I was ready, with my proposal memorized and precrafted responses to all expected objections. Even if she said no—and I so hoped she wouldn’t—she would have to be impressed with my prep work.

When I came in the house, my mom was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. “What are you making?” I asked, putting my bag on a chair.

“Pepper tempeh stir-fry,” she replied, adding something to the pan that sizzled. There was a cookbook open on her left. “I figured it was time to try some new recipes, shake things up.”

“Really,” I said. “Any particular reason?”

“No.” A handful of green things hit the pan; a beat later, I smelled onions. “Just in the mood to make some changes.”

This was either the best moment or the worst. Since I was feeling optimistic, I said, “Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something related to that.”

She poked at the pan, steam rising. “Related to . . .”

“Changes. Or discussions about them.”

A pause. More sizzling. Then, “I’m listening.”

Okay. I took in a breath. “So, I know I screwed up having my friends here that night. And Layla’s boyfriend drinking—”

“You were drinking, as I remember.”

One sip, I thought, then reminded myself to stay focused. “Right. What I did was wrong. But since then, I feel like I’ve done everything you and Dad have asked me to. The study group at lunch, Kiger anytime I’m not at school, then homework here afterward. I haven’t been anywhere else, nor have I asked to do so.”

She still had her back to me, so I couldn’t see how I was doing. I took it as promising, however, when she said, “I’m with you so far.”

Headlights were turning into our driveway, which meant either my dad or Ames would be walking in soon. One-on-one was better; I needed to keep going. “My friends’ band got a spot in a showcase. The winner gets a real demo from an actual label. The show’s early, at seven, next Friday. All ages. I really want to go.”

She lowered the heat on the burner and put the spoon down. Then she turned and looked at me. “These are the same friends who were here?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, Sydney.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I wish you would have asked about anything else.”

My heart sank. “But this is what I want.”

“To go to a club? With people that I know drink?”

“It was just Layla’s boyfriend. They’re not together anymore.”

“That’s not the point,” she replied. “What you’re asking is a big leap for your father and me. We’d prefer to return your privileges gradually, based on how things go.”

Which was just what Mac had said. “It’s just one night,” I said, not ready to cave yet. “Then we can go right back to how it is now.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’ve been doing very well lately.” She turned back to the stove. “To be honest, I’m hesitant to change anything.”

“You just said you were in the mood for it, though.”

She laughed. “I was talking about dinner.”

The garage door was creaking open now. I had a minute, maybe two, before I was facing a united front. “Please just think about it. That’s all I’m asking. Not a no, not yet. Please?”