The Accidentals(44)

“I didn’t take the bet!”

“You should have.”

They keep laughing, and Aurora gives me a secretive little smile.

“Wow,” Daria says slowly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Your dad is so amazing.”

The tenor of the conversation changes immediately. Both Jessicas lean forward in their chairs. “You must get to meet some pretty cool people,” the pitch guesses.

“You could go backstage anywhere,” Daria adds.

I shrug, feeling sweaty. This line of questioning has its own perils. “His band members are fun. I try not to act like a crazy fan girl, but it’s hard.” That is certainly true enough.

“Maybe he would arrange a song for us,” Daria says.

Oh, crap. “I didn’t tell him yet that I was auditioning,” I say quickly. I don’t add that he’s never heard me sing. Not even in the shower.

Jessica looks at her watch. “We have a few more of these meetings tonight. Do you have any questions, Rachel?”

“Just one,” I admit. “How many open spots are there? I don’t know whether or not to get my hopes up.”

“Oh, there’s four,” Jessica says with a wink. “And two are for altos this year.”

“You are definitely getting in,” Aurora says after they go away.

With my fork, I toy with my salad. “I dropped Frederick’s name. I am a name-dropper.”

“I dropped it,” Aurora corrects, sipping her coffee. “But do you think there are better altos than you?”

“Heck no.”

She grins. “And do you think he’d mind?”

“Probably not.”

But I mind. And somewhere out in the ether, Mom sighs with disapproval.

“Why do you call him Frederick?” Aurora asks suddenly. And here I’d thought I was done being interviewed.

“It’s his name.” It’s also what my mother called him on those few occasions she’d mentioned him.

“You two weren’t close before your mother died?” Aurora asks softly.

“You could say that.” I load dishes back onto my tray. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.”





Chapter Fifteen





The Belle Choir doesn’t contact me again, but apparently that’s normal. Instead of emailing, the competitive musical groups hold something called Tap Night, where they actually run around campus and visit the people they’re tapping.

Nobody knows when Tap Night will actually happen, though.

The whole thing makes me nervous. So I dive into my homework with the fervor of a new girl. And I don’t worry about making more friends, because I’ve already found the two best ones.

Jake and Aurora prove to be the sort who are always up for anything. Fake climbing-wall setup on the lawn? They’re the first to strap on the crotch-grabbing harnesses and race to the top, Jake ringing the bell before Aurora can catch him. Bong passed around the entryway when the resident advisor is away for the weekend? Aurora and Jake are good for a hit.

I defer, mumbling, “I know, I have a good-girl complex.”

Aurora shakes her head, blowing smoke out of her nose. “Never apologize for being a good girl,” she says. “It looks good on you.”

I hope the Belle Choir thinks so.

Instead of waiting around in my room, hoping they’ll show up, I decide to keep working at the library. Some guy in a soccer jacket has the audacity to sit in my favorite third-floor study carrel, so I have to walk up and down the rows of books until I find an empty one.

When I sit down, my gaze snags on a shelf of books that I wouldn’t expect the library to have. It’s several years’ worth of Claiborne, New Hampshire phone books.

I get right up again and examine them. There’s a copy from 1995, and that’s the one I pull off the shelf. I flip quickly to the “K” section and scan for my last name.

And there it is. Alana Kress, 154 Armory Street, in the town of Wilder. Alana was my grandmother. She died when I was three, after Mom and I had already moved to Florida.

I jot down the address and look it up on an online map. The house is three miles away. It might take me an hour to walk there.

Someday I will. If my mom lived there, I want to see it.





When Frederick returns from L.A., I meet him for coffee on Main Street. Word has gotten out that he’s been lurking in Claiborne, apparently. We get some curious looks, which Frederick is very good at ignoring.

Maybe he doesn’t even notice people staring anymore.

“What are you doing this week?” I ask him.

“Looking at houses. Avoiding Henry’s calls.”

“How’s that going?”

“Mute is a very useful feature.”

“I meant the other thing.” I stir the coffee in my cup and try to look disinterested.

“It’s a small town, and there’s not much available. But the realtor says something will shake loose eventually.”

I wonder what will happen if nothing does.

“What’s new with you?” he asks.

“Homework, and plenty of it.” I never told him about my Belle Choir audition, and since I haven’t heard from them, it seems like I never will.