The Accidentals(92)

My father looks perplexed.

“What are you talking about?” I have to ask.

“Baseball. I’m pretty sure,” Frederick answers.

“Sorry to interrupt, but can Aurora bring her boyfriend? She just called.”

My father’s face is curious. “A boyfriend?”

“He can room with Jake, right? Carry on.” I scoot to the front of the bus to wait for Aurora.

But when she finally climbs onto the bus, I am indeed surprised. Because the person holding her hand is Jessica.

“Sorry we’re late,” Aurora says. Her smile is nervous.

I try mightily to control my reaction. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Dios mio, Rachel! Your face.” Aurora flushes.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Jessica says, sliding into the seat behind Carlos.

He closes the door, and the bus pulls away from the curb. A cheer rises up from the back, and I hear the sound of a popping cork.

“I said you’d be surprised.” Aurora looks pained.

“Just give me a few seconds to get used to the idea.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. All set.”

My roommate still looks worried. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.”

Unaccountably, I feel myself tearing up. “Seems like something I should have figured out by myself.” What kind of a self-centered jerk misses that?

“No, sweetie. I worked to keep it from you. But it was exhausting, and it made Jessica mad.” Her lips quiver. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want a roommate who liked girls.”

I just shake my head. “I don’t care, Aurora. It’s only a problem if you won’t be my roommate anymore.”

“No! If I come to Claiborne College in a year, we’ll share again. I can’t wait.” Aurora reaches out, hugging me tightly.

When I walk to the back of the bus a minute later, my father hands me a thimble-sized cup of champagne. Jake is already holding one. “Note the portion size,” he says.

“Dad!”

Frederick chuckles. “Why don’t you take a couple of these to Aurora and her boyfriend.”

I look from Frederick to Jake. “Did either of you see that coming?”

They exchange a knowing glance.

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Jake says loyally.

“Does anyone have anything else they want to tell me?” I ask, downing my little swallow of champagne.

“Here.” Frederick hands me two more cups. “And they’re not for you.”

“Will I ever live that night down?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You’ve only done one stupid thing to my ten, okay? I have to hang on tight to this one.”

I carry the two little cups to my friends. “Cheers!” I say, passing them to Aurora and Jessica. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

“Thank you,” Jessica says. At least I don’t have to wonder anymore about Jessica’s frosty attitude toward me. Hopefully that will change now.

“I’ll get Jake. We’ll sit with you guys,” I offer.

On my way back to the rear of the bus, Norah grabs my hand. When I stop, she tosses her chin over her shoulder toward Jake, and then she gives me a thumbs up. “He’s adorable.”

I smile at her. “I think so too.”

Taking Jake’s hand, I ask him to come and sit up front with me.

“Sure,” he says.

“Hey, Rachel?” my father asks.

“Yeah?”

“You know that melody I made you try out last week?”

“Yeah.” I let go of Jake’s hand so I can hold on to the hand rail as the bus swings around a curve. “Why?”

My father’s hands pass idly over the strings of his acoustic guitar. I’m used to that sound now. I hear it all the time. “I want to record it as a duet. Just fooling around, you know? If I find a sound booth somewhere at the college, will you sing it with me?”

“Sure? Can we talk about this later?”

He laughs. “Fine. Go.”

So I do.





Chapter Thirty-Two





The sound check for Frederick’s concert takes forever. But we don’t care. My friends and I pass the time on a slouchy old couch we’ve found backstage.

“It’s just like home,” Aurora points out. I’m getting used to the sight of my roommate and Jessica together. Even better, Aurora isn’t moping anymore.

I perch on the arm of the sofa while the three others take the seats. “Maybe our S.L.O. isn’t big enough anymore.”

Jake reaches up for my hips, sliding me into his lap. “Sure it is. See?”

“Spoken like a man who doesn’t want to help us carry another one up the stairs.”

Henry skids to a stop in front of our sofa, an envelope in his hands. “Seats or wings?” he asks. “I’ve got third row, left side.”

“Seats, please,” I answer. This night is going to be different than my last concert, in every possible way.

Henry counts out four tickets and hands them to me. “Oh, and here.” He passes me two hotel-key folders.

I stare at them in my hand.