Chapter Six
Lainey
Thomas walks away, and I have to pinch myself to make sure it was real. I’m not going to lie and say my heart didn’t crack when he said, “ she’s out front,” but it’s hard to be upset after sharing one of the most real conversations I’ve had with another human. And for him to open up to me too…
He’s definitely not helping me shake this crush I have. In fact, we’re moving into dangerous territory. Me, not Thomas. To Thomas I’m still very much his friend’s little sister, and that hurts.
When he moves out of sight, I walk back to the couch and lie down, staring up at the stars, the events of the night replaying in my mind.
I’d come home from school in a great mood. I was going to have the house to myself. I didn’t have any assignments due. I had grand plans of junk food and Hallmark movies.
Until I found the letter.
Mom had written a note for me to wait until she got home to open it, but I couldn’t. I had to know.
We regret to inform you…
I didn’t get in. All my dreams shattered in a matter of seconds. I should have auditioned years ago. Or even last year. Now I’m stuck with a future I don’t want to be a part of and a family that’ll be over the moon about it.
Having Thomas here tonight saved my soul. He didn’t change the outcome, or even help with a solution, but he listened…which is a lot more than anyone else has ever done. My parents are supportive, sure, but they’re only supportive if I’m following the path they thought out for me. As long as I’m dedicated, focused, and working toward our goals, they’re happy. But if I deviate… they won’t hear it. It’s the same when it comes to football and my brothers, although my parents are a little more lenient with regards to them because they don’t have the pressure from my gran the way they do with me. It’s a double-edged sword. Gran’s support from day one has always been an inspiration for me, but now that my dream is closer to a reality, it’s becoming a burden.
This works in everyone’s favor. Except mine. I know my parents will be disappointed for me because they’re not heartless, but me not getting into San Francisco Ballet School works for Gran and by extension works for them too.
And it’s all my fault.
I have a gift, I know that. I’ve always been top of my ballet class…but I messed up that audition. The pressure got to me, and now, I’m paying for it. There’s no one to blame but myself.
The only thing keeping me from falling apart is Thomas—and he doesn’t even know it.
Aweek passes, and while the pain of losing the future I always wanted is still raw, I’ve come to terms with it. Or, at least, I’m getting closer. And today I have something else to focus on.
“Happy Birthday, Little Duck,” Luke says as he hands me an unwrapped box.
“Little Duck?” I ask, my brow raised in annoyance. His nicknames are getting worse, but I can’t remember a time when he’s repeated one, so it makes sense that he’d be running out of ideas.
“I said what I said.” He shrugs before walking away, not even waiting for me to open my present. And when I peer inside, I know why.
“Luuuke!” I yell, dropping the box to the floor. “That’s not funny.”
Okay, it’s a little funny, but I’m not going to give him that satisfaction. In place of my birthday present, which I thought was going to be a new woven sun hat, he’s given me a Heartwood U football cap with his name written in thick black marker across the back.
He laughs on his way up the stairs as my mom walks out of the kitchen. “Love you, Small Bear.”
“Yeah. You’re lucky I love you too.”
“We’re leaving for lunch in twenty minutes,” Mom reminds us both, like we could possibly forget when she’s mentioned it at least ten times. Heaven forbid I get to set my own schedule for my sweet sixteen.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you this,” she adds, stepping closer when Luke’s out of sight, “but your gran’s flying in to join us today. I grabbed your blue dress down from the attic; it’s on your bed.”
“My blue dress? The one I wore” —and hated—“at the awards?”
“That’s the one. We’re going somewhere fancy.” Ugh. I’d prefer we ate at the local diner.
I open my mouth to argue, but the sweet smile on my mother’s face stops me. She’s trying to do something nice for my birthday. It’s not her fault I never told her I hated it. “Okay, Mom. Thank you.”
I pass Luke on the steps as he’s coming back down, and I groan to myself. He’s wearing faded jeans with a hole in the knee and a San Francisco Storm football hoodie. Nothing even close to the dress code I’ve been assigned.
“You’re coming to lunch, yeah?” I ask with a frown.
Luke smiles, completely oblivious as to why I’m asking. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Pixie.”
He keeps moving, so I wait until he’s on the bottom step before responding. “Good, because Gran’s coming,” I say, having the last laugh.
“What?” He spins around so fast he almost falls. “Goddammit.”
“What happened?” Mom asks, once again coming into the hall, undoubtedly rushing around to make sure the house is perfect for Gran.
“Nothing, I just tripped,” Luke lies, giving me the evil eye.
We all love Gran, but she can be overbearing and opinionated, and she doesn’t understand football. Or the hype. She’s constantly telling Luke he needs to focus on another career…like accounting or property development. Both things he would completely suck at.
I give him a little wave before heading into my bedroom, my smile dropping the second I spot the dress. It really is beautiful. The color complements my complexion, and it works with my hair and my eyes. It’s perfect. As though it was made for me. Because it was. Gran flew some big-name New York designer over here to create it. She said I needed something special for the awards. And I loved it at the time. Until I realized how stupid I’d been. It was because of this dress I discovered how wealthy my gran was, and it was because of this dress that I decided to ask her—no, beg her—to pay for my tuition at San Francisco Ballet School, only to be told she’d gladly help me out financially…when I went to New York. Not if, when.
My gran’s support came with terms and conditions. All my life she’d been grooming me to be a ballerina, but it wasn’t until then that I realized her support was limited.
An hour later, I’m looking the part of the dutiful granddaughter as I elegantly eat my meal, trying not to get involved as my gran grills my big brother about his future, questioning if that “football nonsense” is still his plan. A verbal tennis match ensues between them, and when they’re done, Gran smiles before her attention moves to me.
“I’m sorry to hear about San Francisco,” she says with a frown as Luke offers me a sympathetic smile. He did all he could to keep the focus on him, but as always, it shifted. “I know you had your heart set on attending; it must have hurt a little.”
“Thanks, Gran.” I try not to stare at her in shock, wondering if I heard her correctly. “It’s a great school and—”
“And now you’ll get to go to an even better one. There’s nothing standing in your way anymore.”
Oh. I should have known her kind words were too good to be true.
I understand where she’s coming from…to a degree. She wants me to be her legacy. She wants people to remember the Swinton name for years to come. But she seems to ignore the fact that she hasn’t danced for decades and people still remember her. She doesn’t need me. I’m likely to bring the name down more than anything.
Not that I tell her that.
“You’re right,” I say, knowing better than to argue even if it pains me. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t need to know that I’m still holding out hope. There’s always a chance I could be invited to audition again after I graduate, but it’s unlikely, and Gran knows it.
“It’s time to focus all your energy on working toward your Jaiton audition in a year or so. Maybe it’s worth considering schools in New York. You could complete your junior and senior years there.”
I nod and smile, as Gran’s eyes flash to my mom’s, making sure she’s on board with that idea, but of course she is. They’ve always been plagued by financial issues, so if Gran’s funding my future, it takes the pressure off them. I just have to hope I can convince them to give me one more chance at staying—that sending me away isn’t what I want, and no matter how much relief it brings them, it’s not necessarily the right thing to do.
With all eyes on me, I try hard to project a happiness I’m not feeling, and of all the people I wish would notice, it’s only Luke that cuts in, throwing himself under the bus once more. “Gran, you should come to one of my games,” he says, his eyes briefly flashing my way. “Let me show you what it’s all about.”
Gran laughs before making excuse after excuse until my issues are long forgotten, and she’s moved on to chat with my mom.
I offer Luke a grateful smile, and he winks in return but there’s a sadness to it. He’s always stuck up for me when it comes to Gran, but it’s usually a game to him. This feels different. Maybe he’s struggling with thoughts of his future just as much as I am.
By the time we get home, after a long lunch, I’m wrecked. All I can think about is turning on some music and going to bed, but before I’ve grabbed my headphones there’s a tap on my window, making me pause.
With a laugh, I wander over. I’m certain it’s Luke up to no good, but when I peer through the curtain, no one’s there. I slide open the window to check just in case and a package falls to the rooftop with a hard thud, making me startle. When I look again, I find a haphazardly wrapped present—for me—and my thoughts drift back to Luke, thinking he’s finally giving me the hat I so desperately wanted. Only the shape isn’t right for that, and there’s no way he would have bothered with wrapping paper.
Leaning over, I stretch out, the tips of my fingers just reaching the parcel to get it into my hands, my mind whirring with possibilities.
There are only two people that have ever made a comment about the easy access to my room from my parents’ balcony. First was Luke, when he asked Mom and Dad to nail the window shut so I couldn’t sneak anyone in here—like that would ever be a thing—and the second was Melissa, but she gave me a present yesterday.
There’s no note, but when I open the wrapping and see what’s inside, I don’t need one.
A nervous giggle escapes me as I stare down at the book in my hands—a pristine copy of A Walk To Remember by Nicholas Sparks. I know who it’s from, and God, my heart races.
Thomas gave me a birthday present. Thomas knocked on my window. Thomas just made my year.
And then he walked away without letting me thank him.
What’s that about?