Chapter 13
My pocket vibrated with an incoming text as I ditched my backpack in the mudroom. Scrambling to pull out my phone, I nearly tripped over a box of plastic bottles that needed to be taken out to the recycling bin.
Galaxy Rider:
Made it in one piece. How was school?
I typed a quick response as I headed toward the kitchen for a snack.
Indie:
Boring. Mondays are the worst. How was your flight?
On Saturday, Xander and I had lingered on the beach all night, talking and kissing until the blaze of sunrise announced the start of a new day.
After parting ways, we spent the rest of the weekend texting each other.
Because once the Heartbreakers’ tour started, who knew how often Xander would find time to talk?
Their flight to Mexico had left this morning, and I’d made him promise to let me know as soon as they landed.
I was not ashamed to admit I’d been waiting all afternoon to receive his text.
Galaxy Rider:
Eh, I took a nap. Major mistake.
Indie:
What’s wrong with napping?
Galaxy Rider:
My friends are assholes.
Indie:
…
Galaxy Rider:
Oliver and JJ pulled out all the oxygen masks, started shaking my seat, and shouted that the plane was going down.
Indie:
And you believed them?
Galaxy Rider:
I was groggy and disoriented from sleeping!
Indie:
Lmao, I take that as a yes?
Galaxy Rider:
Yeah, but only for like three seconds. Scared the shit out of me.
Indie:
How did they even get away with that? Didn’t the flight attendants stop them?
Galaxy Rider:
It was a private plane.
Indie:
Okay, really? Talk about first-world problems. You’re not getting any more sympathy from me.
Galaxy Rider:
Because you were being so sympathetic to begin with?
I was so preoccupied by my conversation with Xander that I didn’t realize there was anyone else in the room.
“Indie,” said an uncharacteristically stern voice.
I startled, nearly dropping my phone, and glanced around.
Dad was seated at the breakfast nook with only a mug of coffee positioned in front of him, no laptop or his usual spread of papers in sight.
Even his Bluetooth headset was nowhere to be found.
That the table was empty felt wrong somehow, like my father was missing one of his limbs. Why wasn’t he working?
“Oh, hey,” I said, giving him a puzzled once-over. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.” His mouth set into a thin, white line, and he pointed to the spot opposite him. “Sit down, please. We need to talk.”
“Okay?” I dropped onto the bench even though every muscle in my body was twitching with the urge to flee. We hadn’t seen each other since our fight at the theater, and I had a bad feeling this conversation wouldn’t go my way.
“I received a call from your guidance counselor this morning.” He paused and gave me a hard look. “Why did you skip school last Friday?”
Oh shit.
My mouth opened and closed as I searched for an answer to explain my absence. There was always the classic sick excuse, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Does it matter? I was home the entire time.”
“Of course it matters, Indigo. This is completely out of character for you.”
“I wasn’t drinking, doing drugs, or anything else diabolical,” I replied, my palms raised in defense. “There was a project I had to get done, that’s all.”
“If you’re struggling to finish your schoolwork, then you need to start budgeting your time more carefully,” he told me. “You can’t be so careless in college, or you’ll fall behind in your classes.”
A needle of annoyance pricked at me. Why was he blowing this situation out of proportion? Truancy wasn’t a hobby of mine. I’d never received a detention before, and on top of that, I was a straight A student. “Dad,” I said as calmly as possible, “I only missed one day.”
“This isn’t just about Friday. Violet told me you abandoned her at Comic Con, and you did the same thing to me the night of the premiere.
That’s not a one-time offense, it’s a pattern, so I want to make myself very clear: the kind of irresponsible behavior you’ve been exhibiting lately is unacceptable.
You’re grounded until Thanksgiving.” He said this firmly, his decision already made.
“From now on, you go to school, come home, and that’s it.
No hanging out with Sofia or watching TV. Am I clear?”
I gaped at him, my jaw on the brink of unhinging.
This was a joke, right? Mom had always taken a hands-on approach to parenting.
She packed my lunches, helped me with homework, and enforced my curfew.
But when she moved out, Dad never stepped up to the plate.
Living with him was more like having an invisible roommate than a parental figure.
And now, after years of being too busy to be present in my life, he was lecturing me on irresponsible behavior?
“Indie, am I clear?” he repeated.
Crossing my arms, I slumped against the back of the bench. “Crystal.”
Dad’s nostrils flared. “Do you think this is funny?”
In an effort not to snap, I sucked my lips between my teeth and silently counted to five. “No, I’m sorry,” I told him in what I hoped was a regretful tone.
He studied me for a moment, but my performance must have been believable, because the livid expression disappeared from his face, and he inclined his head. “Thank you, Indie. I appreciate that. Now why don’t we talk about something more pleasant?”
Oh, goodie! “Like what?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me how your Juilliard application is coming along?”
“It’s almost done,” I lied through gritted teeth. “Look, Dad, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a lot of homework to get done.”
“Right, of course,” he said with a nod. “I have work I need to finish as well.”
Three hours later, I wrenched a final note from the strings of my violin and exhaled. My entire upper body was drenched in sweat, and I felt as if my arms had turned to lead.
If one good thing had come from my argument with Dad, it was the angry energy searing through my veins.
I used it to tackle the only problem in my life I had control over—my Juilliard application.
Too amped up to overthink things, I selected four pieces I knew by heart that didn’t require any accompaniment.
After running through each one a couple of times, I set my laptop up on my desk and filmed myself playing.
Not for my prescreening video—I wasn’t even close to being ready for that—but so I could listen to the recording and pinpoint where I needed the most practice.
As I was setting my violin back in its case, the floorboards outside my bedroom door creaked. I whipped around and caught Violet standing in the hallway.
“What are you doing? Spying on me for Dad?” I asked through narrowed eyes. Clearly she had no issue being a tattletale, so I wouldn’t put it past her.
A hurt look flashed across her face. “No, of course not. I was just—”
“Just what?”
“I was listening to you, okay?” She tucked a pale blond curl behind her ear and heaved a sigh. “Didn’t realize that was such a crime.”
“Why?” I demanded. Violet was never interested in my music before. If she wanted to hear me play, she could have attended any number of my many orchestra concerts. Why did she suddenly care now?
“Because it’s been weeks since I’ve heard you play anything.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I was getting worried.”
I narrowed my eyes. “About what exactly?”
“Your Juilliard audition. After the conversation we had about your makeup stuff, I thought maybe you’d decided against applying and—”
“This again? I already told you, my college applications are none of your business.” I knew I was being unfair, that it was Dad who upset me, not Violet, but it felt good to take my anger out on something other than my violin. Right now, I wanted to be left alone.
My words had their desired effect. Violet’s expression turned to stone. “Okay, Indie. Message received.”
* * *
Just checking in
J Mitchell
Tue, Nov 3, 8:02 AM to Indie
Hi honey,
Is everything okay? Your father informed me that you skipped school and he had to ground you.
Also—any updates on your Juilliard application?
Xoxo,
Your slightly concerned mother
Re: Just checking in
Indie
Wed, Nov 4, 3:57 PM to J Mitchell
Dear Slightly Concerned Mother,
Everything is fine except for Dad overreacting. Any chance you can put in a good word for me so I’m not stuck at home until Thanksgiving???
My Juilliard application is almost done.
I selected all my pieces and am in the process of fine-tuning them.
I’ll send you the videos once everything is recorded and finalized.
There’s something I have to tell you though.
I’ve decided I need a backup plan. Please don’t freak out, but I’m also applying to a cinema makeup school.
You know how much I love that stuff, so I figured why not?
That’s why I skipped school. I had a very brief window of time to create a portfolio. It won’t happen again.
Love,
Your Slightly Rebellious Daughter
Just checking in
J Mitchell
Wed, Nov 4, 10:43 PM to Indie
Rebel Child,
Sorry, but I won’t go over your father’s head on this decision. If you can’t do the time, don’t commit the crime.
It’s so good to hear everything is finally coming together!!! I can’t wait to see what you picked out. I know you’ll blow me (and Juilliard) away.
Also, why would I freak out about you applying to a different school? I think it’s a great idea to keep your options open. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. You’ll do great things no matter what you decide.
Love you lots.
Xoxo,
Mom
* * *
Sun, Nov 8, 1:43 p.m.
Indie:
Hey stranger! How did your first week of touring go?
Galaxy Rider:
Pretty good. I only fainted onstage once.
Indie:
WHAT! Are you okay???
Galaxy Rider:
Lol gotcha!
How have things been on your end?
Indie:
Hilarious