Chapter 16
I didn’t leave the confines of my bed for the majority of Wednesday, instead choosing to hole up under the covers like an injured animal licking its wounds.
Thursday wasn’t any different.
Whether it was from emotional stress and heartbreak or because I’d actually come down with something, I’d been experiencing flu-like symptoms for the past two days.
Dad, who so far was taking his promise to be more involved in my life seriously, had called me in sick after my temperature registered over one hundred.
To keep my mind off Juilliard and the loss of my childhood dream, I picked a mindless TV show on Netflix to binge.
By the time I reached season four, my eyes hurt from staring at the glow of my laptop screen for days on end.
As illogical as it sounded, my brain was fried from doing absolutely nothing.
I needed a break.
And a shower, I realized as I pushed stringy bangs off my forehead. But I lacked the energy needed for my usual bathroom routine, so I opted for dry shampoo and deodorant.
Once I felt moderately less greasy, I went down to the kitchen for a snack.
I wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been since my fight with Violet, but eating was something to do.
After pouring myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes, I took a spot at the breakfast nook and scrolled through the texts I’d been ignoring since Tuesday.
Tue, Dec 1, 6:38 p.m.
Galaxy Rider:
Indie, I’m so sorry.
I know I should’ve told you about Violet earlier, but can we talk? I want to explain myself.
Hello?
Wed, Dec 2, 1:51 p.m.
Galaxy Rider:
So…I may have left you the world’s longest voicemail where all I do is ramble.
Feel free to save me the embarrassment by deleting it.
I just wanted to let you know that I spoke with Violet and Alec.
The three of us decided to push off recording the single until Friday so you and I could have time to talk.
If you could give me a call before then, I’d really appreciate it.
Thu, Dec 3, 7:13 p.m.
Galaxy Rider:
Sofia said you haven’t shown up for school the past two days. Is everything okay? I’m worried about you.
Indie, I want you there tomorrow. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you and it would feel wrong recording this song without you.
Fri, Dec 4, 6:46 a.m.
Galaxy Rider:
Okay, I get it. You want to be left alone. I’ll stop bothering you.
I couldn’t bring myself to respond to any of his texts.
I knew he hadn’t meant to hurt me. And I wasn’t mad at him, not really. It was just really hard to ignore the ache in my chest whenever I thought about him working with Violet.
Sighing, I picked up my empty bowl and brought it over to the sink before sorting through yesterday’s mail, which was sitting in a pile on the island. A large envelope with my name and ACM’s logo printed on the front caught my attention. I ripped the letter open, unfolded the paper, and—
Accepted. I was accepted to ACM.
I should have been happy, grateful that Sofia had pushed me to apply somewhere other than Juilliard so I had a school to attend next fall, but I didn’t feel anything.
No excitement, no relief. Despite my love of SFX makeup, I was too gutted over my loss to feel anything other than heartbreak.
There were other good music schools I could apply to—I was pretty sure Curtis’s application wasn’t due until December 15—but my heart just wasn’t in it.
A knock on the front door startled me out of my thoughts.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
“In here,” I called, stuffing the acceptance letter into my back pocket.
Five seconds later, a girl with cat’s-eye glasses and French braids strode into the kitchen—Lydia, Violet’s personal assistant; between creating my portfolio for ACM, practicing for my Julliard audition, and trying my best to avoid Violet, I hadn’t seen her since early October.
“Hey, Indie! How are you?” she said in her usual bubbly voice. I had to give her props; how someone could work for my sister and still be so cheerful was beyond me.
“I’m all right. You?”
“Good, just delivering some work stuff for your dad,” she said, holding up a thick folder before setting it next to the pile of mail.
“Now I’m off to pick up lunch for Violet and some other people at the studio.
Did you hear she’s recording a song with Xander Jones from the Heartbreakers? How exciting is that?”
Just hearing his name was enough to make me flinch. “Oh yeah. Super exciting.”
Lydia must not have picked up on my tone, because she offered me one of her sunny smiles. “Do you want to come with me? I could use a hand with all the food orders, and I’m sure Violet would love to see you.”
That was highly doubtful.
“Thanks, but I can’t,” I replied. “I’ve been home sick for the past few days, so I have a lot of homework to catch up on.” Sofia had stopped by this morning with my assignments and promised to return after school with today’s workload.
“Ugh, that sounds like the worst.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
A pair of car keys jingled as Lydia pulled them out of her purse. “Well, I hope you feel better soon. It was good running into you.”
“You too,” I replied as she headed back toward the foyer. “And I’m glad to see your leg is better.”
Lydia turned back around, her eyebrows squished together. “My leg?”
“You broke it right before Comic Con, right?”
Her frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”
I gave her a weird look. “Violet asked me to be her personal assistant for the weekend because you broke your leg.”
“No,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “She gave me off that weekend.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Not sure, but it definitely wasn’t because I hurt myself. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. See you around, Indie.”
* * *
Sitting on the piano bench in the music room, I stared down at the keys as if they were pieces to the puzzle I was trying to put together. After Lydia left, I’d come back upstairs with the intention of crawling under my covers again but had somehow wound up in here.
I hadn’t played a single note since lifting the fallboard. I was too lost in my own confusion to make room for something as simple as a song. It made absolutely no sense that Violet had given Lydia time off for such a huge promotional event, yet she’d asked me to come to Comic Con instead.
Why?
I closed my eyes and pored over my memories of the trip for any clues.
The only thing that made me pause was the conversation we’d had on the flight to New York when Violet had mentioned dinner reservations and mani-pedis.
Had she…wanted to hang out with me? She’d said as much, but I’d figured she was just being nice.
The thought was laughable, absurd even, but also the only explanation that came to mind.
Things just weren’t adding up.
If my ridiculous theory was true and she actually had wanted to spend time with me that weekend, I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed. And why now? Because for the past five years, Violet had been too busy being Lilliana LaCroix to be my big sister.
Then again, if I was being truly honest with myself, I hadn’t been a very good sister either.
I’d spent so much energy resenting the way her career had changed my life, then blaming her for causing Mom and Dad’s divorce.
I was hurt she’d never come to any of my orchestra concerts, but when was the last time I’d shown up to support Violet for one of her events?
She literally had to pay me to go to Comic Con, and the only reason I’d attended the IN premiere was because Xander had asked me to.
On top of that, I’d congratulated Alec on his record label but hadn’t said a word to Violet about recording her first album.
And all the while, she’d constantly checked in with me about my Juilliard application, which was way more than Dad had ever done.
I’d thought Violet was being nosey and overbearing, but what if she genuinely wanted to make sure I did well?
It was hard for me to admit, but maybe Violet was…different.
At some point, she’d changed for the better, but I had no way of knowing when because I’d been too angry with her to notice.
Yes, she was just as busy as she’d always been, but when she was home, she made a point of seeing how I was doing.
The two of us had spoken more in the past two months than we had in years.
Whatever her motive for inviting me to Comic Con, I realized I owed her an apology.
Violet was right—I needed to stop blaming her for my own unhappiness.
If I wasn’t pleased with the way my life was going, then I needed to do something about it.
I was an adult. It wasn’t Violet’s, my parents’, or anyone else’s job to make sure I was content.
Happiness didn’t just exist inside people like blood or bones or DNA—it had to be created.
Violet spent October and November trying to fix the rift between us. But I’d ignored her and spat those efforts back in her face.
It was time for that to change.
With a newfound sense of understanding, I slid off the piano bench and went to my dad’s office. He was on the phone, but as soon as he saw me standing in the doorway, he ended his call. There was a look of concern etched into the lines of his face.
“Indie, are you okay?” he asked, the wheels of his computer chair whirling against the floor as he pushed away from his desk. “Your fever isn’t worse, is it?”
“Actually,” I said, scraping a hand through my bangs, “I’m feeling much better, and I was hoping to talk to you about something?”
“Sure,” he said, relaxing into a smile. He wheeled back toward his desk, then pointed to the armchair on the opposite side, indicating that I should take a seat. “What about?”
I pulled it out and sank into the cushion. “Well, I thought a lot about Violet today, and I came to the realization that I haven’t been very fair to her. I was wondering if you’d let me go to the recording studio so I could apologize to her.”
He frowned. “I don’t know, Indie.”