Friday Night Stage Lights Page 20

  “We’ve got this, right, kiddo?” he asked, and my mood shifted. I hated lying to him. The guilt from my lies sat heavy and deep inside of me, and I felt like a horrible person. “You and I are going to shine, and it’s because we’re doing what’s important to us.”

  “We are,” I told him, my voice low and wobbly. I wanted to say more, but I was afraid if I did, tears would spill out of my eyes. So instead, I nodded and gave him a quick hug.

  “You’ll wow those judges,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”

  But I wasn’t proud of myself at all. I felt like a traitor as I listened to him. I’d lied to everyone, maybe even myself.

  Chapter 56

  Tanner and the team left with a send-off fit for kings.

  Seriously, the band played the fight song, the cheerleaders led us all in a chant, the drill team did a routine, little kids threw confetti, and the sports boosters shot off fireworks.

  Yes, fireworks.

  They weren’t huge giant ones, but they were loud and spectacular enough to get everyone even more fired up for the game. I was surprised we didn’t cause an earthquake with the way we cheered and stomped our feet. I couldn’t imagine how loud it would be in the stadium that afternoon and what might happen if they won.

  Wait, I take that back: when they won. Because I had no doubt that with Tanner leading the team, they were going to bring that title home.

  I headed back to the house with Mom and Stephen. The plan was for them to drop me off at home before they began the two-hour trek to the game. I’d told them that Mary Rose was happy to take me so they could go to the game. The lies continued to pile up, and I felt worse and worse inside. Today was supposed to be a happy day full of celebrating and cheering Tanner on, and instead, I was deceiving everyone. When I lied to Logan about doing the solo, I thought I was doing it for a good reason—to convince him to go to the game—but maybe I was wrong. Was there ever a time a lie was good? From the awful way I felt now, I wasn’t sure there was.

  Stephen drove the car back home, but when he got there, he didn’t turn the engine off. Instead, Mom leaned over and gave him a kiss good-bye and jumped out.

  “I’ll see you later this afternoon,” she told him. “Love you.”

  “Love you back,” he said and waved at me. “Good luck, Brooklyn. You’ll do great.”

  “Aren’t you going to the game with him?” I asked as Stephen pulled out of the driveway.

  “Change of plans. I’m going to drive to the game by myself,” Mom said. “I have something more important to do right now.”

  “More important?” I asked. Leighton was pretty much going to be a ghost town as everyone made the trip to the game. I couldn’t imagine what was going on that was more important than getting down there. I was surprised Mom hadn’t camped out the night before to get the best seat in the stadium.

  “Yep, I have a batch of extraspecial blueberry pancakes to whip up for someone who has a pretty big afternoon. We sent Tanner off to the game with a big to-do; it’s only fitting that I do the same for you. What do you think? Do you have time for some pancakes with your mom?”

  “Do I? Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  I couldn’t help it; I threw my arms around her. My response might have been a bit over-the-top, but my goodness, was it amazing to have Mom all to myself.

  Mom laughed and gestured toward the house. “All right, then, let’s get cooking.”

  I followed her inside and sat on one of the stools at the island. I cracked the eggs into the bowl for her like I always used to do when we had our surprise pancake breakfasts. Mom turned the radio on, and instead of listening to the local station that blabbed on and on about football, she turned some music on. The two of us sang along as we made breakfast. It was incredible. I had missed this time with Mom, but I hadn’t known I missed it this much. Time alone with Mom was everything, and this felt so familiar. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that the sounds and smells around me were from my old house and we were still in Oregon.

  Mom held up a plate full of perfect-looking pancakes and curtsied as if it were the end of a ballet performance.

  “Breakfast is served,” Mom said.

  “I like the sound of that,” I told her as I settled into my seat at the table.

  I cut a pancake with my fork and put the first bite into my mouth. The blueberries burst open, warm and tart and incredible. I shoveled in a few more bites before I spoke.

  “This is so good,” I told Mom.

  “Isn’t it? I don’t know why we don’t do it more often.”

  I wanted to tell her that I did. That it was because she was too busy with Stephen and Tanner and her new life. That sometimes it felt as if she had forgotten about me. Instead, I told her how I wished it could be. How I wanted it to be.

  “We could do this more often,” I said.

  “We will do it more often,” Mom agreed, and she said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help but believe her. It was the first time in forever that I’d actually felt as if Mom would make time for me, and that made all the difference.

  “So tell me,” she said. “What are you dancing for your solo? I know nothing about this, which is unbelievable, because I usually know everything about you and ballet.”

  “You used to,” I said softly.

  “What?” Mom asked.

  I didn’t want to ruin this perfect morning, but if I didn’t say anything now, when would I? Tanner taught me a thing or two about having the courage to speak up, so if he could do it, I should too.

  “You used to know everything about my dancing, but then after you met Stephen, it wasn’t important anymore. I felt as if I wasn’t important anymore.” I said the last part quietly, because things like that were hard to speak out loud. They were nearly impossible to say. But it was important stuff, and I needed to get it out. Mom needed to hear it.

  “You were never not important. Ever. You’re the most important person in my life, and nothing will change that,” Mom said so firmly that I almost believed her. But then I remembered how I’d felt when she’d begun to spend more time with Stephen and when she’d missed my recital. She could say one thing, but actions were a lot more important.

  “I know you love me,” I told her. “But you spend so much time with Stephen and Tanner. You became obsessed with football and are always doing things for the team. It’s as if you have forgotten about me.”

  “Honey, I never meant for you to feel that way. I was trying to make our family work. To show Tanner that he was important to me too.”

  “But by doing that, it seemed as if I wasn’t.”

  Her eyes got watery, and I thought she was going to cry, which made me feel awful. Mom never cried. She stood up, and before I realized what she was doing, she had scooped me up into the biggest hug in the world. She hugged me so tight that I thought I might pop. She squeezed and she squeezed and instead of fighting it, I let her arms stay around me, where I felt safe and secure and loved.

  “You are so important,” she said when she finally let go. “And I’m so sorry for making you think for even a second that you weren’t. That’s never going to happen again.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. Telling Mom the truth and getting everything out in the open made everything so much better. So much lighter. I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding inside. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” Mom said. “But I’m going to make sure it is.”

  “That would be nice, because I’ve really missed you. I’ve missed us.” I gestured to the dirty dishes from the breakfast we had finished. “And I definitely missed all of this.”

  Mom waved her hands over the dishes as if she were doing a magic spell. “I declare my first step in making sure Brooklyn always knows how truly amazing she is, is to bring back our monthly blueberry pancake breakfasts!”

  “Hear, hear!” I yelled and raised a fist in solidarity.

  “The second step is to go to the Showcase with you.”

  �
�You can’t,” I said. “It starts at two and the game is at four. There’s no way you’d be able to do both.”

  “Talking to you has made me realize that the only place I want to be is front and center at the Showcase watching you dance.”

  “But what about Tanner?” I asked.

  “I’ve been to a ton of his games this year. I want to be here for you.”

  “Mom, it’s okay. Go cheer on Tanner. It’s his last game, and you should be there,” I said, and unlike the other day, when I’d talked Mom out of going to the Showcase because I was afraid she’d make that choice herself, I really did want her to go to the game. Tanner had worked so hard for this, and Mom should be at the game.

  “I want to do it,” she interrupted. “I’m not doing it to be nice or because I’m your mom. I’m doing it because I love to watch you dance. And this dance is going to be one of your best ever.”

  “Thanks for the pressure,” I joked, but it felt good—really good—to know Mom wanted to be there for me. And a funny thing happened. As the two of us talked, I realized that I did want to dance. Maybe I’d get into the school and maybe I wouldn’t, but it wasn’t about that anymore. It was about doing what I loved.

  “I’d love for you to come and watch me dance again,” I told her. “But I have to do this myself. I need to prove to myself that I don’t have to rely on anyone.”

  And it was true. There’d be plenty of other shows that she’d be able to come and watch, and after our discussion, I was confident she’d do exactly that. Maybe she hadn’t been at my recital, but nothing could change that now. Instead, I needed to have the courage to dance again by myself, so that there would be future shows where she’d be able to come and see me.

  “Are you sure?” Mom asked. “I want you to know I’m here for you.”

  “You are here for me. I understand that now. But today, this is something I have to do myself. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I’ve got this,” I told her, and for the first time in a long time, I really felt like I did. I could do this. No, scratch that, I would do this.

  Chapter 57

  Everything between Mom and me felt right again. She gave me another giant hug before leaving for the game, and I had good feelings about us. Really good.

  However, as the car drove down the street and out of my sight, I realized one teeny tiny mistake.

  I didn’t have a ride to the Showcase. I’d forgotten to ask Mom for a ride. I was stuck at home with no way to get there.

  I called Mary Rose as soon as I realized my mistake hoping maybe she could drive me, but her phone went straight to voicemail.

  I called Mia next, even though I didn’t know how she could help.

  “I’m going to dance in the Showcase,” I said, not even bothering to say hello.

  “Duh, that’s what I was telling you all along. You can’t pass up this chance. Ballet is everything to you.”

  “You were right, I was wrong,” I admitted. “But now there’s a serious obstacle in the way.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t have a way to the Showcase. I mean, I have a bike, but it’s kind of far away. And even if I could make it in time, I’d probably be too tired to—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mia interrupted. “You’re not riding your bike.”

  “You think I should call a taxi? I mean, my parents would kill me, but what other option do I have than my bike? Everyone in this town is at the game.”

  “I’m not at the game yet.”

  “I thought you were going down with the middle school team,” I told her. “Besides, it’s not like you can drive me.”

  “We’re still here. One of the players on the high school team forgot his cleats, so Coach Trentanelli asked that we bring them down. We’re about to swing by his house to get them because his mom gave Coach Konarski the garage code.”

  “Really?” I asked, not sure what was more ridiculous, that someone would forget his cleats on the day of the biggest game of his life or that he’d have to have someone break into his house to get them.

  “I couldn’t make up a lie as wild as this,” Mia said. “Give me five minutes to come up with a plan and I’ll call you back.”

  “You’re going to figure this out?” I asked, not believing it for a second.

  “Not only am I going to figure it out, I’m going to save the day. What is it they say in ballet, ‘It’s not over until the fat lady sings’?”

  “Um, I think that’s for the opera.”

  “I was close,” Mia said. “Just hang in there. I’ve got this. You’ll make it to the Showcase.”

  And before I could tell her that I wished what she’d said was true, she hung up on me. I paced back and forth in the kitchen, not sure what to do. Could Mia really figure this out? I didn’t doubt that she’d try, but I couldn’t imagine her actually making it happen.

  I grabbed on to the counter as if it were a ballet barre and stretched myself. If there was a chance Mia could get me there, I’d better start warming my muscles now.

  I was working on a series of leg extensions when my phone buzzed with a message from Mia.

  BE READY IN 10 MIN

  READY FOR WHAT? I typed back to her.

  10 MIN, she wrote again.

  That wasn’t like Mia at all. She was all about the full story and making sure you got it—and not just in her reporting, but in her everyday life, too. So this was unusual, but I had to trust her; I had no other options.

  I made sure my bag was packed with everything I needed and waited on the front step. My neighborhood was quiet. There were no dogs barking, car horns beeping, or kids yelling to one another. I tried not to watch my watch, but I couldn’t help it. Time was passing, and if I didn’t get moving, I wasn’t going to make it. Was she even the one coming? If so, how? I hoped she had some spectacular plan, but what that was, I had no idea.

  I saw a flash of yellow turn onto my street and silently joked with myself that Mia must have sent me a bus. I pictured myself climbing on and riding it all the way to the Showcase. The idea was so absurd that it made me laugh out loud. Well, until the bus stopped in front of my house, the big whoosh from the brakes as it settled into a park position pulling me out of my daydream.

  The yellow bus was in front of my house.

  I repeat, a big yellow school bus was in front of my house.

  And Mia hung out the first window.

  “Hey, Brooklyn! Yoo-hoo! We’re here!” She waved her arms around as if it were impossible to spot this bus in front of my house. As if anyone could ignore it.

  And if it wasn’t ridiculous enough to see Mia hanging out of the window, the entire middle school team was doing the same.

  Every single one of them.

  And they all waved and called my name.

  “What the heck are you doing?” I asked when she stepped off the bus.

  “Taking you to the Showcase.” She brandished her arm as if presenting the bus to me. “And not just taking you to the Showcase, but doing it in style.”

  “Um, it’s something, all right. Is this even allowed?”

  “Yep. But don’t thank me for this awesome idea. Logan is the one who came up with it.”

  “Logan?” I asked. I had forgotten about him in the midst of all of this. Mia would’ve had to tell the team the truth, so what must he think? He had to know I’d lied to him, so why would he want to help me?

  Mia scurried into the bus and came out with Logan.

  “Here, you two talk. I’ll save you a seat,” she said and left the two of us alone. The other boys pulled up their windows to give us privacy.

  The two of us walked over to my front step and took a seat.

  “So this was all you?” I asked.

  “It was nothing. I told Coach Konarski what was going on and he was happy to help you out. But what I don’t get is why you lied to me. Why did you say you were dancing alone before?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want you to have to make a c
hoice between the Showcase and football. It wasn’t fair.”

  “So you decided for me?” he asked, with a hurt look on his face.

  “I thought it was the easiest thing to do,” I said.

  “I told you that I would’ve danced with you. I still will. The bus can take both of us to the Showcase,” Logan said.

  “You don’t have to do that for me,” I told him.

  “Oh, it would be for both of us. We make an amazing team,” he said and jumped up and did an exaggerated spin with his hands over his head.

  “We do, don’t we?” I said and grinned.

  “The best,” he said. “So, what do you say? Should we go blow those judges away with our amazing lifts and leaps?”

  And to emphasize his point, he leapt and twirled around my tree lawn, even as the boys on the team watched from the windows and cheered him on. I couldn’t believe this was the same boy who’d ignored me and hadn’t wanted to be my partner because he was afraid of what the other boys on the team were going to say. And here he was dancing in front of them all right now without a care in the world.

  I wanted to say yes. It would be so much easier than dancing the solo.

  But I couldn’t.

  I had to do this by myself.

  If Tanner had taught me anything, it was to believe in yourself. And that was something that I hadn’t done in a long time. Instead, I’d used excuses and let my fear get in the way. Jayden and Logan were crutches for me. If I really wanted to prove to myself that I had what it took for TSOTA, then I needed to dance alone.

  “I’d love to dance with you. You’ve been an amazing partner, and together we probably would rule the dance world, but this is something I need to do alone.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I was looking forward to wearing my polka-dot costume that matches your pajamas.”

  “Positive. We’ll have to save that costume for the talent show,” I told him. “You think I’m joking, but we’re totally showing the entire school what we’ve got.”

  “Only if you promise a rematch for the Mighty Mites game.”