regular clothes.
Briefly, through my rage, I wondered how in the world she was allowed to drive. She was fifteen too, and couldn’t have gotten more than a permit to drive with another licensed adult. I didn’t see anyone in the car with her.
When Dad drove past her, she didn’t even look up. She just put both hands on the top of the steering wheel and rested her forehead between them.
I almost told Dad to stop. To go back. That there was someone I needed to talk to.
Almost.
Dad turned on the radio as we pulled out of the lot. I guess I’d brought the whole fam down, because no one said a word. I did see Gabby getting and sending text messages for a bit, but that was all.
Gabrielle scowled at her phone. “Give me your cell,” she said.
“Why?”
“Now.”
Because older sisters always win no matter what, I tossed her my cell. Gabby began texting real fast, eyes narrow in the pale light of the screen. After a minute, she tossed it back into my lap.
“There,” she said. “I just bailed your ass out.”
I looked at my outgoing messages. The last one was to Sydney.
Hey sorry my last text was short had stuff to do. You are awesome! I knew you’d do great. Congratulations, Syd. I’ll take you out for dinner to celebrate. :)
“The hell’s this?” I said to Gabby.
“Her team won first place,” Gabby said. “And you’re all like, ‘Hidey-ho, whatever, nice job, have a neat summer.’
God
, you’re dumb sometimes.”
Oops. While I couldn’t bring myself to thank Gabby out loud—my mind was still mostly elsewhere—I did have to acknowledge that she probably just saved me a whole lot of trouble.
“What are you guys talking about?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” we said together.
A few minutes later, about halfway home and only mildly back in my right mind, I asked everyone, “You’d tell me if I did a bad job, right?”
Mom turned. “Bad job at what, sweetie?”
“In the show. I mean, if the lights sucked, or the stage went black or something. You’d tell me, right?”
“If the stage went black, I think you’d know,” Dad said.
“Okay, what if I was an actor, and I totally sucked? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
Mom winced. “No,” she said carefully. “I don’t think we could ever say you sucked.”
“Even if I did?”
“No,” she said again. “Even if you did, we’d still be proud of you, and we’d tell you so. At the absolute worst, it stilltakes a lot of guts to get up in front of people and perform. And, Tyler, we
are
proud of you, being so involved like this. We both think it’s been really good for you.”
“Yep,” Dad said. “Absolutely.”
I hadn’t known that. I forgot about Becky for a nanosecond. “How so?”
“It got you away from your computer,” Mom said, glancing at me with a grin. “Not that we want you to stop writing, of course. We’re both proud of that, too. But your mood has definitely been different coming home from school after rehearsals. Lighter. More … smiley.”
Well, that was an easy one to explain. Not that I was about to try.
I wasn’t surprised by her response, either. It was nice to hear, obviously, but not a shock. Mom and Dad were pretty attentive to me and Gabrielle both. Irritating, yes. But kinda nice.
“You want to tell us what’s bothering you?” Mom asked as we stopped at the last streetlight before our neighborhood.
“A friend of mine is in the show,” I said. “And her parents didn’t even congratulate her. Just went on and on about this other guy because his parents are their clients or something.”
“What kind of clients?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”
“Well, that
is
obnoxious,” Mom said. “How’d she take it, this friend of yours?”
“She seemed okay, but I think it hurt her.”
“It did,” Dad stated, moving the car through the green light. “I guarantee you it did.”
Mom nodded. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “You should’ve pointed her out to us so we
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