A lot of good it does though. Brooke has private instructors and some awards, and she told me that she’s practically assured a spot at Juilliard. She could be lying, which wouldn’t surprise me, but the one thing she has over me is the letters of recommendation and the money to pay tuition, room and board.
Not only do I need Mrs. Dosek to write a letter, I need to find someone to write a check. Scholarships are not easy to come by, but at least I’ve gotten straight A’s since entering high school. Except, they aren’t the weighted classes. I know my talents, and math and science are not exactly at the top of the list. I’ve got the requirements to graduate, but that’s about it. Nothing on my current high school transcripts screams smart girl. Well, except English and Literature. Those I ace without effort, and those are weighted. Not that any of those classes matter at Juilliard, where my talent needs to get me a place. Grades and smarts help, but they aren’t going to consider me with just middle and high school teachers writing about my talent.
My last chance at Juilliard just walked out the door and I need to face reality and actually look at other universities.
“I know that look,” Peyton warns.
“What look?”
“The worst case scenario. You’re stuck at a piano at the local community college for a choir that can hardly sing, and they are only there because it’s an easy A and fits the elective option.”
She’s right. That is what I fear. Not that community college is bad, but I can’t imagine I’d learn much more than I do in high school. And I want to learn. I want to compose, but I know I have so much to learn.
Peyton starts dragging me toward the door.
“We aren’t supposed to leave. Chaperones and all that.”
She rolls her eyes. “They’ll never know.” With a quick glance over her shoulder, she pushes me out the door.
I don’t break rules. And, if I were in my right mind, I’d insist that Peyton stay in the music hall like we are supposed to. I’m the grounded one, keeping Peyton from getting into trouble. But, today I don’t care. Nothing will make me feel better right now except a pint of Gold Medal Ribbon, and I might just eat it all in one sitting.
Four
“What in God’s name possessed you to do such a thing?” my mother yells when I get into the car. She’d remained cool and calm when the teachers were explaining my violation, but I could feel the tension rolling off her, even as I apologized.
I’m in trouble. Big trouble, but I really don’t care.
“Do you have any idea the panic, the terror, the horrible things that went through my mind when your teacher called to say that you and Peyton were missing?”
“We just stepped out for ice cream,” I grumble. We had thought Baskin-Robbins was only a few blocks away and that nobody would miss us. Turns out it was about ten blocks, then we sat and ate our ice cream there because we couldn’t exactly bring it back into the school or people would know where we’d gone. “We lost track of time.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave the campus at all. Not even the building. What has gotten into you?”
“I’m sorry, okay,” I yell back.
“You will be sorry.” She pulls into traffic. “You are suspended for three days, but you will be making up the work at home.”
Not going back to the school for three days isn’t exactly a hardship.
“No phone, no computer, no iPad, no TV. Nothing but study and practice.”
Peyton is the only person I talk to the most and anything I watch on television is also recorded, so I’m not really missing anything there. I’ll just catch up when the punishment has been lifted.
“And, no Peyton. I don’t want you hanging out with that girl anymore. She’s a bad influence.”
This gets my attention. “Peyton is my best friend.”
“Make a different one. I’m sure it was Peyton who suggested you two leave for ice cream.”
I just shrug because it’s the truth.
“It used to be that you had influence over her, but she’s turned you.”
“Turned me,” I nearly laugh. What the hell am I, a zombie?
“She’s doesn’t have sense, and apparently you don’t either.”
Here she goes. “Nothing happened to us.”
“Well, your teachers and I didn’t know that now did we?” she yells. “For two hours you were gone and nobody knew where you were. They were about to call the police.”
Really, they are making way too much out of this. “I’m sorry. I won’t ever do anything like that again.”
“I know you won’t, because you will not be able to go anywhere without your father or me.”
Okay, now she’s being ridiculous, but I don’t voice those thoughts. She’s angry enough. In a few days Mom will calm down.
“Why did you leave anyway? That’s not like you.”
If I tell her the truth, she’ll yell, because for some reason, she doesn’t like my contacting Mrs. Dosek. If I lie, she’ll know.
“Well?”
“I talked to Mrs. Dosek,” I finally say.
My mother stills, and it’s as if the color drains from her face. Really, what is the big deal? Mrs. Dosek is a teacher in a public school, has private students and is very well respected. Mom behaves as if she’s a serial killer or something.
Mom clears her throat. “Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to know why she won’t take me on as a student. I wanted to ask why she never stays to listen to me play, but I didn’t.”
“I’m sure she has other students to see.”
“She was right outside of the auditorium. I’m sure she
