“You can go to the movie with us.”
“I’m grounded, remember?”
Mom frowns at me. “With that tone and attitude, you’ll be grounded even longer.”
“Sorry,” I say without really meaning it. “When will you be back?”
“Nine-thirty at the latest.”
“Have fun. I’m going to sleep.” I roll over and bury my head in the pillow.
“At least come down and eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“Fine,” she says after a moment. “Have it your way. Sulk up here all night if you want, but don’t expect to lie around in bed all day tomorrow, just because you don’t have school.”
I didn’t have school tomorrow anyway, even though it’s Friday. A teachers’ institute or something like that. Otherwise, Mom and Dad would never take the kids to a movie or a game on a Thursday night.
I don’t answer her, and I don’t move until I hear the door click. Perfect. They’ll never know I’m gone.
Five
I’ve been to events like these with Peyton and her parents before, so I’m not shocked to see so many of the same people who appear in the entertainment and celebrity section of the newspaper standing around with drinks in their hands.
Instead of rows of seats you usually find in a concert, there are little round tables that seat two to eight people, with pristine white tablecloths, flowers, candles and a plate of hors d’oeuvres to be shared. What’s even more perfect is that our table is near the front and center. A waiter stops by our table and we order Cokes. We know better than to even try and drink. Besides, it’s not our thing. I’m just excited to be here. To hear and see Christian Sucato, even if my stomach is a little tight. I’ve never snuck out of my house before, and if Mom and Dad learn, they’ll be livid.
It’s not like they’d understand anyway. They don’t get me at all and haven’t for a few years. It’s not like I’m a bad kid, but they are so fucking overprotective. Dad tried to tell me that it’s because I was so sick when I was little and Mom was so afraid of losing me that she can’t quite let go. It’s so bad that when I even mention a college or university outside of New York City, the woman practically has a stroke.
Does she think I’m going to live in her house forever? Marry and raise my kids there? I don’t want her life. I want my own. I want to play and compose music, and even if it doesn’t work out, I’ve got to at least try. But I won’t even get that chance now. Mrs. Dosek told me to my face that she doesn’t want me as a student.
“Stop your pouting,” Peyton says.
“I’m not pouting,” I argue. Though, maybe I am.
“Forget about your mom, your dad, and Mrs. Dosek for tonight and let’s have fun.”
Peyton is right. When will I get another chance like this?
The lights dim and everyone goes to their seats. Then Christian Sucato takes the stage with his saxophone. Peyton and I sigh in unison.
“He’s so hot,” she says.
“Not bad for being like thirty-something.”
He starts to play and the hairs go up on my arms. I don’t know if I’m more mesmerized by him or his music. Peyton and I don’t say anything, but just watch and listen, and probably falling a bit in love too. I’ve had a crush on him since I was fourteen, and I don’t think it’s ever going to go away.
I don’t know how many songs he played, but it wasn’t enough. Before I know it, the lights are coming back up. I could have sat there all night listening and watching.
After putting his sax away, he steps down from the low stage and makes his rounds, shaking hands with the patrons, engaging in chitchat, while Peyton and I watch.
“Let’s go talk to him,” she says.
“I couldn’t.” He is a star. A heavenly star. I can’t just walk up to him.
“My father paid a thousand a ticket for this event, so we get the privilege of meeting him.”
“You go.” My stomach is in knots just thinking about being close to my idol.
Before she can get out of her seat, he’s walking in our direction and stops right in front of our table.
He’s looking at me out of curiosity. “Have we met?”
Oh, if only. “No.” I breathe out with a sigh.
“You probably saw her picture in the paper. She’s always winning some kind of music award.”
My face heats.
Peyton sticks out her hand. “I’m Peyton Walker, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”
She’s met all kinds of celebrities and political figures in the past so this doesn’t faze her one bit. I wish I could be half as comfortable as her.
“This is my friend, Madison Cross.”
It’s almost as if recognition lights in his eyes and a small smile forms. He takes my hand. “It is very nice to meet you, Madison.”
“And you.” I squeak out. “Your music is wonderful.”
“Thank you.” His smile is so warm it nearly melts my heart. “What do you play, or do you sing?”
I just blink at him.
“Madison plays the piano, violin and cello,” Peyton answers for me. “She’s very gifted.”
His smile widens and there’s something like warm approval in his brown eyes. I may have just fallen further in love with this beautiful man.
“Well, I hope to hear you play one day.” And then he moves on.
This may have been the worst day of my life, but it is the best night ever!
Six
The house is dark and I’m quiet as a mouse as I go up to my room, certain that everyone is in bed already. It is late, later than I’ve ever stayed out.
As I open the door to my room, the light floods into the hallway and my parents are sitting on the bed, holding the note I left.
