There was no way I could walk home. The adrenaline from rehearsals wore off and exhaustion settled into my bones. “Fine,” I said before another yawn overtook me.
Dylan laughed and opened the passenger side door. “Just give me your address. I’ll punch it in my GPS and wake you up when we get there.”
I settled into the seat. Once Dylan had programed my address in the GPS, I asked the one question that had been on my mind since auditions. “Why’d you insist on me?”
“Huh?” he said, slowing to a stop at the light out of the theater.
“As one of the backup singers? Mr. Walker said you insisted on me.” I turned toward him. “Why?”
Dylan’s lips pursed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything right away. I waited. Finally after a couple of blocks, he answered my question with one of his own.
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes,” I responded instantly. “Is it true? Or did he lie to me?”
“He didn’t lie.” Dylan glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “But he didn’t tell the truth either.”
My heart sank. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t. But I did. “Explain.”
Dylan pulled over and threw the Camry in park. “I told Dad you were too damn good to be his backup singer, okay? He took that as a challenge and added you to the band.”
“I’m too good?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said. He turned in his seat. “You’re raw though. Like an uncut gem. Your voice is powerful at times and weak at others, and your pitch is damn near perfect. Not that I’m an expert, but I’ve been around this business enough to know what works and what doesn’t.”
“And I work?” It didn’t seem possible. I mean, yeah, it was something I’d dreamed of hearing, but to actually hear it was something else entirely.
Dylan laughed and put the car back in drive. He pulled onto the street. “You’ve got the voice, but not the skill. And definitely not the look. At least not for rock. Maybe the sweet, poor, innocent girl works for country though.”
“Wait, I don’t have the skill? What’s that supposed to mean?” He raised me up to pull the rug out from underneath me.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, Cameron,” Dylan said before the GPS voice directed him to take a left. “I meant that you just need guidance, refinement with your voice.”
“And the knock on my looks?” I asked, not wanting an answer to that either. “What’s wrong with how I look?”
“Well, to be honest, your clothes are boring. Your hair is gorgeous, but you don’t style it. You don’t wear makeup.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not enough to have an amazing voice to get noticed in the music business. You need to stand out and show off. You need to redefine yourself. That’s why you auditioned, right? Because you want a career in the music business?”
“Yeah, of course. I thought I could learn something from Mr. Walker before I leave.” I sat back in the seat with a bit of a huff and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Leave? Where to?” He turned onto my street.
“L.A., Nashville, New York? I don’t know. Just not here.” I stared out the window and watched my house come into view. Jake hadn’t mowed the lawn in over a week. The grass was so high I needed a machete to cut my way through to the front door. None of the lights were on inside, making the ramshackle place appear abandoned.
“No plan? That’s not a good idea, Cameron.” He stared at my house. I could hear the questions circling inside his head. He’d probably grown up in a mansion. This wasn’t what he’d expected, but it was all I knew. “Tell you what. I need something else to do around this town and you need guidance. Let me help you.”
“And what do you get out of it?” I asked, more than uncertain that this was a good idea.
“A break from my dad. A break from boredom.” He smiled mischievously. “A chance to impart my knowledge.”
I laughed. “Oh teach me great rockstar.”
“I will. What time do you get out of school tomorrow?”
“Three fifteen, why?”
“I’ll pick you up before rehearsal. We can discuss what you want with your career and how you need to get there. That may help you figure out where to go when you leave.” He tapped the steering wheel. “That okay?”
“Yeah, okay. But ... I have to come home first. To do chores. So maybe we can meet somewhere else.”
“Or I can help.” His lips tightened. “I’ve never done chores before. Might be interesting.”
“You’re insane.”
“So I’ve heard. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cameron.”
“Okay.”
I climbed out of his car and waved as he pulled away. This wasn’t a good idea, but I loved it anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I failed the test. There was no doubt in my mind. If I had to go to summer school, that would ruin everything. I cleaned out my locker, dumping my useless notebooks and pens into the same backpack I’d had since my freshman year. It wasn’t new then either.
Dylan’s words echoed in my head. I didn’t have the look. My clothes weren’t anything special; jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes. When it was too hot outside, shorts replaced the jeans. The only other thing I owned was my work uniform from Icee Hut, but I’d lost that job a month ago when it closed. Even my church clothes were a few old dresses from Goodwill. Everything I earned went into a savings account, my moving money. My wages from the show were going to nicely plump that and make things easier.
“How’d it go?” Iris asked. She leaned against the next locker and frowned. “I’m going to say not good.”
My heart collapsed and a sob escaped. “I’m not going to graduate. I failed the damn test.” I slammed my locker and banged
