Dream Chaser (22 page)

“Is he cute?” She leaned forward and smiled.

“Oh my god! You are going to die, Mom. He is so hot!”

“Your dad used to be hot,” she said with longing in her eyes.

“
Eww
, stop it.”

“Sounds like you’re crushing on your director,” she teased.

“No. Of course, not! But he’s so incredibly fun and nice and he says I remind him of his younger sister. Plus, he might be gay.” What a shame.

“What do you mean he might be? Either he is or he isn’t.” She started to crochet again, stretching her yarn out across her lap.

“That’s just it, he won’t tell!”

“You asked him
!?
Does it matter to you?” Mom raised an eyebrow.

“No, I didn’t ask, and of course it doesn’t matter. It would just be more fun to know he’s an eligible straight guy.”

“All right. I guess I get that.”

“So do you want to know how the show ends?”

“Absolutely!”

“Zach has a final dream. He rushes to find Lauren just as stalker Victor is about to kill her.”

“Gee, that’s fun,” she said with sarcasm.

“Then, Zach is so upset, because he can’t imagine life without her, that he kills himself too!”

“That is horrible.” She set her project down. “What a depressing show! They both die. I don’t think I want to go see it.”

“Mom, you have to. I’m in it! And it’s really not depressing.
Les
Mis
is depressing
,
everyone dies
. This is only a little bit depressing. BUT…” I paused for effect and spoke with a mysterious voice. “…
do
they really die?”

“They don’t die?” She sat forward.

“I didn’t say that.” I tilted my head to the side.

“So what happens?”

I shrugged.

“You have to tell me. They live because it was a dream? Or they escape? Or it was all a figment of Freud’s imagination? What?” She tickled my side.

“I’m not telling. You’ll have to come and see the show.”

“You’re cruel.” She poked my side with her crochet hook.

“I know. I can finally get back at you for feeding me soymilk and wheat germ all these years. Now you have to come see it.”

“I still don’t know if I want to. I heard the girl who plays Lauren is really mean.”

“No, the girl who plays Lauren is really exhausted.” I laid my head against the couch back. “Mom, it’s so much fun. I can’t believe how lucky I am. Other than the kids who don’t want me there, it’s perfect, and that’s getting better too.”

“I’m sorry we’re leaving for Grandma’s right as you’re going into the last couple of rehearsal weeks. I wish Breezy’s school break matched up with yours, so you could join us.”

“That’s okay. It’s been planned forever and you need to go. She’s been looking forward to it all winter. Plus, I’ll be gone most of the time anyway. I’m just worried about Twinkie being alone so much.” I reached under the blanket to pet her.

“She’s doing much better with her new meds. She sleeps all the time these days. I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Plus, Mr. Walters said he
can
let her out a couple of times during the day. That way you don’t have to come home early. Are you sure you’re okay staying alone?”

“Are you kidding? I’m seventeen. I can handle it. So you
gonna
stock the cupboards with junk food for me? I’m a growing girl.
Pleeease
.” I said with a cheesy smile and batted my eyelashes.

“Yeah, you’ll be a growing girl if you eat all that garbage. I’ve got some frozen meals put together for you. There’s a
Tofurkey
bean casserole, curried pesto zucchini and some roasted eggplant.”

“You’re mean.”

“I love it when you say that.” She leaned over and hugged me. “I’ll leave you extra money for take-out, but make good choices!”

“You’re the best. I love you.”

“You’re easy.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said under my breath. I couldn’t help but remember having my body draped on top of Eli as we made out last night.

Before heading home I decided to try to call Jilly again. I really wanted to wish her luck at sectionals and tell her about Eli and rehearsal and how confused things were getting. Under normal circumstances I knew she’d love to hear about it and tell me what to do, but we were still on the outs and I didn’t know how to fix it. I resorted to texting her, since she didn’t seem to want to hear my voice.

“Hey Jilly, good luck at Sectionals. I know you’ll be awesome. With you flying they can’t go wrong. Call me. I have tons to tell you.”

*
  
*
  
*

A few days later, as I pulled up in front of Gloria’s house, I saw her waving from her car. I parked, and then hopped in with her.

Gloria and I had developed a love/hate relationship. She loved to insist my voice would be ready by opening night and that I’d be able to match Eli in our duet, and I hated to hear about, think about it or talk about it.

We were fighting a stubborn battle of wills. I clung to my lack of natural talent, and she insisted all I lacked was
self confidence
and proper breath support.

Bullshit
.

“Where we going?” I asked naively. I should have known better than to underestimate her.

“Did you warm up to the tape I gave you on your drive here?”

“Yeah.” I buckled my seatbelt.

“Great. We’re on our way to the Middleton Nursing Home for your first official vocal performance.” My evil master had the gall to smile as she pulled away from the safety of my getaway car.

“What? We can’t do that!” My stomach clenched into a tight ball.

“Why not?”

“First off, you didn’t tell me!” She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“I just did,” Gloria said.

“But I’m not prepared. I’m not ready!”

“You’re not ready to perform center stage at the Overture Center, but you are perfectly prepared for the senior residents at a nursing home.”

My palms began to sweat and my eyes searched the car for an eject button.

Gloria placed her hand on my arm. “You’ll be just fine. These people are very old and most are hard of hearing. They’ll either ignore you or be tickled silly to see a young person.”

It turned out she was right. The nursing home residents were lined up in their wheelchairs or seated with their walkers nearby. Many dozed or didn’t seem with-it enough to know what was going on. A few others smiled at me with cute old wrinkled faces.

The director of the home introduced me. “This evening we are excited to have Willow Thomas here to sing a couple songs for you. She will be performing in a new musical at the Overture Center in a couple weeks.” The director clapped her hands and a few residents joined in. An old man snored loudly.

I grimaced and looked to Gloria who sat behind the piano and began the intro. I locked eyes with her to gain every ounce of strength I could. She mouthed the word “breathe.” I took a last fortifying breath and sang. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t horrible. Most of the patients looked bored, but some nodded their heads to the beat. One little old lady clapped offbeat the whole time.

Afterward, I thanked them, grabbed my coat and high-tailed it out before Gloria could make me sing any more.

“You did a nice job in there,” she said.

“You think so?” I didn’t, but her support meant the world to me.

“Absolutely. You see how nervous you were at the start, and by the end your knee knocking was barely visible.”

“You’re right. I guess that was a good exercise.” Despite my nerves, a glimmer of hope eked through.

“However, you need to concentrate on your breath support. You’ll feel stronger and it will help you hit the high notes with more confidence and power.”

Of course, she couldn’t let me have that small glimmer of joy.

My drive home from Gloria’s was slow. All day a steady fall of snow came down and the cars on the highway crawled along. A thick blanket of snow turned the neighborhood into an old-fashioned Christmas card. At least three inches of snow had accumulated on the streets and sidewalks. The forecast predicted more overnight. Mom, Dad and Breezy left for Vermont yesterday to see Grandma, so that meant I’d be the one shoveling tomorrow morning.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, a swirl of snow surrounded me. My shoes and the bottom of my jeans were immediately coated.
Another bad day to wear flats.

Anxious to check on Twinkie I rushed up the slippery porch steps. Once inside, I noticed the coat rack lay on the floor. In the hall, a tall floor vase lay toppled with the dried curly willow stems splayed across the floor.

At first I thought someone had broken in, but then I noticed the money Mom and Dad left for me on the coffee table next to my iPod. A burglar wouldn’t ignore eighty dollars. Just in case, I grabbed an umbrella for self defense. I figured I was safe, but you never know. Better safe than attacked by a criminal hiding in the closet.

“Twinkie?” I called out in my loudest whisper.

Nothing.

I walked through the living room with my
spoked
weapon.

No dog.

I checked the dining room and kitchen.

No dog.

Now I was getting more worried about Twinkie than an attacker. Was she okay? Was I going to find her dead?