Page 89 of You're the Reason

Jon just shook his head, dropped the pill back in the baggie, and marched out the door.

The support? The friendships? People in his corner? Had none of it been real?

No, Grace had been real. Hadn’t she? He lifted his broken phone to check the voicemails. One was from his mom. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut, and he pressed play.

“Sethy, I found something to tide me over.” Her tone seemed way more relaxed than when she’d texted him earlier. That explained the relaxed state. He was ready to delete when she continued. “I’m close to Heritage. I am coming to see you, baby.”

She what? Seth checked the timestamp. It was thirty minutes ago. It could be a lie like before. But there was something in her tone that made him believe it was the real deal. He pulled up the Find My Phone app, praying hers would still show up. It should, considering he paid the bill.

The blue dot appeared, but the map took longer to load. When the words Henderson Road appeared, his heart dropped in his gut. No. The rest of the familiar town streets loaded, just as a commotion came from outside his window.

Her blue dot had stopped... in the middle of the square.

He rushed over and peered into the darkness. A car had just driven over the curb and into a booth in the square, its headlights illuminating the white material that had been covering the booth. Luckily it seemed to have missed the schoolhouse.

Seth dropped his phone and sprinted down the stairs and across the street toward the vehicle. The driver’s door was open, the engine was still running, and the radio was blaring Chicago’s “Hard Habit to Break” into the empty square. Empty of people at least. Could this night get any worse?

Seth leaned forward with his hands on his knees. He swore he hadn’t taken even a full minute to get from his apartment to here, but the car was empty and the driver, who he’d bet was his mother, was nowhere in sight. He straightened, still gasping for air as he shielded his eyes from the streetlight and squinted into the night, searching. He came up empty. It wasn’t like he could see much in the dark. At least everybody else seemed to be inside already.

Hurrying over to the crushed booth that had been reduced to broken PVC pipe and torn white sheets, he scanned the area. There was no broken inventory, so hopefully that meant the owner had packed up for the night, but that table would never be the same again. He pulled the bent structure from the hood of the car and tossed it aside then climbed into the driver’s seat and threw it into reverse. The worn suspension squeaked in protest as each tire dropped off of the curb, but the car didn’t seem to have any real damage.

He pulled along the curb across from the studio, then closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. This would be ok. Hopefully, there wasn’t too much damage to the grass, but he’d have to get up early and help them fix the booth before the last day of the festival started. But first he still needed to find his mom. He had just cut the engine when there was a tap on the passenger window.

Seth looked over into the face of Officer Hammond. No doubt someone had called this in. He made a motion for him to roll down the window. Seth hit the button.

Seth blinked as Officer Hammond shone his flashlight in the window, but he kept his hands on the wheel.

“Hello, Seth.” The man moved the beam around as if searching the vehicle. The shaft of light stopped on the floor of the passenger seat and Seth nearly threw up. Pills, powders, and various other drug paraphernalia, all laid out for all the world to see. Right next to the open empty cash box.

“It’s not mine.” That’s all he got out before Officer Hammond asked him to step out of the car. He released a sigh. It might be a new record, but it was the same song. He had the right to remain silent. And he had a feeling everything in this car could and would be used against him in a court of law.

Seth tried to resist the overpowering urge to scream as loud as he could. The unfairness of it all was beyond comprehension. He’d faced the ultimate temptation on one of the worst days ever, and he had succeeded, but no one would believe him. His tangible future seemed to crumble right before his eyes.

Seth stepped out of the car and assumed the position. He knew the routine. Miranda Rights. A pat down. Handcuffs. And a phone call. Only who would he call? Jon? Who had caught him with an empty bag in his room? And with his truth bomb back there, Seth now knew that no one else really believed in him either. Even Grant didn’t truly trust him. That one hurt most of all.

Their doubts, combined with the missing money and about four grand of drugs in the car all added up to one thing.

Seth was guilty until proven innocent.

sixteen

Seth had been mad, but Grace had never expected him to ghost her last night. She tied her left pointe shoe, then stood and walked over to the speaker and connected her phone. At the very least she expected he’d show up for today’s performance. But everyone was set to meet at the gazebo in an hour and still nothing. She opened the Spotify app, then closed it and tried his phone one more time. As it rang, the familiar “Dancing Queen” ringtone could be heard faintly from above her.

He was here. He was just up those stairs and still not answering. Grace lowered her phone, not even bothering to leave a voicemail this time. Maybe he was punishing her. She had pretty much kicked him out to talk to her parents, but he had to understand that they couldn’t be reasoned with while he was there. She’d thought he’d been different from her parents, but maybe there wasn’t different. Love came with high expectations—always.

The front door rattled, and she turned to it with a forced smile. But it wasn’t one of her students. Her parents stood on the steps, all smiles. Had they come to watch?

Grace only hesitated a second before she walked over and unlocked the deadbolt.

As soon as it was unlocked, her mother turned the knob and walked in. “You need to reconsider going to Chicago today. If you want your chance, you need to do all you can.”

“I can’t.” Grace glanced at her phone which was still in her hand. “I have a show at ten.”

“This isn’t a show. It’s barely a recital. Your students will understand. This is your shot to return as Giselle, not to mention to prove you’re ready for the summer show. But we have to leave right now.” Her mother picked up her bag and handed it to her. “I have food for you in the car along with a pair of backup pointe shoes.”

“You have a pair of my pointe shoes?” It was high school all over again. No wonder she’d agreed to go to Europe. All her dance decisions filtered through her parents.

“I stopped by Margret Bunting’s house, and she helped us find what you need.”

---