Page 5 of The Devil Wears Tartan

CHAPTER 2

KENZIE

I can feel Catherine’s eyes shooting daggers into my back as I speed-walk out of the warm-up gym, but I don’t turn around. I’m supposed to be making sure our last group of dancers competing before the lunch break are all lined up and ready to get escorted to the stage, but my mom’s name showed up on my phone.

She shouldn’t be calling me. She should be walking into her appointment right now.

“What is it?” I ask as soon as I’ve brought the phone to my ear in the hallway. “Are you all right?”

There are some parents and dancers hanging around out here, so I head farther into the school, ducking into a water fountain alcove when I spot a gap in the lockers lining the walls.

“I just don’t think I can do it, Zee-zee. I thought I could do it on my own, but I can’t.”

I try not to sigh. I hoped she could do it, but part of me knew it was too good to be true.

“It’s not far from the competition,” she adds before I have a chance to answer. “You could come over, and we could go in together. I just hate walking into that place. I just need someone to go through the doors with me, and then you could leave.”

I think about it. I seriously think about it. The bus would take too long. I don’t really have the money to spare, but I could order an Uber.

I could also have Catherine subsequently murder me. Lunch break isn’t really a break when you’re a teacher; it’s a chance to placate all the paranoid, Dance Moms-esque parents who think the judges are out to get their child, all while ensuring the students eat enough and get through their outfit change in time for the next set of dances.

“I don’t know, Mom,” I say as I fidget with the dark blue sleeve of my tracksuit. “I don’t think I can get away. I have to—”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry I asked. I can just go home. I can try again some other day.”

Blood rushes in my ears as I grip the phone extra tight. It took months to get her to agree to make an appointment and another month before we could actually get her a spot with the psychiatrist. She can’t walk away today. She just can’t.

The depression can’t get worse again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting to keep my own panic at bay while I handle hers.

“Are you in the parking lot?” I ask.

I hear her take a few sharp, short breaths. “Yes. The car barely made it, but I’m here. I don’t think they really fixed it at that garage.”

I wince. The rusty old Subaru should have been headed for the junkyard years ago, but we can’t afford anything new.

We also can’t afford any more repairs.

I take a few breaths of my own, doing my best to keep them slow and even. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll stay on the phone with you while you go inside. I know it’s not the best solution, but it’s all we’ve got for today. Just remember this is a good thing, okay? New meds are going to help.”

“I know, I know. You’re right.” I hear some shuffling like she’s moving around in her seat. “Okay, I’m getting out of the car now.”

The distant drone of bagpipes from the auditorium echoes down the hall. I’ve definitely missed getting my dancers ready by now, and Catherine is going to lecture me about having to handle it herself. I keep my eyes closed and focus on my mom’s breathing in my ear as she crosses the parking lot.

“Oh god, it’s just so embarrassing,” she mutters. “Anyone could see me going in here. I’m sorry I called. I shouldn’t have called. It’s just so...so...”

“Mom, it’s okay.”

I tighten my grip on the phone as my eyes start stinging no matter how fast I blink. I swipe at the corners with my sleeve, focusing on the chipped white bowl of the water fountain beside me as everything starts to get blurry.

“Okay, I’m opening the door.” There are more shuffling noises, and then I hear her calling out to a receptionist. “Yes, hi! Hello! One moment.”

My throat has gone all thick, and I have to swallow before I speak. “All good now?”

“Yes. It’s...oh, I hate it here.” I can picture her shudder as she says it. “Thank you, baby. You’re an angel. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” I murmur as I give my cheeks another few rough swipes. “See you soon.”

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