Page 10 of Perfect Pitch

I’ve memorized the words. “When you’re eighteen, you can ask me anything you want—including his name. Until then, I’ll just say this. He won’t be back in our lives.”

“When did you ask her?”

“When I was fifteen.”

“And you don’t think perhaps your mama was trying to protect you?”

“I know she was. Then. But now?”

“You asked her recently.” Understanding hits Fallon’s face.

I nod before bitterness seeps out, “Last night. She reminded me she’d tell me when I was of legal age, not before then. Like one year’s going to make a difference.”

Somberly, Fallon reaches for a tabloid magazine and holds it up. On the cover is an accusation of famous rock star Beckett Miller being in the middle of a custody battle between Mick Ceron and Carly Stolliday—his bandmates. “Maybe she understands this town better than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your family founded this town, Austyn. That’s why you have catty little no ones like Sybil and Mercy trying to rile you up.”

I growl thinking of the years of taunting I’ve handled without breaking. Soon, I’ll be able to escape, I console myself.

Fallon makes a great point. “Amplify that by the amount of gossip that would swirl around if your mother admitted to who your father is all these years? Beckett Miller and the ilk wouldn’t even be a topic of conversation around grocery store lines for months, that’s how woven your family is in this community.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“No, give your mother that,” she immediately tosses back. For a moment, shame washes over me that it’s my best friend defending my mother instead of me.

I lean back so my shoulders are balanced by the seats above me. “I’m just so tired of being judged by my parentage—or lack thereof.”

“Then maybe it’s time for you to focus on what matters to you, ma petit oiseau chanteur.”

My little songbird. I smile at the name. “Yeah, like what?”

“You tell me.”

Suddenly an idea so delicious comes to mind I can’t help but share it. “You know the one thing Mercy didn’t mention about the father/daughter dance?”

“I tuned her ass out, Austyn. What?”

“Music. I wonder if she forgot the music.”

Fallon’s eyes widen comically before she falls sideways laughing. “Wouldn’t that be just like her.”

I whip out my phone and send a quick text to Mercy asking her. Within seconds, I get a response.

Mercy:

O-M-GEEEEEEE! Austyn! What am I going to do?

Austyn:

I have an idea. Let’s meet after school at the gazebo in the town center to talk about it.

Mercy:

You’re a lifesaver!

“So, what’s your plan?”

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