Page 37 of Rock and a Hard Place

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and enjoy the dance?” Miss Orman urged again, their earlier excitement long faded.

“No. I’ll wait here.” Libby refused to go into the gym with the other kids. When Peter arrived, she needed to be the first to lay eyes on him. No way would she miss the moment by standing alone in the darkened, Hollywood-themed gym.

“He must have had car trouble,” her counselor offered.

Concern, even pity etched Miss Orman’s face.

“Yeah, probably. Maybe a flat tire.” Libby nodded with her lips pinched with worry.

Something had obviously happened. Everything seemed fine when they talked two hours earlier. If a swarm of fans was the holdup, she swore she’d strangle them all. Peter belonged to her tonight and no one else.

She paced the long hallway again, the click of her ill-fitted heels echoed with each step. She lowered herself onto a bench and checked her phone yet again for messages.

No power.

She’d been distracted all day and forgot to recharge it. Her only connection to Peter lay useless in her hand. Unfortunately, her phone charger was hidden behind books on a shelf in her room. She couldn’t charge her phone without going back to the house, and then Aunt Marge would never let her out again. It was a big enough battle to leave the first time. She knew Miss Orman’s was plugged into her kitchen outlet at her apartment.

Two girls in slinky, sequined dresses walked out of the bathroom and meandered down the hall. They eyed Libby. “Why’s she sitting there alone?” the tall girl who wore super high heels asked.

“I think her date stood her up,” replied the other with bright lipstick.

“I would totally die if that happened to me,” said the girl, wobbling on her heels.

Libby slouched against the wall. Her once-beautiful curls drooped against her shoulders. Their words hit hard, but they were right. He wasn’t coming. She knew it in her gut. Their perfect night, ruined. Peter would not show.

Tonight, she had planned to prove she was just like everyone else, even better. Instead, they would all witness her lonely wait for a boy who never arrived. Miss Orman’s pity would be the worst. She’d probably call in a shrink on Monday to find out why Libby had invented Peter.

As more kids walked down the hall toward the restrooms, Libby exited through the double doors and stepped into the brisk night. Even though she felt certain Peter wouldn’t show, she continued her vigil and prayed he was okay.

What could possibly keep him away when he was so close? A traffic jam? Not likely. Weather? He’d already landed, and the weather was fine, cold and windy, but nothing to stop traffic. A car accident? She shivered at the thought. Please let him be okay.

She checked her phone again. It didn’t magically power on. She returned it to her handbag, next to her lip gloss and two tickets for the dance. She pulled out the beautifully printed tickets with the school emblem pressed into the shiny paper.

“Oh, Peter,” she breathed, the wind cold on her skin.

Something was very, very wrong.

13

“Excuse me, are you Peter Jamieson?” asked an airline employee.

“Yeah, I’m Peter Jamieson,” he answered slowly, a bad feeling creeping over him. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but there’s been a medical emergency back in Los Angeles. Your mother called and asked us to locate you. You need to return to LA as quickly as possible.”

“What happened? Who is it?” Panic hit him full on. He searched Roger’s face for information neither of them had.

“Is it my mom? Is she okay?” Peter stood, oblivious to the dozens of curious passengers in the terminal. The only reason his mom would make him come home was if something terrible happened.

“I’m sorry to tell you that your father suffered a heart attack. I believe he’s in the emergency room at Cedars Sinai.”

Peter’s world fell away. His dad. The man who pushed him to be his best. He couldn’t be sick; he was the rock of their family. Peter looked to Roger for support, terrified for his father’s life.

“How soon can we get out of here?” Roger said, taking control.

“We’re holding a plane that’s headed to Denver. Then you’ll transfer to LA. You can board now.”

“Let’s go,” Peter responded. “I’m calling Garrett.”

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