Page 65 of Forgotten Pieces

Okay the exclamations may have been too much.

Ryder: Good news, I presume?

Tacoma: Fifteen minutes

It’s still early March and still freezing outside so I doubt anyone will be at the lake.

I rush out of the house without saying anything to my brother and rush over to our spot.

I bounce up and down excitedly as I see Ryder walk through the clearing. A smile spreads across his face when he sees my excitement. We haven’t talked since that awkward moment we had last week. I think he wanted to kiss me. But I can’t be sure. And his radio silence this last week hasn’t helped. But seeing him now, I don’t care about what happened last week. I just want his company.

I whip the paper back and forth in the air as he approaches. He grabs it out of my hand and reads it. When he looks up at me, his eyes are pooling with joy. “You did it.”

“I did it! I got in.”

He wraps his arms around me and gives me a fierce hug. “I am proud of you, Tacoma,” he whispers in my ear. “You are gonna fly away from here just like you have always wanted. My birdie.”

A shiver slips down my spine at his words, at his closeness, but he pulls away quicker than I want.

“You know I never asked you what you planned to major in,” he says as he grabs the blanket out of my bag along with the glasses. He pours whiskey into each of them then hands me a glass as he holds up his, “Cheers.”

I clink his glass and take a sip. “I’m not sure. I mean I have this stupid dream, the reason I want to go to New York. But it’s not realistic.”

“What’s that?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink.

I throw back the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the rock. I wring my hands together, waiting for the liquid courage to kick in. I haven’t told anyone about this stupid pipe dream I have, not even Laney. I don’t know why I am telling Ryder. “I want to be on Broadway,” I mumble out.

Ryder spits his drink out laughing. “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you say Broadway?”

“Ughh see I know it’s stupid.” I turn around and walk toward the lake, but Ryder grabs my arm.

“It’s not stupid. I shouldn’t have laughed. But you’re a cheerleader, the epitome of the popular girl. You don’t seem the type to want to be a drama nerd.”

I pull away from him and pick up a rock to skim across the lake. “Because I didn’t think I would fit in with the drama kids. I’ve always been the popular girl. Not really by choice.”

“Have you ever taken a drama class?”

I nod, keeping my back to him. “I did. Sophomore year. It was my favorite of all the classes I’ve taken.”

“And is that what you want to do at NYU? Drama?”

I finally turn and face him. “Musical theatre. But maybe as a minor. I should probably do something more reliable for a major.”

“Do you sing?”

I nod.

He crosses his arms in front of him. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“What?” I look at him baffled.

“Sing, go ahead.” He gestures toward me.

“I—ugh—I’ve never sang in front of anyone. Just in the car.”

He grins at me. “Well, if you want to make it on Broadway, you are going to have to sing in front of people.”

I push him. “Duh.”

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