Page 23 of August Lane
“It probably is. But people love shows like that. You should audition.”
Luke scrubbed the dishes to give him time to think of a gentle way to remind his brother that he was Black. Those producers would laugh him out of the building. And even if they didn’t, filming would probably take months. He felt guilty whenever he left Ethan alone with Ava for twenty-four hours.
“I’m not built for TV,” Luke said, which was true. All those cameras pointed at you. All those lights. “I can play around here.”
“Where? Delta Blue?” Ethan’s voice hardened when he mentioned the local bar. “You should stay away from that place.”
“Because of Silas King?” Luke heard stories about August’s uncle but had always questioned whether they were true. He couldn’t believe some big-time criminal would settle in a town with a single gas station. “I’ve never met him.”
“Not because of him. Because of the drinking,” Ethan said. “You don’t know how to stop.”
Luke said, “Yes, I do.” But it didn’t sound as convincing as he would have liked. He glanced at the clock, grateful to see the late hour. “Go get dressed for school.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, slid from the chair, and shuffled to his room. Luke busied himself emptying the trash, which had been neglected for days. The top was covered with his empty beer cans. This must have been what Ethan had seen when he walked into the kitchen that morning. Luke usually counted, sometimes with little tally marks on napkins, to make it easier to keep track of how many he’d had. Last night had been different. It got away from him.
It had been three days since August lost her notebook of song lyrics. Three days of retracing her steps in an escalating panic, bracing for the public humiliation that whoever found it would unleash at any moment. The worry had worn on her so much that she could barely hide her misery from her grandmother.
“You study for that test?” Birdie asked while adding five lumps ofsugar and half a pint of cream to her coffee. She studied August with concern, somehow frowning without creasing her preternaturally smooth skin. She was terrified of getting wrinkles and being identified as the grandmother she was.
“Of course.” August watched Birdie slurp down what she’d effectively turned into dessert.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you ready?”
To fail? Absolutely. She’d been too distracted by her notebook to memorize any chemistry formulas besides water. “As ready as I can be.”
Birdie motioned for August to stand. “Let me look at you.”
August took her time standing, a silent protest of the daily ritual. Birdie refused to let her leave the house without inspection. August wore jeans and a striped top, but something about it made Birdie pause.
“That shirt’s a little tight.”
August rounded her shoulders and folded her arms over her stomach. “It’s fine.”
“Is it the right size?” Birdie walked around the table to look at the tag. It was a large, the size she’d insisted August buy, even though they were too big for her. The shirt wasn’t the problem. It was how her body looked in the shirt, particularly her breasts, which had only recently stopped growing. Bands of thick black stripes made them more noticeable.
“Go change.”
August didn’t move. “I’ll be late.”
“Excuse me?” Birdie raised her eyebrows and pointed to the bedroom. “Pick a different top.”
And that was that. August changed into the baggiest T-shirt she could find because arguing with her grandmother was like being sucked into a black hole. Boundless and soul crushing, circular in ways that made you lose any hope of escape.
She returned to the kitchen and did a slow, mocking turn for Birdie’s benefit. “Do I look respectable now?”
Birdie smoothed August’s hair behind her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be smart.”
August made it to school with only a few minutes to spare. People stared at her as she climbed the front steps, but she was used to it now. The key was to avoid eye contact while glaring at the walls like someone had already pissed you off.
She was relieved to see Mavis near her locker. But then her cousin was joined by a group of her volleyball teammates, one of whom was Richard’s ex-girlfriend. Mari Stanfield glared at August and whispered something to her friends before bursting into tears. They all converged, rubbing her back while shooting August dirty looks.
The bell rang. August tried to duck into her classroom but slammed into the tall wall of Luke Randall instead.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her waist to steady her and flashed that crooked smile she hated. It looked like flirting. It felt like a finger sliding down her back. August tried to right herself and stumbled, which only made him tighten his grip. The smile became a furrow of concern. “I got you.”
