Page 38 of Fake It Till You Break It
I couldn’t concentrate on my classes all day—although Idoubt anyone could get through Mrs. Collins’s lecture on the different points of limits. I swear, a part of me dies every time I step into calculus.
It started off as doodling, but before I knew it, lyrics came pouring out of me. Even faster than I could write them. Greg was right when he said that I hadn’t written anything new in ages. Didn’t feel the need to. I thought that part of me was gone. But this was different.
I was actually working on it before Rose and Greg came over and must have forgotten to put it away.
“Wait, how did you even know about this song?” Greg suddenly asked, turning to his sister.
“Please, like you two could ever hide anything from me. I’m a snoop,” she said blankly without a hint of shame. “I know everything.”
Greg scoffed. “Not everything.”
“The second bottom drawer of the left side of your desk is fake.” She paused and cocked her head to the right. “Actually, all three of the drawers on that side have a false bottom, but the second one is the most important one.”
I turned to Greg. “What’s in your second drawer?”
His ears turned a bright red. “No—nothing. There’s nothing there. You know Rose. She’s crazy. Especially in the beginning of the week. All that coffee,” he rambled, glancing around the room like an escaped convict, tossing the sheets at me. “Iforgot I have to go home and do something for my mom. Like right now.” Greg glared at Rose as he backed out of the room. “And you can find your own ride home.”
After he stomped down the stairs, I glanced over at Rose. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“Nah, Greg will drive me.”
“But he just said…”
With a smirk, Rose whipped a ring of keys out of her pocket. The Slytherin key chain I got her from Harry Potter World two years ago dangled on the end. “He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but luckily for him, he’s blood so I’m forced to love him.”
I shook my head. “I should send my condolences to Greg for having a sister like you.”
“You should be glad you’re an only child.” Her face paled. “I didn’t mean… I know Finn is…”
“I know what you meant.”
“I should go before Greg bursts an artery or something. If you really work hard, then you could probably have that song ready for the festival,” she called out over her shoulder.
“I never said I was… never mind.” She was barely listening to me anyway. She and Greg were already arguing as they thundered down the stairs.
Appearing at my doorway a few minutes later, Mom shook her head in disbelief. “Seriously, those two are so loud, I don’t know how their parents can stand it.”
“Well, Mrs. Bell probably gets a discount on Advil at Costco so they’re fine. They’ll probably throw a party when they finally get rid of them after graduation, though.” Grabbing my keys from the nightstand, I shoved my feet in the loafers by my bed. “Are you ready to go?”
“Not yet. I still need to shower, but I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes?”
“Deal.”
On the third Saturday of each month, Mom and I would go out on a “date.” Not a creepy kind of date. Just hanging out outside the house. Sometimes dinner or a movie. Or both. We started the tradition after Finn left. Mom was mopey every day so I took her out. Even bought her flowers and chocolate, although Mia always ended up eating all the chocolate a few days later. And it cheered Mom up, so we went out again a few weeks later and the tradition stuck.
I didn’t mind, though. It made me happy to treat Mom every once in a while. Make her feel special. Greg called me a momma’s boy, but I didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing. That was the only reason I didn’t kick his ass. That and the fact that Rose would have kickedmyass afterward.
After we got our first plate of food at China Wall Buffet, Mom grabbed a fork and wiped it down with her napkin like Mrs. Le taught us ages ago. Just in case. “So I’m supposed to ask you about some music festival again? Rose mentioned it to me before they left.”
With a sigh, I shoved a couple of french fries in my mouth. “To be honest, I’m having second thoughts about it.”
Mom’s fork tapped on the side of her plate in a steady rhythm. “What’s there to think about? That’s awesome. You should definitely give it a shot.”
“I don’t know. I’m still debating—”
“Which means you’ve been obsessing about it for weeks.” She laughed and shook her head. “You think I don’t know you? I’ve been taking care of you since you were two. You overthink everything in life. Sometimes you just need to go for it. Do what you want. Without agonizing about the consequences.”
I picked up my pizza and put it down again without taking a bite. “But I wasn’t planning to pursue music again, so what’s the point of starting all this up?”
