Page 16 of The Last Love Song
Wiping her damp hands on her dark apron, Megan laughed. God, it had been a while since she could remember laughing about anything. Today, roaming around the green lawn of a beautiful old farmhouse might actually be kind of fun if she wasn’t hated by everyone under eighteen at this particular party.
“I agree.” How to put this? She bit her lip, hating to confess the rest of the news about her music. “But actually, even if you weren’t leaving town, I’d been planning to talk to you about canceling my lessons to save up for school. So I’m not only going to have to wait on the new guitar, but I won’t bother looking for a new teacher.” When she’d found out her father had canceled his health insurance two years ago for Megan’s lessons, she’d flipped out.
What if he got sick or had an accident or something?
Ms. Finley sighed. “You know, it’s natural to have a certain ebb and flow of interest when you take up an instrument, Megan. Especially when there are so many other things going on in a teenager’s life?—”
“No.” She shook her head. Unwilling to let Ms. Finley think she’d just grown bored with playing. “I promise, it’s nothing like that. I still practice every day. Ineedto play every day or else?—”
Distracted by one of the other servers hurrying past with a tray, she stopped short of confessing how crazy she felt when she didn’t have a creative outlet. Guitar seemed a lot more productive than killing mutant zombies in the video game.
“I’m the same way,” Ms. Finley surprised her by saying. “If I don’t get my time in—even if it’s just singing my heart out in theshower—I feel too bottled up inside. I don’t know what I’d do without my music.”
“Exactly.” Relieved she wasn’t the only one, Megan ignored the cell phone vibrating in her apron pocket. Her father knew her work schedule and who else called her these days? Ever since she broke up with J.D. and he’d started dating Bailey, she’d become social poison at Crestwood.
Which was so freaking unfair. Bailey was the one who had broken girl code by dating her friend’s ex. Why was Megan the one blacklisted? Probably because J. D. Covington was one of the most popular kids in school. And what J.D. wanted, he got. If that meant everyone had to like his girlfriend, that’s what people did.
“Well, I understand about the lessons. But if you have time and you’re practicing anyway, maybe we could keep our old lesson times right up until I leave town.” Ms. Finley shaded her pale skin from the direct sun as she squinted up at Megan. “My car is in the shop, so I’m not sure how soon I’ll be heading out. But it sounds like I’ll still be around tomorrow if you want to meet.”
“But I can’t pay?—”
“I need to practice, too. It’ll be a way for us both to stay sharp. I don’t want to go into my audition flat because I haven’t been rehearsing.”
She knew Ms. Finley planned to audition forAmerican Voice, but somehow Megan doubted her teacher needed to rehearse with a twelfth grader to hone her musical skills.
“Um. Sure. Okay. I should probably get back to work, though.” Megan’s phone buzzed again, making her antsy. Plus, her boss had already cornered one of the other servers to chew him out about something.
Megan didn’t want to be next.
“Of course.” Ms. Finley smiled. “We can take it on a day-by-day basis. I’ll text you in the morning to confirm tomorrow’s time, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Megan walked backward toward the party and her job. “And I really appreciate it.”
She might have been voted the senior class’s Most Antisocial in one of the school paper’s “humorous” categories, but she knew enough to thank a talented musician for offering to spend extra time with her.
“It’ll be good for us both.” Ms. Finley waved and then headed back to the main house.
Megan had no intention of going back under that canopy where all her classmates were hanging out, so she darted toward a row of overgrown honeysuckle bushes and tugged her phone out to see who’d been calling.
Or—as it happened—texting.
She didn’t recognize the number, but she’d gotten three messages in the last ten minutes, all from the same account.
You are such a slut. Have you checked your Facebook page?
The first message was nothing she hadn’t heard before. She guessed J.D. had started that particular rumor when she hadn’t proven as eager to please as his new girlfriend.
Then again, Megan knew better than to trust anything J.D., said so she didn’t necessarily believe the rumors going around about him and Bailey, either. As for the Facebook page, that’s where she’d received rude private messages. She had deleted her account, so there was nothing left to check.
She scrolled down to the next message.
Don’t you have anything better to do on a weekend than ruin everyone else’s good time?
Her eyes flicked to the canopy where five girls still draped themselves over throw pillows, their phones in hand. Had oneof them sent the texts? It must be someone at the wedding breakfast. Someone who had seen her spill the ice.
A shiver crawled up her spine despite the heat. Was this message from someone at the party? Or from the person who’d harassed her online earlier this summer?
Or…both?
