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It comes round way too fast, and every step down from the stage feels like quicksand.

“Great set,” Trey says as he approaches, his silver and blue headphones in hand. “You sure you don’t want to kick things off after dinner?”

I shake my head. “I’m sure. I need to go check on Aldo. He’s sick.”

“Oh no, that sucks.” Trey wrinkles his nose. “Careful you don’t catch it.”

“I’ll try.” I smile and go to walk away, then remember. “Oh, Trey? Could you let Wes or Sol know when you see them that Aldo’s not here? He’s part of the auction thing they’re doing.”

“Sure thing.” Trey gives me a thumbs up and jogs up the stairs to get set up, leaving me no choice but to face the music. Absolutely no pun intended.

“Joy!” My mom’s voice carries over the chatter of the assembled guests and I try not to wince as I approach the table.

I paste a smile on my face and accept the kiss she plants on my cheek, as if she didn’t hang up on me the last time I saw her. “Hi, Mom.”

“You look beautiful, kiddo,” Dad says, pulling me into a hug against his expensive tux.

My cheeks warm as I step back. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anyone would think you were hiding from us.” Mom stares at me, her dark eyes narrowed. She’s wearing a midnight-blue gown that hugs her athletic figure like a second skin, her hair up in a style very similar to mine.

I gesture over my shoulder. “I was on stage. It’s hardly hiding.”

Mom’s eyes narrow further, but she just makes a huffing noise through her nose and drops it. “I’m not surprised you wanted to avoid us. It was a disappointing end to the season.”

“The team is dealing with a lot,” I say tightly, bristling at her tone. Clearly, we’re not going to discuss my DJing. My grip tightens on my headphones and I’m not sure if I’m relieved.

“Yes. Scandalous.” She lifts her chin, her lip curling slightly. “Both coaches fired. It’s for the best, though. It’s a shame it didn’t happen years ago.”

“Emi,” Dad warns.

“What?” She scoffs. “Maybe if they’d spent more time focusing on the sport and less time focusing on . . . other things . . . they might have been more successful.”

A chill races over my skin. Franklin West has informed parents that the Coaches won’t be returning but they certainly didn’t announce that they’d been fired. I think the phrasing was, ‘Pursuing new endeavors’.

I place my headphones down on the table and take a step closer, my hands suddenly clammy. “What do you mean, ‘other things’, Mom?”

She glances around the room, her eyes narrowing. “Keep your voice down.”

“Tell me what you mean,” I persist.

Mom stares at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, but I stare right back. There’s no way in hell I’m backing down on this.

“Roger,” she says, her eyes not leaving mine. “Joy and I are going to go and get some fresh air. Be a darling and get us some drinks?”

Dad lets loose a breath that makes me think he wants to argue, but after a pause, he moves away, leaving me and Mom to our staring competition.

“Are you going to tell me?” I ask, taking a small step closer.

Mom exhales sharply through her nose and lifts her chin. “Outside.”

Frustration shoots through my limbs like static as I follow her winding path through the tables toward the large open doors leading out to the common. It’s quiet outside as the appetizers are being served, and as soon as we’re alone, I turn to her, but she speaks first.

“I know you were involved with Lane.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“When I found out he’d gotten a job at Franklin West, I just knew he’d find a way to weasel his way back into your life.” Her delicate nose wrinkles as though she’s smelling something bad. “He was a distraction for you before and he became a distraction for you again. The second he comes back, you quit swimming.”

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