When she sat back and blew out her breath, she felt weightless, as light as air, capable of soaring into the sky like a bunch of balloons. Her heart was pounding, exhilaration coursing through her veins. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Emily watched her warily. “Did you get it?”
“I got it.”
“Even the stuff you forgot?”
“Even that.” She skimmed through a couple of pages in her notebook, felt a couple more puzzle pieces slot into place. The block was gone. It was all there, waiting for her to open to it.
“Good. I’m sorry.” Emily’s voice was small, her shoulders hunched inside the fleece sweatshirt. “I’m just really, really scared.”
“Of what?”
Em huffed, then reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “Of sending in something that sucks. Just the application is intimidating. What if they laugh at it? What if I get in and I’m the worst student they’ve ever had and everyone laughs at me?”
“Sweetie, just do what you do. They’re not going to laugh at your application. I’m getting texts from all my friends asking how they can get one of your coats.”
“Really?”
“Yes, because they’re fashion-savvy people who know when something’s going to go big. You should stop watching Buffy reruns you’ve seen a dozen times and start figuring out who you want wearing one of your coats next fall, when you’re in New York City, at Parsons.”
“I’m afraid I’m always going to be in your shadow.” She sniffed again, but the worst of the crying seemed to have passed. “You even got the cool stage name. Maud.”
“I’m not sure how much longer Maud will exist. Even if she sticks around, I’m just your sister.” Cady stroked her hair, gathering the strands away from Emily’s face. “I’m just mom’s daughter. That’s what being Cady means to me. Being Maud is great, but my family defines who I am, not stage names or hit counts or chart rankings. That hasn’t changed because I’m more famous than I was last year, and I hope it won’t change when the inevitable happens and people move on to another sound, another musician. Maybe you’ll be the famous one then.”
“Ha.” Emily tossed the tissue on the floor and reached for another. “Like I’ll ever be more famous than you.”
“You could be. If I don’t drop the label’s record, I could fade away into obscurity. I’ll be a thirty-second cut on some Where Are They Now? show, working at Ruby Tuesdays and singing on street corners again.”
“That will never happen,” Emily said with the assurance of a teenage girl.
“It could.” Cady spoke with the assurance of a woman who’d lain awake nights, worrying about it. “Em, everyone’s got me on the up-and-coming superstar pedestal right now. Please don’t put me up there, too. It’s a long way down when I fall, and I need somewhere soft to land.”
Emily toyed with the bracelet. “You’re working on new material. I’m working on my application. We both need this right now.”
“We can trade it back and forth. But I really think I’m going to be fine without it.”
Emily’s face crumpled, and her chin quivered before collapsing into tears again. Cady sighed. “Stop crying. Put your Uggs on. We’re going back to the house for my guitar, and then we’re getting hot fudge sundaes at DQ. How about if I spend the night, and we can work on your application and my song?”
Emily smiled. “Sounds great.”
Cady sent her into the bathroom to wash her face. Emily sat quietly in the passenger seat during the drive, her phone in her hand as she stared out the window. Cady didn’t push things. It would take time to repair the damage she’d caused, but sisters were forever.
The driveway was empty when they arrived, the sound of their car doors closing echoing in the garage. “Hello?” Cady called.
She toed out of her boots in the mudroom, ears cocked for a response. The house was suspiciously quiet as she padded past the dining room table to the kitchen. The only light on was the stove light. “Conn?”
“I don’t think he’s here,” Emily said.
Cady peered into his bedroom. His duffle bag was gone from the floor, the bed neatly made, the drawers closed, the hangers in the closet pushed to the side.
“There’s a note taped to your steamer,” Em yelled from the kitchen. She held it out to Cady as she approached.
I took down the cameras. Sorry. Conn
Cady’s jaw dropped open.
“What cameras?” Emily said.
“He installed security cameras. That’s how I knew it was you.”
Emily’s brow wrinkled. “You said you didn’t want security cameras. That’s why we didn’t have the contractor install them when the house was being built.”