“I make a mean bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” I say, even though my repertoire is a little more advanced than that. No way am I going to spend my time cooking for Joe.
It’s after midnight, and my legs are feeling fatigued by the time Marta leads me to the second floor of the east wing.
“This is your private area of the house,” Marta says. “You’ll have your own family room with a television, and there are three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, but we thought you might like this one best, as it looks out on the pool.” She opens a door and flips on the light of my new bedroom. It’s also decorated in mostly white furniture, with pops of teal in the plethora of throw pillows on the plush, tufted duvet of the canopy bed. More teal pillows crowd the white, tufted sofa. I even have my own crystal chandelier. A gilded mirror hangs over a glossy vanity table, and a floating white shelf, which spans the length of one of the walls, is jam-packed with stuffed animals with various shades of white fur.
“Joe had his designer do this room up just for you.”
“It’s … um … nice.” I frown at the white teddy bears staring down at me. “Joe realizes I’m not a six-year-old, right?”
Marta makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh. “Joe does have a tendency to go a little overboard.”
A MacBook computer sits on a white desk in front of a large window. I pull back the gauzy drapes and look into the backyard. Where this house has an advantage over my mother’s bungalow in hugeness, it pales in comparison when it comes to yard. We have almost an acre of land in Ellis behind the shop, where my mom can fit her greenhouse and a barn for taking care of the various animals she brings home. Here, the yard comprises a stone patio, a long, skinny lap pool, and a narrow strip of grass. The almost equally ginormous house behind Joe’s feels like it’s only a few yards away.
I yawn. The fatigue of what must be the longest day of my life pulls me toward the very girly—yet admittedly comfy-looking—bed. I sink into the mountain of pillows.
“I’ll let you rest now,” Marta says curtly. “I would give you a tour of the community tomorrow, but I have another pressing matter that will take me away for the day. I will leave a map and a detailed itinerary outside your door by six a.m. Your audition is at three thirty p.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
I sit up fast. “My audition?”
“For the music program at Olympus Hills High. Joe was able to pull a few strings to get you into the school, but if you want to be on the music track, you must audition for the program. You are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”
“So soon?” The tiredness I’d felt only seconds ago is gone. I should have realized that there would be an audition right away, but I am wholly unprepared. I didn’t pack any of my sheet music, leaving it behind for Jonathan to send later. I haven’t done any research on what kind of music the director of the program prefers. I don’t know if any of my three outfits are fit for auditioning at a private school.
I take two deep breaths and tell myself not to freak out. I’d already prepared a song for the Teen Talent Competition that I had planned on attending this evening. I am ready for this.…
“The other students in the program auditioned at the end of last year, and school has been in session for almost three weeks. If it hadn’t been for a sudden opening in the program, you wouldn’t be getting the chance at all. Mr. Morgan is holding preliminary auditions for this year’s musical tomorrow. He said he would allow you to audition for the program and the play at the same time. You are supposed to prepare three songs.”
Three? I’d spent all month perfecting my one song for the competition! “What play are they doing?” Hopefully, it was something I already knew a couple of songs from. Les Misérables. Carousel. Seeing this town’s apparent love for all things Greek, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mamma Mia!
“He wouldn’t say. It’s supposed to be three songs of your own choosing.”
“But I have no idea what else to sing.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Sing a few of your father’s songs,” Marta says, like it’s a definitive solution to all my problems.
“Not in a million years,” I mumble as she leaves and closes the door behind her. I can hear the click of her heels on the marble floor echoing as she goes. Now that I am alone, my new room feels too cavernous for comfort. I want to call home, but it’s far too late at night. My mother would have a heart attack, thinking there had been some emergency.
I push the throw pillows off the bed. Not a big deal? This audition is the big deal. This music program is the entire reason I’d left home. It is my entire purpose for being here. All my future plans rest on it, and now the audition is being sprung on me before I am ready.
What if this has all been for nothing?
For the first time since I agreed to let Joe take me away from my home, I start to wonder if I’ve made a really big mistake.
chapter seven
HADEN