“Looks like I got here at the perfect time,” Chace remarks.
We follow the crowd to the buffet, where platters are heaped high with surf and turf, two different salads, and an array of sides. Just as we’re heading to one of the round tables decorating the foyer, Mom appears alongside our group. I feel myself stiffen.
“You must be Chace!” She extends a diamond-adorned hand to my boyfriend, who quickly turns to greet her.
“Thanks for having me, Congresswoman Rivera. My parents send their apologies. I was just telling Lana they had an incident come up with my grandmother that they had to take care of.”
Mom masks her disappointment well, but I feel a flicker of glee that she didn’t get her way this time. At least for one more night, she won’t be able to pry into the Porters’ business.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Mom purrs. “I hope your grandmother’s all right. I’ll have to call and check in tomorrow.”
To my surprise, my mom then turns to Nicole.
“Nicole, dear, Lana tells me you’re quite the star violinist. What are the chances you’d play a little something for the crowd during dinner? We’re giving the deejay a break, and instrumental is more appropriate for dinner, anyway, don’t you think?”
Nicole’s cheeks flame red. I feel a surge of mortification.
“Mom, don’t you see her plate? We were just about to eat.”
“After you’re done, of course,” Mom says breezily.
“That’s okay,” Nicole says. “I get too nervous to eat before any sort of performance. I can just play something now, if you’d like.”
“You don’t have to,” Chace says to Nicole under his breath. I can tell he didn’t mean for us to hear, but my mom’s sharp expression lets me know that she did.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs to Chace. “They’ve been so nice to me.”
For some reason I can’t understand, it hurts to see Chace being protective of my friend. I mean, he’s probably just being nice to her because she’s my friend. But then it hits me. In this moment, he’s more concerned about her than he is about me and my mom. Even though I agree that Mom shouldn’t be treating Nicole like a hired entertainer, still, what right does he have to intervene?
“You guys can have mine,” she says, handing her dinner plate to Stephanie. “I’ll be right back.”
“Come on,” I tell Chace and Stephanie, after Nicole goes upstairs to get her violin and my mom leaves in triumph. “Let’s go find seats.”
“I have a little surprise,” Mom announces, once the guests are all seated at the round tables dotting the foyer, forks and knives poised to dig in to dinner. “My daughter’s friend and roommate from Oyster Bay Prep School is treating us to some live music tonight. Take it away, Nicole!”
Nicole follows my mom to the front of the room, her expression verging on panic as she looks out at all the expectant faces. Homegirl might be used to performing, but clearly she’s rattled by having to put on an impromptu show for half of Congress.
“Um.” She swallows hard. “Happy New Year, everyone.” And then she begins to play.
I’m used to hearing Nicole practice what she calls “scales” in our dorm room, playing the same annoying sequence of notes over and over until I want to hit her with my pillow. I’m not used to…this. I’m not used to music that pierces my insides, that covers my skin with goose bumps, that makes me want to cry for no reason.
I glance at Chace. He’s watching in openmouthed amazement, as if she’s the only thing that exists in this moment. But he’s not the only one. Looking around the room, I see all of my mom’s jaded colleagues and friends rapt, their forks frozen in midair, forgetting to eat. An older man dabs his eyes with a handkerchief.
That’s my friend up there, I remind myself. I’m proud of her, I am. But I also feel a red-hot, searing envy. What have I ever done in comparison? I’ve never been able to bring a room to an awed hush. My parents have never looked on proudly as my talents moved people to tears. I might be a star in my little world at Oyster Bay Prep, but Nicole is an actual star. And the way my boyfriend is looking and listening to her right now, it makes me feel…insignificant. Something I never imagined I could be.
Nicole finishes the song with one final, breathtaking note. And then, after a moment of silence, the foyer fills with applause. The applause grows to a standing ovation, and of course I rise to my feet alongside Chace and Stephanie.
“How’s that for proving Oyster Bay is teaching our students well?” my mom exclaims as she rejoins Nicole, giddy from her idea proving such a success. She hugs my friend and iPhone flashes go off, her guests capturing the moment. And I’m happy for her, I am, I am. I’m not jealous.
I’m not jealous.