not doing it, Mum.”
“Wyatt, for once can you please just make my life easier? This is an opportunity for you to help someone.”
“You mean to help you. I know our family is contributing to this contest.”
“Good, then you know how important it is.”
“To you,” I argued.
“You know, you’re part of this family, too.”
I huffed a laugh. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Please don’t take your anger toward your father out on me.”
“He missed my last game! Ever!”
“Darling, had he known it was your last game, he would’ve been here. You know that.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“This move has required sacrifices from all of us. Your father wishes he was here more, but his offices are in New York and London and my parents are here.”
“Yes, but I don’t see why we all had to move here.”
“Do we really have to have this conversation again, Wyatt?”
“Yes! Because it wasn’t a conversation. It was Dad telling me what to do. I didn’t get a choice. I never do and I’m sick of it!”
My mother exhaled a tired breath and pushed her glasses up into her dark hair. “You’re right. None of this is fair. But life isn’t fair, darling. It’s not fair that my parents are sick. But they are and it’s my responsibility to take care of them. That’s what being an adult means, making hard choices. Maybe you should be grateful that life hasn’t required many from you thus far.”
I laughed.
“Is there something humorous about that?”
“Yeah, Mum. A lot, actually. I know what it means to sacrifice and make hard choices. I’m stuck in the middle-of-nowhere at a school I didn’t want to go to. You forced me to give up my old life and my friends and now I’ve just been forced to give up baseball—the only thing I had left.”
“Then perhaps you can look at this as an opportunity to find something new to enjoy.”
“Like singing?” I asked sarcastically.
She shrugged. “You never know. You have the talent. You might like it if you stopped fighting it.”
I shook my head. “This is my life, Mum. I’m not a child anymore. You can’t make me do this.”
“You’re right, Wyatt. It is your life and you’re almost eighteen. I can respect your desire to make your own choices. If you want to be treated as an adult, I’ll speak to you like one. As Northwood’s resource director, it’s my job to assist the students at this school. Today I’ve been presented with two students who need support. An athlete and a musician. The athlete is facing an injury which is keeping him from a sport he loves, the musician is facing an obstacle that could potentially keep her from earning a scholarship that will greatly affect her ability to attend college and pursue something she loves. My solution is to pair them together. The athlete would get a much-needed distraction and time to heal, while the musician would get a partner and a chance to secure her future.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, hating my mother’s logic. “Even if I wanted to help, I’m not registered for the competition. Wasn’t the deadline months ago?”
My mother’s eyes lit up. “You don’t need to be registered. Layne applied to compete in the songwriting category. She just needs someone to perform her songs to be eligible.”
“Why can’t she perform them?”
“She could, but she’s made it clear that she’s not a singer.”
“Neither am I.”
My mother gave me a trying look, making me regret how freely I sang in the shower. I did love music and I knew I could sing—like she said, it was in my blood, whether I liked it or not. But I liked bands like Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones. I couldn’t sing whatever girlie-pop Layne was probably into.
Plus, I had a reputation to uphold. And that meant I didn’t go around hanging out with band geeks or joining singing competitions. Without baseball, fitting in at Northwood was going to be even harder.
Layne might be a perfectly nice girl, but she wasn’t my type. Nerdy didn’t do it for me. I already had a problem with authority. The last thing I needed was some chick bossing me around. I may not know her, but one look at her dark framed glasses and buttoned up collar, and I could just tell she was critical and judgy. My vibe was more causal and fun. We’d never work.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mum. I wish I could help, but you’ll have to