But there was none.
Was Candace Kennedy actually being nice to me?
“Um, thanks,” I managed when I realized she was waiting for a response.
She handed me my phone and started to walk away, but then she turned back.
Here it comes.
I knew she couldn’t be nice with no reason. I held my breath waiting for whatever insult she was about to spear me with. But instead she said, “You should sit with us at lunch.”
“What?”
“Totally. We can talk wardrobe for the competition. Plus,” she lowered her voice. “I know some of the girls you’re up against from the pageant circuit. I can fill you in on all their weaknesses.”
“Oh, um . . . thanks?” What did one say to that?
Candace smiled, conspiratorially. “See ya at lunch.”
“See ya.”
The rest of the day continued in the same strange haze of unexpected praise and conversations. People who’d never spoken to me before were now talking to me as if we’d been lifelong friends.
It was startling.
After being mostly invisible while walking the halls of Northwood High, it was hard to get used to so much attention. And when two freshman girls stopped me to ask for an autograph, I truly felt like I’d fallen into an alternate reality.
I wanted to say no, because who was I to be signing autographs, but they were so sweet.
“Your song like totally changed my perspective,” the one said.
“Me too,” the other added. “I feel so much less alone now.”
“Wow . . .” I struggled for words. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
“Yeah. Thanks, so much for sharing that song,” the little brunette added.
“You’re totally our hero,” her friend said.
The brunette blushed. “We want to write music, too.”
I grinned. “You should. It’s really been a great outlet for me.”
“How do we get started?” the brunette asked.
“Well, I actually learned a lot from the pep band.”
“Really?” they said in unison.
“Yeah. Mrs. Baker is an amazing musician. And she has tons of resources to help get you started. She helped connect me with people who give piano and guitar lessons.”
The girls beamed at each other. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I told you she’d be cool,” I heard one of them whisper as they hurried away.
I couldn’t help smiling. This was what it was all about—making a difference with my music. My chest felt so full of joy I could’ve floated down the hall.
For the millionth time, I wished Wyatt were here. He deserved so much of the credit that I was getting. Yes, I’d always had the talent inside of me, but he’d brought it out. I guess sometimes, we just need that one person who gives us the strength to show ourselves to the world.
Wyatt had become that person for me.
That thought made me glow even more than the praise my music was getting.
I found myself wondering when it had happened—the shift between Wyatt and me. We’d gone from enemies, to partners, to friends to . . . what were we now?
My heart beat out an answer that my mind stubbornly refused.
Today had reinforced my decision to put my music first, but that still didn’t make it any easier to ignore my feelings for Wyatt.
One thing was certain, he wasn’t the boy I’d first thought he was. He was so much more. My heart warmed as I thought about all the amazing ways my life had changed in the short while I’d known him. It made me feel even worse about the way we’d left things yesterday.
I don’t know what had possessed me to tell him about the whole Lola prom debacle. It was last year, and Lola would kill me if she knew I’d told him about it. The girl had truckloads of ego, but it could be bruised easily.
I hadn’t meant to say anything, but it just slipped out when Wyatt started talking about prom. That was the problem with our relationship. I was getting too comfortable around him. Without my guard up, not only was it easier to fall for him, but it was also easier to let him in and apparently divulge sworn secrets.
I groaned, knowing I was going to have to tell Lola what I’d done.
Hopefully, she was really as over him as she’d said. I looked at my phone, wondering if I should just rip the Band-Aid off now so she had some time to get over her anger before she was mono-free and back at school. The last we’d spoken she said she’d be cleared to return in a few weeks.
But then I thought about Wyatt.