One Tiny Lie – Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,53

person who preferred to remain in the shadows. “Thanks for agreeing to help me,” she said softly. She had a Spanish accent, but her English was perfect.

“You’re welcome.” Luna felt an instant kinship with Isabela. She reminded Luna a bit of herself at that age. Luna stood patiently waiting to be invited in, not wanting to crowd Isabela.

Isabela gave her a hesitant look as she shifted on her feet, twisting her hands. “Would it be alright if we went to my school to practice? It’s only a few blocks up the road. They have a piano. The music teacher said I could use the auditorium.”

“Sure. Would you like to ride with me?”

Isabela nodded. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the red convertible sports car parked alongside the road. It stuck out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood.

Luna waited as Isabela gathered her things and locked the door. Rosalyn was still at work at the Giles’ home. From what Luna gathered, Rosalyn and her husband had divorced years ago, so it was just Rosalyn and Isabela.

Isabela hugged her notebook to her chest, her chin downcast as they walked down the sidewalk to the car. Luna felt for Isabela. She was such a beautiful girl, but she was lacking confidence.

“Go to the stop sign and take a right,” Isabela directed when Luna pulled out from the curb. Luna glanced at Isabela. She was sitting stone still, pressing her notebook to her chest, as if she were trying to contain herself to a tiny space. A few beats of awkward silence passed as Luna tried to think of something to say.

“Your grandmother is an amazing lady.”

Isabela nodded.

“Tell me about your music,” Luna prompted. “What kind of songs do you like to sing?”

“Pop mostly, some country.”

Silence.

Sheesh. This girl was tough. She was even more shy than Luna was at that age. “Tell me about the talent show.”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “It’s mostly something that my grandma wants me to do.”

“Rosalyn tells me that you’re very talented.”

She smiled slightly at that; a faint rose color brushing her cheeks.

“What song are you singing for the talent show?”

“I haven’t decided on a particular song yet,” Isabela said. “I’m looking at a few.”

“Okay. Do you need me to help you choose?”

“Sure,” Isabela said in a nonchalant tone. She pointed. “Turn here.”

Luna pulled in the parking lot. They got out of the car and went in through the main entrance.

“The auditorium is on the second floor,” Isabela explained.

“Do you play the piano?” Luna asked.

“A little, but not great.” Isabela’s expression grew worried. “Do you play?”

Luna bit back a smile. “I can get us through.” Truthfully, she was quite good at the piano and guitar. Her adopted mother had made sure that Luna was well-versed in many aspects of music. When they stepped into the auditorium, the familiar scent of wood, cleaner, and dust invaded her senses, taking her back to her growing-up years. A pang went through her, making her miss her adopted mother, Gail. Luna had spent lots of time playing around the stage and auditorium while her mother taught voice and piano lessons after school.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Luna said as they gathered around the piano.

Isabela’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her back pocket. Her brows creased as she began punching keys on her phone to respond to the text. Color seeped into Isabela’s face.

“Is everything okay?” Luna asked.

Isabela nodded affirmatively, but her expression spoke otherwise as she kept typing on her phone. A bubble of irritation swelled in Luna’s chest. Someone needed to teach Isabela that it was rude to spend all her time texting when someone was waiting to help her. Then again, Luna was doing this for Rosalyn who was worried sick about her granddaughter. Luna took in a deep, calming breath as she waited. Was Isabela texting with her boyfriend? If so, things must not be going well, judging by Isabela’s tight expression.

Finally, Isabela shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Sorry about that,” she said.

“No worries.” At least Isabela had the good grace to apologize.

“Show me your songs,” Luna prompted.

Isabela opened her notebook. The three contending songs were pop. Luna recognized the tunes. They wouldn’t be hard to play.

“Okay, I’ll play the piano and you sing. We’ll run through all of them and then pick.”

Luna played the intro. She stumbled over a couple of notes, wincing. “Sorry, I’m out of practice.”

Isabela began singing. She had a beautiful voice, just as Rosalyn said, but she’d never been taught

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