at my hair, and stared out the window at the desert. Maybe it was time to tell him—about Flynn & Kellar, about being out of meds, about everything. Sooner or later we needed to rehearse the Truck Drop, and we could’ve been spending our time on the road talking through it instead of giving each other the silent treatment. I bit my lip and glanced toward the front of the RV. I detected anger in the stiffness of Dad’s neck and the tilt of his head. I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. I would wait until the props were secure. Until I had the money figured out.
Three hours into the drive, Grace Wu called, and I had to pretend it was a friend from school while I retreated into my shoebox to go over the paperwork for Flynn & Kellar’s Live Magic Retrospective. It was all boilerplate stuff, but seeing the dates and the amounts in print suddenly made everything real.
PERFORMANCE DATE: OCTOBER 30, 4 P.M. CALL, 7 P.M. SHOW
LOAD-IN, TECH REHEARSAL: OCTOBER 28, 2 P.M.–8 P.M.
Jesus. We had to be in LA in four days. Time was moving impossibly fast.
APPEARANCE FEE: $5,000
BONUS UPON SUCCESSFUL PERFORMANCE: $10,000
MAXIMUM PAYOUT: $15,000
As I stared at the numbers, it occurred to me that if Higgins didn’t drop his price, the five-thousand-dollar appearance fee would be a wash. The publicity from another epic failure might generate some gigs, but not for long. Six months from now, we’d be back where we’d started.
Which meant we actually had to pull off the Truck Drop.
My brain couldn’t process the added stress of this realization. I wanted to sleep, but instead I finished the paperwork, sent it back, then logged into my school website, dreading what I was about to see.
I had three new messages from teachers.
The deadline for my King Lear essay had passed; I could submit it tomorrow for partial credit. Where was my Steinbeck report? Wouldn’t it be a shame to let my grade slip further? If I didn’t turn in my earth science summaries by midnight, I would receive a zero. Did I know I was in danger of failing?
I put my head down on the table. In danger of failing. That’s precisely what I was.
In search of distraction, I picked up my phone—and then, stupidly, opened my text messages. I thumbed through my conversation with Ripley first, smiling at his clever wordplay, but eventually the temptation grew too strong and I opened my text chain with Liam. I reread his last message over and over, obsessively trying to extract some deeper meaning from his vague comments:
Really sorry. Crazy couple of days. Will try to call tomorrow.
Well, tomorrow was here, and he hadn’t called. I told myself I should wait, that text messages couldn’t convey tone, that I was overreacting. If I pinged him now, I would seem desperate. I just had to be patient. Wait for him to call.
I ignored my advice and started typing.
Hey. Sorry you’ve had crazy days. I know what that’s like lol!
Ugh. I deleted the lol. It made me sound like a twelve-year-old.
I enjoyed our second “date.” I’ve always wanted to make out on a railroad tie.
Was I really going to send this? Yes, I was. But first, I added:
If everything works out, I’ll be in LA in four days. Are you still down for In-N-Out?
Then, before I could chicken out, I clicked Send.
I headed into the back to take a nap. If we booked the gig, I was going to be up late.
I had just closed my eyes when my phone rang. The call was from a northern Arizona area code.
“This is Ellie.”
“Hi, it’s Sharon at Lone Arrow Casino. How are you?”
My heart crawled into my throat.
Six years ago on our way to Las Vegas we’d played one night at Lone Arrow. I had looked it up in Dad’s old gig log: They had paid us fifteen hundred dollars, and they’d comped a hotel room.
“I’m good,” I said. “How are things up the mountain?”
“Getting colder,” she said. “I got your message. It’s not exactly high season here, but I’m sure we can do something. When are you coming through?”
I bit my lip. “Tonight, actually.”
“Oh, jeez. I didn’t realize.”
I heard her flipping pages. My stomach turned over.
“I could bump the DJ and put you in the lounge. But it’s a Wednesday, and it’ll be mostly kids from NAU. I’m not sure if that’s your crowd.”
A Wednesday wouldn’t pay for the props, but it might get us to Vegas. Plus I