Chapter Thirteen: 

 

The next morning, I woke up early to meet James for rehearsal. I was already dressed and put together for the school day when I crept downstairs. I was just about to make a run for the door and get into Annie’s car when I saw Mom lounging on the couch with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. 

Immediately I froze, afraid if even moving an inch could give me away. 

“Good morning, Halo,” Mom said, not looking back and taking a swig of her coffee. The woman has eyes in the back of her head. “It’s a bit early for school, don’t you think?” she asked, obviously playing coy with me. 

I relaxed my shoulders and crossed my arms. She caught me. “When did you figure out I was leaving earlier?”

“When a black Audi started parking in our driveway daily,” Mom blows on her hot beverage. “Whose car is that, honey?”

“My friend Annie’s,” I reply, not liking where this conversation is leading. 

“And why does Annie keep coming here every day around six-thirty?”

I stepped closer to the sofa. Finally, my mother faced me with a blank expression. It was like she was interrogating me. She has already started the interrogation process, I retorted. “I can’t drive, Mom. I haven’t had the chance to earn my permit, let alone my license.”

“I know that,” Mom remarked, finishing her mug with a final sip. Setting the cup down on the coffee table, she says, “Why do you need to leave early for school with your friend every morning, Halo?”

I stared at her. This was not how I wanted to tell her I was in the choir. Or, that I sang for that matter. I had planned on telling Mom eventually, it just slipped from my mind. I’ve been too busy with rehearsals and my friends. Wow. I have been too focused on my own life than my own mother. 

I heaved out a long sigh. “Promise not to get mad?”

She held up her right hand. “Promise. Now, spill.”

Another sigh. “It all started on my first day. When Annie and Lissa gave me a tour around the school, they showed me the music room. When I saw what was inside, I was…amazed by the choir performing. I knew that I wanted to sing and be a part of that group. So, I contemplated auditioning because Annie and Lissa told me that this girl named Alice Anne would ruin my high school reputation if I were to try out and steal her position. I had still planned on auditioning anyway, but…” I took in a breath. “This guy named James who used to be lovey-dovey with Alice made me audition so we could take her down a peg because, Mom, this girl is the most privileged, rich, and snobby teenager I have ever met. So, I auditioned and got in; Alice left because of me; and now James signed the both of us up for the Annual East High concert — which is tomorrow night — and we’re going to perform together.” I clapped my hands together. “That is the whole story. I’ll give you a few minutes to let that sink in.”

Mom stared at me now, trying to figure the story I told that took place in a span of weeks that I explained in a matter of minutes. “So…you’re in the choir?”

“Yes,”

“And…you’re performing at a concert for school?”

“Correct.”

“And…you can sing?”

“Just like Lady Gaga,”

Mom pressed her hand to her forehead. I probably just gave her a migraine. “Halo Elwine Nelson, why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?”

“First, please don’t say my full name: it’s ugly,” I said. “And secondly, I didn’t tell you because at first, I was going to, but then I couldn’t bring myself to actually confront you about it. You had told me how you were lonely when I was in prison, and how shopping with me is important to you. I had thought about doing it then, but I decided against it. From then on, it kind of just slipped my mind because I had concert rehearsals with James and–”

My mother put her hand up to stop me. “Halo, I’m very disappointed in you,”

“What?” I balked. “Why?”

Mom looked up: her expression was anything but happy. “You’ve discarded all of your studies because of your participation in the choir! And, to add to it, you’ve even decided to sign up for your school’s concert, which has dropped your grades even more! Halo, honestly, I can’t believe you have thrown your entire life away for singing and getting back at some boy’s ex-girlfriend and–”

This time I was the one who interrupted. “James isn’t ‘some boy;’ he’s my friend, Mom. And I haven’t been throwing my entire life away for singing. I actually enjoy it and I’m good at it.”

Mom shakes her head. “You see, you think you’re good at something, but have you actually ever heard yourself sing, Halo?”

“I don’t have to,” I replied. “Everyone says I’m good. So, I believe them.”

“You’re not afraid you’ll embarrass yourself on stage in front of everyone at the concert?”

She mentioned the concert! She must not be that mad. “Not at all,”

Mom smiled coolly. “Good, because you’re not going to that concert tomorrow night,”

“WHAT?” I screamed. “Mom! You can’t do that!”

“I just did!” she replied. “Now, go tell your friend outside that there’s no need for her to drive you because I will.”

I growled and stomped outside the door. I saw Annie staring through the windshield at my front lawn, checking the time on her dashboard every second or two. Today, she dyed her hair a neon blue. It was a very different look for her, but I was so mad I discarded it. When I reached her Audi, she rolled down the window. 

“It’s about time!” she called over the engine. “If we book it now, we can still make it in time for rehearsal with James.”

“I can’t go,” I growled. “So, just go on without me–” I paused. I wanted to perform at the concert so bad. Mom was mad at me because it had got in the way of my schooling, but I could care less about school. I was in JUVIE; I have street smarts. Which is way more important than anything the school teaches us. 

I was going to perform at the concert. 

I’m going to rehearse with James. 

“What are you saying?” Annie asks. 

“Never mind what I was saying,” I replied, keeping my face neutral. “Let’s book it,”

I ran into the school, just barely making it on time to rehearsals. James was sitting on a stool when I entered the music room, strumming chords on his guitar. When I bolted open the door, he sat up and his strumming ceased. Sitting his instrument down, he came up to me. 

“Where were you?” he asked. “School starts in fifteen minutes. Now, we barely have any time to rehearse.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “My mom was mad that I was failing because of my involvement in choir and the concert.”

“Wait,” James raised his eyebrow. “If your mom is upset, why are you still here to rehearse?”

“I left behind her back,”

“Halo!” he scolded. 

“I’m not proud of it!” I retorted. “But, she was going to forbid me from performing at the concert tomorrow.”

“So you think this makes things better now that you left anyway?”

I bowed my head. “No. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Over the PA system, the speaker screeched and Mrs. Miranda’s voice echoed throughout the building. “Halo Nelson, please come to the principal’s office: your mother is here to see you.”

No. This can’t be happening! I looked at James, wide-eyed. “You have to get me out of here.”

“What? No!” James replied. “You have to go and see your mom. I’m not helping you with this. You dug this hole; now dig yourself out of it.”

I slumped my shoulders and began to walk in the direction of the office. Just as I was almost out the door of the music room, I turned around and said, “If I can’t perform with you, sing the duet with Lissa instead.”

James smiled weakly. “There’s only one person I’d sing my duet with.”

 

When I arrived at the office, Mom was there waiting for me next to Mrs. Miranda’s desk. Her arms were crossed and she had that same unhappy expression on her face. Mrs. Miranda’s face was neutral, clearly not sensing the tension between my mother and I. 

Mom turned to face Mrs. Miranda. “I can take her from here. She’ll be doing her school work from home for the next two days.”

The motherly secretary cupped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, what a shame. She’ll miss the Annual East High Concert.”

“Mom! You can’t do this to me!” I yelled. 

Mom’s eyes darted to me with a stare that could kill. She grabbed my arm and gripped it tightly — so tight I was afraid I would lose circulation. Through gritted teeth, she says, “If you think I was going to let you off easy, you were wrong. There is no chance of you performing at the concert now and you are grounded until you bring your grades back up.”

I felt tears forming, but I pushed them back. I wouldn’t cry. Not even when my life seems like it was ending. “I hate you.”

Mom’s expression changed for a split second, almost as if my spiteful words fractured her heart. “I hope you don’t mean those words,”

“I meant every single one,”