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Tyler shoots me a grateful look and my lips curve inresponse.
Something brushes my leg under the table and Ijump.
“Tyler, I said I’d help you catch up on history since I took it last semester.” I glance at the clock on the kitchen. “If we go to the café, you can meetPen.”
He drains the rest of his water glass. “Right. I still can’t believe I haven’t met yourfriend.”
“It’ll have to wait a little longer.” My dad sets down his fork and leans both elbows on the table. “We have work to do. When you’re done eating, we can getstarted.”
“Jax,” Haley chides lightly. “Tonight?”
“The kid didn’t move across the country to eat pasta and sit around all day,Hales.”
“What about history?” I protest as Tyler shovels the last bites into hismouth.
My dad shifts out of his chair and takes his plate to the dishwasher. “You can help him with history tomorrow. It’ll still bethere.”
Funny.
I fold my arms as I watch Tyler follow my dad toward the front of the house without a backward glance from either ofthem.
It’s not a dismissal, but it stings likeone.
* * *
Idon’t needto make excuses for Tyler, but when I show up alone at the café to meet Pen, I doanyway.
“It’s kind of a dick move,” Pen concedes. “But most people would probably rather make music with your dad than study withus.”
“Would you?” I challenge over mycappuccino.
She cocks her head. “Hellno.”
“I loveyou.”
On the way back, I try to recite Spanish verbs, the quiet ride of the Audi a perfect backdrop forstudying.
Still, I can’t kick the dinner scene out of myhead.
As my hands clench the steering wheel, I realize it wasn’t only the fact that I feel as if I’m losing myfriend.
The way my dad whisked Tyler away to practice, like it was some boys’ club, bothered me asmuch.
Music’s never been something we did together. He always had his band and Big Leap, the charity my dad started in his converted tour bus that lives on our property when it’s not staffed and traveling across states to help high school kids makemusic.
My dad has never offered to teach me, has never taken me seriously about anything besides mystudies.
Maybe if I could be good enough, I’d finally feel like I belong somewhere. If not at school, then athome.
As I’m pulling into the garage, my phone buzzes with atext.
Carly:Hey, Annie, it’s Carly :) Are you withTyler?
Istareat it for a long moment beforereplying.
Annie:How’d you get mynumber?
Carly:I thought you guys werefriends
