Page 158 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“Hold up,” Madison says, following. “Maybe sit down first? Think things through? I know you’re pissed at Ryder, but don’t you think…”
I discard my backpack and empty chip packet on the floor and step onto the next staircase.
“Alice, slow down.”
“You don’t get it,” I finally say. “I need to know about my own life. Everyone treats me like I’m something to use, and I’m sick of it. I need my own power. My own identity. That starts with finding out about the past.”
“What past?” Madison asks, panting to keep up with me.
“About my mom. About what Miranda’s been hiding. I’ve asked, and she won’t tell me. I’m done waiting for her to decide when I deserve answers about my family.”
Madison’s footsteps creak on the narrow stairs, and she mutters something under her breath.
“What?” I ask.
“I said, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Madison says, carefully taking the stairs behind me. “I just want it on the record that I helped you. Whatever happens next.”
“Noted.”
“And if there’s a ghost up here, I’m leaving.”
“There’s no ghost.”
“Says the girl looking for answers about her mother.”
The third-floor hallway is exactly as I remember it. Short and dim, with warm air pressing in from both sides. Miranda’s bedroom door on the left, slightly ajar. The office door on the right, closed.
I stop in front of the office door, staring at the brass handle in the low light.
Madison stops beside me, catching her breath. She looks at the door, then at the key in my hand, then at my face. Whatever she sees makes her press her lips together and not say anything else.
I put the key in the lock. The mechanism gives a soft, clean click, and then the door swings inward.
I cross the room without hesitation and go straight for the filing cabinets in the corner. My sights are on the one labeled ‘Personal’ and the drawer pulls open with a low, metallic groan.
Inside, hanging files stretch back in neat rows, each labeled in Miranda’s precise handwriting. I flip through them quickly, my fingers working past documents with dates and names I don’t recognize, until I reach mine.
With trembling fingers, I pull out the folder.
“Are you okay?” Madison whispers behind me. “If you’re too freaked out, we can just back away now.”
I wave her off. “No, I’m okay.”
Inside is a thin stack of papers clipped together. The top sheet is on official letterhead, dated the day Mrs. Rodriguez drove me here. There’s a checklist of requirements, a placement confirmation, and a section at the bottom where Miranda signed her name.
“Are you sure you want me here for this?” Madison keeps her voice low.
I shrug it off as I flip through the pages. “Why not? Everyone either finds out my business, or just makes it up anyway. Maybe if someone else knows the truth, it won’t be as bad this time.”
“You really feel that way? After what happened with Ryder?”
“I’m not leaving this big question mark hanging over my life. And I’m certainly not letting someone like Jasper uncover my past before I do.”
I thumb past my intake form and school transcript. Miranda had circled my GPA in red pen and drawn a small, neat asterisk beside the note about my accelerated graduation track.
Madison creeps forward with her phone half-raised. “Can I film this?”
I look up and her expression is somewhere between sheepish and hopeful.
