Page 157 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“I need you!” she yells. “I can’t have everything I’ve worked for falling apart!”
“I’m not your pawn!”
“But he’s better because of you!” she yells, and then something falters in her expression. She blinks hard, stepping backward and composing herself. “It’s not just tutoring…” Her voice softens as she curls her hair behind her ears, dipping her gaze. “It took me a moment to realize it, but you helped him during the performance on Saturday night. It was you who helped him kick those nerves. He needs you, Alice.”
“So who is it, Miranda?” I ask, nausea sloshing inside me. “Him or you? Who am I helping?”
“It’s helping all of us, Alice. We all live under this roof.”
“I can’t do it,” I tell her. “It’s not just me. Ryder doesn’t want to be around me either.”
“That’s how he felt when your tutoring sessions began, and you both got through it.”
“Find someone else.”
“We tried that,” Miranda replies. “Many, many times. Nothing has been as promising as when he works with you. It’s just one more essay, Alice. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“No, it isn’t. What about the next class he’s failing? It’ll never be enough for you.”
Miranda groans, stomping her high heel on the hardwood floor. “Why won’t you help me? Why must everyone in this family make helping me so infuriatingly hard?”
I squint, shaking my head. “What are you talking about?”
Miranda reaches for her planner, and something slim and brass slips out from between the pages before she closes it. Miranda turns toward the door, shutting the planner and tucking it under her arm.
“Wednesday afternoon,” she says, striding toward the front door. “You and Ryder will study in the library. No arguments, Alice. You promised me you’d help him, and that’s what you’re going to do.”
Miranda doesn’t wait for my answer. The door opens and closes, then there’s nothing but the flicker of the chandelier and the fading crunch of gravel outside.
I turn back to the side table to investigate what fell out of Miranda’s planner.
My breath escapes in one low gasp.
A key. Small, brass, and slightly tarnished.
I cross the foyer and pick it up. As I inspect it in my hand, I remember where I’ve seen it. The one and only time someone has used a key in this creepy house.
Upstairs. Miranda’s office.
“Is the coast clear?” Madison whispers, sheepishly appearing from down the hall. “What the heck was happening with all that yelling?”
“Just my aunt being my aunt.”
I open my palm, and the key sits in the center.
Madison stares at it. “What is that?”
“It fell out of my aunt’s planner.” I move through the hallway and toward the staircase. “It’s for the door to her office.”
“Does she know you have it?” Madison asks, following me up the stairs.
“Nope.”
A beat of silence.
“Alice,” Madison says carefully. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to snoop around?”
I’ve already cleared the stairs and am moving toward the third-floor stairwell.
