Page 160 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I love you. That hasn’t changed. But love isn’t the same as being available. I hope someday you find what you’re really looking for.
Sarah
The room is very quiet.
I read the last paragraph again, and tears drop onto the page before I realize my eyes had welled up.
I press the letter flat against my chest, and the paper is cool against my palm. Mom had written Miranda out of her life with the same finality she brought to everything. The careful way she folded napkins into swans, or the way we needed to set cutlery half an inch from the edge of the table.
Mom chose me over her sister.
Then she died, and Miranda took me in.
I walked into this house two weeks ago, hoping my aunt wanted me here.
Did she want my money? At least whatever money she thought I was coming here with.
The fragments of what Ryder told me fit into context. A hefty loan, buying this house when it was under foreclosure, and selling her record label before going into talent management.
Miranda is bad with money. Am I her next payday? If things don’t work out with Sky Chaos, is she going to work me like she did my mother and bleed me dry?
I can’t let her find out about the business and house sales. I dig through the social services files, wondering if there’s anything about Mrs. Rodriguez’s next visit.
“Alice?” Madison asks. “What’s wrong?”
Without answering her, I pull out my phone, searching for any messages from Mrs. Rodriguez that I had left ignored.
“Alice?”
“I can’t…” I stammer, scrolling through my phone. “I can’t stay in this house. I can’t be under Miranda’s guardianship.”
“My gosh, what did you read in there?”
My hands tremble so much that I drop my phone. Madison is quick to scoop it up for me, but in a panic, I gather all the letters, shove them back in the filing cabinet, and close the drawer with a sharp click.
“I need to get out of here,” I say.
“Okay, we can go downstairs and...”
“I mean out of this house. I need a plan.” I turn around, and whatever is written on my face makes Madison go quiet. “Will you drive me to school in the morning?”
Madison flinches. “You want me to drive all the way out here again? In the morning?”
“Yes. I can’t get back into a car with Ryder or Miranda. I need to get to school and see the guidance counselor first thing.”
“Guidance counselor?” Madison tilts her head. “What are you up to?”
I look at the filing cabinet one more time, then at the key in the office door.
“At my old school, I was on track to graduate early,” I say. “I let it slide because I didn’t want to leave home a year early. But turns out life had other plans.” I move toward the door andpocket the key. “I need to leverage being enrolled at Ashworth Academy, get noticed by some good colleges, and get the heck out of this house.”
I step into the hallway, and the narrow walls press in from both sides. “I need to get far away from my aunt before she goes after my mother’s money again. If I can graduate early, I can also find a way to get emancipated and not have anyone as a guardian.”
“Okay,” Madison says, pulling the office door closed behind her. “Guidance counselor. Early graduation. Escape plan.” She falls into step beside me on the narrow stairs. “You’ve had a terrible day, and you’re somehow the most organised person I’ve ever met.”
“My parents ran a catering business,” I say. “Prep is everything.”
The house groans around us as we descend, its old bones settling in the cooling evening air. I grip the key in my pocket all the way down to the ground floor.
