Page 90 of Grown

Mom shrugs. “Only the proxy paperwork that girl Jessica gave me.”

“Did it look something like this?”

Louie passes her a stack of papers. The instant I see its thickness I know we’re in trouble. Mom flips through the pages, nodding slow.

“Well, yes. She told me it’s all standard. Like a big long permission slip to go on a class trip.”

Louie rubs his face, eyebrows creased.

“Korey had you sign to his label, Field of Dreams Records.”

“He has his own label?” I ask. “Since when?”

“It’s an imprint under RCA, relatively new. He was going to announce this fall, with a roster of new up-and-coming artists.”

“So RCA sent this to you?” Mom asks. “Then, they gotta know what he’d done to her by now!”

“They do. And this is their first way of silencing you.” He pokes the papers in Mom’s hands hard. “According to this contract, he pretty much owns any music you produce for the next three years.”

It feels like the final gutting. The last chop to my mermaid tail. He knew how to slice into me where it would hurt the worst.

“But my songs... I’ve worked on them for years. They’re mine.”

Louie shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Enchanted. Unless we can get out of this contract, there’s not much we can do.”

Chapter 63

Road Trip

“Look who’s home just in time for Teen Conference,” Malika grumbles, rolling her eyes. “Ain’t that convenient.”

Malika Evens has a mansion, one in a gated community around the corner from our house. It always amazes me how we can be so close and yet so far in every way imaginable.

Our W&W group gathers in the driveway, loading up the van for our weekend trip to the National Teen Conference. Malika’s and Aisha’s moms offered to be our chaperones. They give Shea and me dubious glances with strained smiles.

“Hi, ladies. Right on time,” Mrs. Evens says.

“What’s up, superstar,” Sean says, winking. “Glad you cankick it with us common folk! Guess you got the guap to buy us some bottles this time around, right?”

Veins tighten around my neck and I fake a smile. Malika rolls her eyes. Shea grabs my arm before I can lift our suitcase into the trunk.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she whispers.

“We already paid for it,” I shoot back. “Mom’s been making payments for months. We’re going.”

“Yeah, but maybe Daddy needs...”

“Daddy needs to watch the Littles while Mom works. And with the way things are looking with the strike we might not even be in Will and Willow next year.”

Shea freezes, realization gut-punching her. “But... are you going to be OK?”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Really. Besides, I’m safe... with you.”

Her mouth cracks a little, eyes softening. As if she’s sorry for me. Which I can’t stand, but it’s better than her being mad at me.

“OK,” she concedes.