Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex
Sing Me to Sleep (13 page)
Derek turns to me. “I’d rather make sure Beth and—sorry what was your name?”
“Meadow.”
“Yeah. And Sarah and Leah all get back to their hotel safe. Can I walk you girls home?”
“Traitor.” Blake drops his arms off Sarah and Leah and pushes them toward Derek. “That’s Derek. Always looking after the women.”
“Shut up! ”
“If I don’t make it back to the hotel, it’ll be your fault.”
Derek’s eyes roll. “I can live with that.”
Derek walks us to the metro. Meadow makes sure she walks beside him, but he keeps turning back to include the rest of us. He keeps coughing again, like he did up on the mountain. I don’t blame him. He worked hard tonight. He looks tired, too. Wan, not just pale. But still he rides down to Ouchy, the part of Lausanne next to the lake, with us and escorts us to the Mermaid.
“Thanks, Derek.” Meadow flounces up the steps.
Leah and Sarah say good night and follow. I’m with them, but Derek touches my arm like he wants to say something. I fall back.
“I’m glad we finally got to meet.”
“Me too. You guys are great.”
Derek shakes his head. “I’m glad
I
got to meet
you
.” He touches my arm again, lightly like a butterfly flutter, and walks away.
I
got to meet
you
.” He touches my arm again, lightly like a butterfly flutter, and walks away.
I stand there, entranced by his retreating figure, and whisper, “Me too.”
chapter 11
BROKEN
I catch up to the other girls waiting for the elevator in time to hear Meadow say, “I think Derek’s into me.”
She’s perfect like him. How can he not be?
The elevator door opens, and we squeeze inside the tiny box. Leah pushes the button for our floor. “He’s too charming to be real. He walked us home.”
“Escorted.” Sarah laughs. “There’s four of us—and we have Beth. As if we wouldn’t be safe.”
Once an Amazon always an Amazon.
Meadow leads us off the elevator. “Obviously, he wanted to hang out with me as long as he could.”
We make it down the hall and into our room without being spotted. Terri, Meadow’s mom, and the other choir mom chaperones all have rooms on another floor, close to the younger girls. We’ve got four single beds squeezed into a room that is barely a double. We have to keep our suitcases on our beds during the day or we wouldn’t be able to get through the bathroom door.
Sarah snags the bathroom first. I start to change. Meadow dumps her case on the floor, throws herself on her bed, rolls over, stretches. “Derek has the bluest eyes.”
“They’re brown.” I throw the long tee I sleep in on and slip my bra and jeans out from under it. We weren’t stupid enough to sneak out to the concert in our official Bliss wear.
Meadow sits up. “Whatever.” She sighs and falls back on her pillows. “They are perfect.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed. “Do you think he really does drugs?”
Meadow pitches her pillow at me. “I like him. Don’t diss him.”
I catch the pillow, pile it on top of mine, and stretch out. “I think he’s nice, too.” Massive understatement. “But Blake said he has a drug habit.”
Sarah comes out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. “Blake was joking.”
Leah looks up from her suitcase at Sarah. “What, girl, do you see in him?”
Sarah turns back around and slams the bathroom door.
Meadow stares at the door. “Blake and Sarah?”
Leah shakes her head. “You’re blind.”
Meadow rolls on her side. “Blinded.”
Leah goes back to pawing through her suitcase. “Did anybody see where I put my pj’s?” She finds them and starts to change. “You know who Derek reminds me of?”
“Who?” Meadow sits up and looks around for her pillow. I chuck it back. Get her good in the face.
Leah pulls on her jams. “That guy in
Phantom
.” She’s way into Broadway.
Phantom
.” She’s way into Broadway.
I sit up. “Raoul? I don’t see it.” Okay, so am I.
“No. I bet under that charm he’s dangerous.” Leah hops onto her bed. “Drug habit. That gorgeous pale face. And he
composes
. He’s the Phantom.”
composes
. He’s the Phantom.”
Meadow wriggles and sighs. “He can drag me to his lair anytime.”
“But I think Beth looks more like Christine than you do.”
“Beth? No.” Meadow rolls on her side and studies my face.
Leah folds up her suitcase. “She’s the one with the voice.”
I shoot Leah a warning look. “Derek’s face is way too angelic to be the Phantom.”
Meadow says, “I wonder how he gets it that pale.”
I sit up, cross-legged in the middle of my bed, and lean forward. “Maybe he goes back to his room and shoots up.” I really don’t want to believe that.
Meadow shrugs. “He probably just does a little weed.”
“That’s hardly a drug habit.” He didn’t deny it, though. Didn’t offer any explanations. Behind those melting eyes and the gentle pressure of his hand on my arm, could he be dangerous? “Maybe we shouldn’t try to hang out with them so much tomorrow.”
Meadow sits up. “No way. If he is into drugs that means he major likes me. A guy into abusing substances needs a lot of motivation to skip a chance to go to a bar. Motivation like me.”
She rolls her eyes at Leah—thinks I don’t see, but I do and I get it. I’m not in the club. I don’t know anything about typical guy behavior. A little weed. A couple of bars. I admit that scares me. I don’t want any part of it.
I stretch and glance from Meadow to Leah. “We compete tomorrow. We need to focus.” I need to focus and not think about Derek lying in bed listening to me sing—while he trips out on whatever he takes. “I don’t think we should take any risks.”
Sarah throws open the bathroom door. “They’re doing lunch with us tomorrow after we perform. I already set it up with Blake.”
“Way to go, Sarah.” Meadow jumps up, hugs her, and steals the bathroom.
Leah and I groan. She plops on my bed next to me. “Now we’ll never get in there.”
Sarah jumps on my bed, too. Her flawless skin glows.
I hate to be a downer, but I still say, “Blake seems a little wild.”
“No more than the usual guy.” She pulls a face at me. “I know you’ve never been to a party, but—really—it’s no big deal. They all drink.”
I drop my voice to a whisper. “What do you think about Derek and the drugs?”
Leah shakes her head, impatient with my persistence.
Sarah wrinkles up her nose. “I don’t know. He doesn’t fit the average stoner profile, but artsy creative geniuses do drugs, too. He is pale.”
I nod. Beautifully pale. White, white skin. Dark, dark hair. And then those brown eyes and a sensitive, fascinating mouth. It’s kind of on the tortured side of the spectrum. Maybe that’s where the drugs come in.
The whole gentleman, won’t-go-to-a-bar thing could have been a huge act to trick Meadow. Or me. Did I frown when Blake brought up the bar? Probably. Derek could be up in that bar with Blake, chugging down a cold one—no, this is Europe, a slightly chilled, kind of warm one—at this moment, laughing with Blake about how he fooled me. How his plan is evolving nicely. How I stood frozen on that hotel step, massively entranced, as he walked away. He looks perfect, sounds perfect, but what do any of us know about him? He could be hiding anything he wants behind that heart-stopping face. I know what guys who look like Derek
do
.
do
.
Leah leans in close. “I don’t know if Derek is a scary drug addict, but there’s one thing we all
know
.” She looks hard at me, a smile playing around her lips. “He’s definitely not into Meadow.”
know
.” She looks hard at me, a smile playing around her lips. “He’s definitely not into Meadow.”
I pull out of the cozy knot. “He was being nice. Professional.” My heart starts zooming. “Guys don’t get into me.”
Sarah puts her fingers to her lips and whispers, “They do now.”
“Get used to it.” Leah tickles my feet. “You’re hot, Beth.”
I push her away. “You’re delusional.”
Sarah tickles me from the other side. “You could get anybody you want.”
I squirm away from them. “What about Meadow?”
“Blake told me Derek only goes for girls who can sing.” Sarah pushes aside her thick bangs.
“She sang really well this morning.”
“Not like you sing that solo to him every night.”
I swallow hard, shake my head. “This isn’t me. I don’t know how to get Derek.” I put out my hands to ward them off. “I’m here to sing.”
Leah and Sarah trade glances. Sarah pats my foot. “That’s all you’ll have to do.”
I don’t sleep well. The biggest day of my life is about to dawn. No pressure.
Right. I toss and turn, get up—trip over Meadow’s bed on my way to the bathroom. I put the toilet lid down and perch on it, my legs pulled up under my chin, my arms clutched around them in an upright fetal meltdown.
I’m dying to sing. That’s how I unwind. I fake it, quietly mouth through all our pieces. When I get to the end, I go back and lie down, close my eyes. I see Derek alone in his hotel room with a razor blade and a line of white dust, or a needle in his hand and a rubber strap tied around his arm. That picture fades, replaced by the wave of emotion that went through me when he said—
Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—
Tonight.
If Derek knew the pre-dyed, pre-manicured, pre-made-up, pre-lasered Beth, the Beast, would he have been so happy to meet me? That’s what I was when I recorded. He could be just like Colby, only smoother. A star singer instead of a star jock. Colby could be nice when he wanted to be. He managed to get all the beautiful girls at school that he wanted. If his performance at the prom is any kind of clue, maybe his brand of nice is mostly arrogance. Derek didn’t seem like that. How do I know, though?
So he listened to me sing, walked us home, and touched my arm. Does that mean he isn’t just as nasty as every other guy in the universe? Except Scott. But Derek isn’t a short, nerdy sweetheart who’s been bullied all his life. He’s gorgeous, oozes talent, experience, confidence. He isn’t anything like Scott. Could Derek be for real as nice as he seems—despite the drug habit? I close my eyes and find something new in my heart. A small spark of something I don’t recognize.
Awake tonight,
I give up
And embrace the glow you lit
When your eyes captured mine
And I heard you whisper,
‘Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—
Tonight.’
All of my life
I wait for
A touch like wings brushing my heart.
Is this blush on my face
All you have to give me?
Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—
Tonight.
I wake up too early. My head is pounding, and I feel like I’m going to puke. Breakfast and a couple of Advils help. Warm-ups and a run through help more. We pile on our tour bus and ride uptown to the ancient church where we’ll perform.
Then I have to deal with getting ready. My face is a routine by now. Meadow’s mom winds my hair up and fastens it to my head with the sharpest hairpins on earth. She shellacs it all in place. Then I’m stepping into my ruby gown. I get nervous again—hide out in the bathroom singing my solo over and over until we’re called.
We file onto the risers in our swishy ruby gowns. Eighty elegant girls. I feel okay, almost confident. I know my voice won’t let me down. The venue helps my nerves. No cold auditorium. A warm chapel full of wood like we sing in back home. Should be good acoustics.
I look at the audience. The benches behind the judges’ table are filled with guys in white golf shirts with a fancy red “A” embroidered on the pocket. Their whole choir came to hear us. Derek is looking at me. Our eyes lock, and he smiles. At that moment I’m grateful I look so dang perfect. Drug habit or not, he’s impossible to resist. I smile back at him. He gives me a thumbs-up. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly while Terri walks into the room. Polite applause. We sing the test piece. Totally nail it. More applause. We sing our technical second piece. The applause is louder for that one.
The piano starts “Take Me Home.” I close my eyes. The music transports me back to the church in Ann Arbor. It’s just the girls and me. No pressure. Derek’s there, too, though, waiting for me to sing, wanting to fall in love with my song. I open my eyes at the cue. My voice pours out. I look away from Terri, find Derek watching me, hanging on every note, mesmerized. It sends a thrill through me. Somehow I keep singing, but he’s stolen me. Every note, every quiet throb of passion is for him.
Take me home, take me home, take me home.
I’m not sure how he’s doing this, but even though I’m up here on stage with eighty girls, singing for the judges and an audience, it’s way intimate between Derek and me. The intensity of it mounts when I sing,
The dark boy who said he loved me / And fills my dreams at night
.
Take me home, take me home, take me home.
I’m not sure how he’s doing this, but even though I’m up here on stage with eighty girls, singing for the judges and an audience, it’s way intimate between Derek and me. The intensity of it mounts when I sing,
The dark boy who said he loved me / And fills my dreams at night
.
Other books
Grunts by Mary Gentle
Deathtrap by Dana Marton
So Cold the River (2010) by Koryta, Michael
The Creepers by Dixon, Norman
Miss Grief and Other Stories by Constance Fenimore Woolson
Crushed Velvet by Leanore Elliott
Folly Beach by Dorothea Benton Frank
The Perfect Storm (The Blake Boys Book 6) by Laurel, Rhonda
Granada by Raḍwá ʻĀshūr
