Samara: A Kilenya Romance Page 6

  “I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” I said. “I’m not going to use it. How can I, after what my dad said today? He can’t sell Mary. I’m giving them every dime that was going toward my trip. It won’t be enough to cover what he’d make from selling his Steinway, but it’ll help.”

  Matt swerved to the side of the road, making me gasp. He killed the engine and turned toward me. “Are you serious? How can you do that?”

  “It’s not like I can’t get it back. I’m only sixteen—I can keep saving up my money, and in another year, I’ll be able to apply again.”

  “But Sammy, this is your dream—you’re future—you’re talking about. Giving it up like this? For some piano?”

  I put my hand on his arm to calm him down. “It’s fine, Matt. And my dad’s piano isn’t just some piano. It would be like me getting rid of my guitar, times ten. It cost him several thousand dollars—he saved up for it all through high school and college, plus a few years after he and Mom got married. Him giving up Mary is much, much worse than me giving up Julliard. I promise.”

  “Insane. Absolutely insane.” He made eye contact with me. “And one of the most selfless, amazing things I’ve ever heard. Sammy, I’d been wondering over the past couple of days if I’m dating the wrong girl. I’ve got my answer now.” He turned to look forward, putting his hands on the wheel. His knuckles turned white. “And I have to stop pretending I don’t care for you. I do—since the first time we met, in the music store. I knew then there was something special about you, and it’s obvious now what it is. You’re compassionate and charitable. You really care for those around you, and I’m drawn to you. I can’t hide that anymore.”

  He looked at me, tenderness and care in his eyes, but also pain. “And I’m in the wrong relationship.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. My emotions were so conflicting, I was sure I was about to be torn in half. He liked me! He cared for me! But . . . he was dating my sister.

  He started the truck’s engine and pulled back onto the road. Neither of us spoke the rest of the ride home. I felt fear—not knowing the future. How things would work out—if at all—between us. Oh, I hoped so much they would! I had a sinking feeling inside my stomach that they wouldn’t though. I wasn’t living in a fairytale, as much as I hoped I was.

  We pulled up at the cabin and went back to my room to finish practicing. I re-tuned my guitar, since it had already slipped since Mark put the new string on. Mom called up the stairs to me that we’d be leaving for home first thing in the morning—cutting the vacation short by a couple of days.

  Dad let us know we needed to play at least four songs for the concert, and I was especially glad Matt had encouraged me to buy just that many. We practiced through them several times. He didn’t leave my side for a few hours, and Molly didn’t come looking for him.

  About an hour before dinner and during our last run-through of Hold On, Molly walked past my room on her phone, giggling and saying something about nice muscles.

  Matt looked at me. “I really can’t believe her. How do you handle the mood swings?”

  “I ignore them.”

  He stared at the wall. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he asked, “Who has she been talking to?”

  “The lifeguard. From the pool.”

  He nodded. “She’s basically cheating on me.”

  “It’s what she does. She always finds the next boyfriend while dating the current one. She thinks it’s normal, and I suppose, for some, it is.”

  He leaned back against my bed and closed his eyes. Finally, he opened them. “Let’s go through the songs one more time.”

  We worked on the next song, but I could tell Matt’s mind was elsewhere. I wasn’t into things, either.

  He put his guitar down. “There’s no sense putting off the inevitable.” He smiled ruefully at me. “Wish me luck.” He left the room, turning to walk to Molly’s, and I groaned, laying across the floor. Here we go.

  At first, nothing happened. Then Molly started shrieking and yelling. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but didn’t need to. Her tone made it evident. He was breaking up with her. A sensation somewhat close to elation hit me, but it was dampened somewhat by the events of the day and doubts over what would happen next.

  A moment later, Matt walked past my door but didn’t stop. Molly followed soon after, but she swung into my room, her face red, the anger I expected written all over it.

  “What did you say to him?” she shrieked. “What did you do?”

  My heart started beating fast. My sister could be pretty scary sometimes. Especially when she was flying off the handle like this.

  “I told him the truth.”

  “And what was that?” she yelled.

  “That you were going to break up with him.”

  “I told you I wasn’t!”

  “Then why are you cheating on him?”

  “A stupid phone call isn’t cheating!”

  I shook my head. “Molly, stop it. Think over things. This is how you always are. You date a guy and are loyal to him for a couple of weeks, then someone else flirts with you and you pay attention to them. Talking to them on the phone. Usually they don’t even know you have a boyfriend already.”

  “Chris does.”

  “Chris? The lifeguard? He knows you’re dating someone?”

  “Of course he does! Matt was with me at the pool, remember?”

  I closed my eyes. “Great. You’ve found someone who is just as bad when it comes to dating.” I looked up at her. “Can’t you see how you are? It’s this awful cycle. You’ll never find someone worth being with if you keep it up.”

  She growled at me. “Samara Oldroyd. You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

  “I know how disgusted Matt was with you earlier when you threw a fit about clothes.”

  She turned and stormed from my room, and I put my guitar away with shaking hands. A few moments later I heard the doorbell ring. Grayden called up the stairs to Molly. She practically danced past my bedroom. I followed her downstairs cautiously, careful not to draw attention to myself, and peeked around the corner into the living room.

  My jaw dropped open. Though, I suppose it shouldn’t have. I mean, my sister is very predictable. It was Chris. The lifeguard. Of course.

  Had Matt even left yet? I scurried past the living room, hoping not to be seen, and rushed into the kitchen. Mom was finishing up dinner and I jumped to her side. “The lifeguard is here for Molly.”

  Mom shook her head. “And only a few moments after Matt left?”

  My heart sunk. “He’s gone?”

  “Yes. He ran and got his things, then peeled out of the driveway a little bit ago.”

  I leaned against the counter, putting my head in my hands. Mom turned to me.

  “Oh, honey, things will be fine. You’ll see.” She hugged me, patting my back for a moment. “Want to help finish things up?”

  I wiped a few tears away. “Sure.”

  I cut up the vegetables while my mom made the dip. I’d started on the broccoli when something dawned on me. Matt had just broken up with my sister. What if he let that influence his decision to play in the concert? What if he was worried about seeing Molly again? I buried my face in my hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t think Matt will show up to the concert next month.”

  “Oh, he’ll come.” She smiled at me. “He was pretty excited about it.”

  “I know. But that was before he broke up with Molly. If I were him, the last person I’d want to see is her.”

  She sighed. “It’s time for you to learn to play on your own, anyway.”

  I shook my head. “You know I can’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “Your dad has already promised Mark you’ll be opening.”

  “We have to change it.”

  “If you aren’t ready, we won’t going to force you to do it. But dear, at least work toward it, okay?”

&
nbsp; I promised I would.

  ***

  The drive home wasn’t nearly as eventful as the trip to the cabin. Molly went back and forth between being sullen about Matt and elated over Chris. I successfully tuned her out this time, finished reading my book, then stared out the window, mulling over the events of the past few days.

  By the time we pulled up the drive, I’d convinced myself everything that had happened—meeting Matt, him falling for me, the few touches we’d shared—wasn’t as wonderful as it’d seemed. Things on vacation are much rosier than they are in real life, right?

  ***

  The night of the concert finally arrived, much to my dismay. And I’d agreed to open for Dad. I hadn’t practiced hardly at all—I put it off nearly every day, hoping to hear from Matt. Hoping he’d want to practice and prepare with me. He never called, and I only had the guts to phone him once. He wasn’t home and never returned the call.

  I approached the stage with a ton of bad anticipation. It built up inside my stomach like acid, threatening to burn its way out.

  Putting my guitar next to the mic, I decided to get one last drink before setting up and tuning. And allow myself one last look outside for Matt’s rusty, red truck. It wasn’t in sight, of course. Disappointment flooded through me. Man, getting over this guy was proving to be impossible!

  Returning to my guitar, I set it up and my amp, making sure things were completely in tune and the sound worked well. The room was already filling with excited people. I couldn’t blame them—live concerts had the power to energize everyone within hearing distance. I saw Molly come in and sit next to Cale and Grayden, looking as dark and angry as night. Turns out, Chris hadn’t been terribly interested in seeing her. I sighed to myself, feeling bad for her, but feeling worse because of how things had turned out with Matt.

  The curtain closed and my parents came on stage with me. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, Samara. I know you’ve worked hard for tonight. You’ll be amazing.”

  Guilt flooded through me. “I only practiced a few times over the past month, Dad.”

  He sighed. “Yes, but you’ve worked toward this moment for years.”

  Mom nodded. “You’re realizing all of your goals. Well . . . almost all of them.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I promise we’ll make things up to you—we’ll get you out to New York as soon as your dad has another job.”

  I nodded, then knit my eyebrows, looking at the floor.

  Mom hugged me. “Sam, we promise we’ll help you out—we’ll figure things—”

  I pulled away. “It’s not that. I was . . . I was hoping Matt would show up.” I rushed on. “I mean, I know it’s a long drive and I haven’t heard from him in forever . . . but I . . . he . . .”

  Dad hesitated. “He might show up still, you know.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to expect that to happen, and he’d be here already, anyway.

  I left my guitar in its stand, ready to go, and walked off stage with my parents. Mark, the store owner, opened the curtain, then grabbed the mic.

  “We’ve got such a wonderful treat for you tonight! Samara Oldroyd is opening for her father. This is her first time on stage!” He faced me, clapping his hands. “Let’s give her a great, big welcome!”

  I took my time walking out—one foot slowly in front of the other. I know I was being ridiculous, but I wanted to give Matt all the time in the world to show up.

  He didn’t.

  A lump hit my throat, and I realized how stupid I’d been over the past month. I hadn’t even changed the songs—I only practiced my part. Even though it sounded good still, it wouldn’t be as wonderful as if he’d be up there with me or if I’d redone them to fit a solobetter. How dumb of me to put everything into the chance that he would come! Not even one peep from him to give me that ridiculous expectation.

  Life is never like the movies.

  I swallowed the lump and took the mic from Mark and thanked him, barely able to hear anything. Nervousness, disappointment, and other negative emotions I couldn’t name made it difficult to concentrate. I put the mic in its stand and sat, picking up my guitar.

  I hesitated for a moment, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Mom and Dad beamed up at me, showing their encouragement. Mom mouthed something at me—probably “I love you”—and I smiled in response.

  Taking several deep breaths, I finally pulled the mic close. “Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for . . . for a long time. Years, practically.” I paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “I just needed to develop the courage to sing on my own.” I smiled at the solemn faces in front of me. Okay, Sam, they’re getting bored already. Time to start.

  “The first piece I’ll perform for you is Hold On, by Wilson Phillips. It’s a favorite of mine from the eighties—many of you will know it. In fact, all four of the songs I’ll sing are from that era.”

  A few people cheered. That made me feel a little better.

  I strummed the intro to Hold On, glad I’d practiced it a few times without Matt. It sounded hollow without his backing me up, though. My voice shook when I started.

  I know this pain

  Why do lock yourself up in these chains?

  I’d nearly finished the first verse when I noticed someone at the back of the store pushing through the crowd, trying to reach the stand. I stopped singing, my right hand frozen over the hole, my left holding a chord still. Could it be?

  “Hold on!” Matt’s voice called over the sounds of people muttering.

  The audience chuckled at the pun, turning to see who’d spoken, and a huge smile crossed my face. Matt! He’d come!

  The people parted, giving him room to get to the front. He ran forward and jumped up on the makeshift stage, a smile on his face. “I’m really sorry, Sammy. For the past month. I got side-tracked by . . . by something nowhere near as important as tonight’s concert with you.”

  My face was frozen—my hands hadn’t moved. “You’re here.”

  Mark brought out another chair, and Matt sat, then hooked his guitar up. He grabbed the mic. “Sorry, people. I got a little stuck . . . in traffic.”

  I barely recognized the confusion on everyone’s face. There hadn’t been any traffic coming into town, and they had no idea who this guy was. I couldn’t stop staring at Matt—he was actually there! If I blinked, would he disappear?

  He continued. “Oh, and I’m Matt Clark. The rest of Sammy’s group.” He turned to me and smiled. “Ready?”

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  We started Hold On from the top. My voice didn’t shake this time, singing the first verse alone. And when Matt joined in on the chorus, the audience cheered. He sounded so good! I felt the pain in my heart dissipate as we sang together, and instead of tears of sadness, I nearly started crying tears of joy.

  When we sang the chorus for the second time, Matt turned to me, gazing into my eyes, singing to me.

  Some day somebody’s gonna make you want to

  Turn around and say goodbye

  Until then baby are you going to let them

  Hold you down and make you cry

  Don’t you know?

  Don’t you know things can change

  Things’ll go your way

  If you hold on for one more day yeah

  If you hold on . . .

  We finished to immense applause. I smiled at Matt, blushing as he searched my face, his eyes hungry.

  “I knew it was wrong to date Molly when I first met you, Sammy,” he said, while everyone was clapping still.

  I knit my eyebrows. “You did?”

  He nodded.

  My breath caught in my throat. What was he saying? I was about to ask when he took the mic and introduced the next song—one by the Foreigners. He started the piece, again looking at me instead of the audience. I felt shy suddenly, and looked down, joining in where I was supposed to. My chest started swelling, a feeling somewhat like elation hitting me. Had he truly fallen for me? Wa
s that possible?

  More immense applause when we ended, and again Matt whispered to me. I could barely hear him over the sounds of the people. He spoke quickly.

  “If only I’d found you first, Sammy. Things would’ve been so much different. And like I said, I’ve felt something for you since we first met. Getting to know you only made me fall for you more. You’re genuine. You’re good-hearted. You are the most compassionate person I’ve ever known. And when you talked to me last month, telling me you were going to erase me from your mind, I laughed, but Sammy, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. You had fallen for me, too! But I was dating Molly. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  We looked into each other’s eyes, my heart fluttering. He handed me the mic.

  “We’re going to . . . uh . . . sing again.” I said into it, barely able to concentrate on what I was saying. “It’s a song by The Bracelets. I mean, The Bangles. Another eighties song because music from then is really good.” Matt smiled at me, and I felt myself blushing again.

  I couldn’t believe what he’d just told me.

  People cheered as we sang the chorus together, over and over again, me hitting the high note at the end perfectly.

  Do you feel the same, am I only dreaming?

  Or is this burning an eternal flame?

  Matt talked to me while the audience was cheering.

  “I didn’t want to rush into anything. I wanted to be sure what I was feeling was genuine. After a full month of being away, making sure I really was over Molly, I knew. And Sammy, it was agonizing! I had to force myself not to call you, not to think about you. I wasn’t successful.” He laughed. “I can’t believe we’ve been in the same high school for this long and I never knew you.”

  I laughed too. It was even more funny that I’d never heard of him—him being captain of the football team and everything.