off now. Only, I don’t have my car. My mom was going to pick me up.”
“I can give you a ride,” Trent offered. Then he raised an eyebrow. “If you’re not afraid of my driving.”
I called Mom and she said it would be okay, although she seemed a little hesitant. “Do you really have to stay out so late?”
“Well, the place closes at twelve,” I explained. “And Trent has to clean up before he can lock up.”
Mom consented. Lucky for me, she hated seeing me mope around the house, picking at my Conner wounds. Also, Mom liked Trent. She thought it was sweet that he was so protective of Wendy. And she was a lot like Nina. She thought it was romantic that Trent had rescued me from Aspen’s torment that day in class.
At Flips, I had a blast. It was fun walking in with Trent, having people glance up from their conversations and stare. They were beginning to really believe we were a couple. Imagine it, Megan The Mormon and Trent The Party Guy, a pair.
No way!
Trent bought me a soda and we played air hockey and I beat him in skee-ball and I was having a blast. But then it was time for Trent to go backstage and set up with his band. None of my friends were around. Suddenly, I felt anxious, as though I was being abandoned in a foreign country.
I was going to be alone. That wouldn’t have been so bad. I definitely could have dealt with it, alone. Only did it have to be in front of every cool person from school?
Trent got me settled into a table up front. “Don’t leave,” he said before going backstage, seeming to notice my anxiety. “Seriously, I really want you to hear us.”
“I won’t leave,” I promised.
Then I sat alone with my root beer, playing with the straw. Trent had hooked me up with a great table. I didn’t want to lose it. It was right near the stage. But I felt conspicuous being all alone. How long would I have to sit here before the show started?
“Hey, Megan, can we sit with you?”
I looked up to see Brooke Hunter and a group of her friends.
“Sure,” I said, probably a bit over-eagerly. I didn’t really know Brooke all that well, and I sure didn’t know her friends, but I was elated I wouldn’t have to sit alone any longer.
“This is a great table,” Brooke said with a smile. “We usually have to sit in the back. Is Baggage playing tonight?”
It was weird. Brooke asked about them as though I was an authority on Trent and his band. I played along, having fun. Why not? It wasn’t everyday I was assumed the-one-to-know about a cool, hot guy and his band. “Yep,” I said, real casual-like. “Baggage is playing.”
There were two other bands that played first. They both only played a few songs, though. Baggage was the main event.
When Trent came out on stage my heart did some sort of weird flip thing. He gave me a smile, and in return I blushed bright red for him, and gave him a big, dopey grin the size of Texas. Baggage played their most popular songs first. It was cool. I felt proud, as though Trent really was my boyfriend. Okay, I knew he wasn’t, but no one else did. As unlikely as it seemed, everyone believed the hot guy on the stage was my true “significant other.”
Once everyone finally stopped applauding, Trent made an announcement. “This next song is really special. And a really special person wrote it. She’s sitting at that table right over there.” Trent pointed at my table.
I stared at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about?
Trent only smiled.
Boy, he had a great smile, but my stomach knotted. What was going on?
The music started. It was my song, The Road Home. Trent’s band was playing my song! Whoa! And it was beautiful . I sat motionless, stunned. Through the whole thing, I didn’t breathe. I just sat, listening.
When
“I can give you a ride,” Trent offered. Then he raised an eyebrow. “If you’re not afraid of my driving.”
I called Mom and she said it would be okay, although she seemed a little hesitant. “Do you really have to stay out so late?”
“Well, the place closes at twelve,” I explained. “And Trent has to clean up before he can lock up.”
Mom consented. Lucky for me, she hated seeing me mope around the house, picking at my Conner wounds. Also, Mom liked Trent. She thought it was sweet that he was so protective of Wendy. And she was a lot like Nina. She thought it was romantic that Trent had rescued me from Aspen’s torment that day in class.
At Flips, I had a blast. It was fun walking in with Trent, having people glance up from their conversations and stare. They were beginning to really believe we were a couple. Imagine it, Megan The Mormon and Trent The Party Guy, a pair.
No way!
Trent bought me a soda and we played air hockey and I beat him in skee-ball and I was having a blast. But then it was time for Trent to go backstage and set up with his band. None of my friends were around. Suddenly, I felt anxious, as though I was being abandoned in a foreign country.
I was going to be alone. That wouldn’t have been so bad. I definitely could have dealt with it, alone. Only did it have to be in front of every cool person from school?
Trent got me settled into a table up front. “Don’t leave,” he said before going backstage, seeming to notice my anxiety. “Seriously, I really want you to hear us.”
“I won’t leave,” I promised.
Then I sat alone with my root beer, playing with the straw. Trent had hooked me up with a great table. I didn’t want to lose it. It was right near the stage. But I felt conspicuous being all alone. How long would I have to sit here before the show started?
“Hey, Megan, can we sit with you?”
I looked up to see Brooke Hunter and a group of her friends.
“Sure,” I said, probably a bit over-eagerly. I didn’t really know Brooke all that well, and I sure didn’t know her friends, but I was elated I wouldn’t have to sit alone any longer.
“This is a great table,” Brooke said with a smile. “We usually have to sit in the back. Is Baggage playing tonight?”
It was weird. Brooke asked about them as though I was an authority on Trent and his band. I played along, having fun. Why not? It wasn’t everyday I was assumed the-one-to-know about a cool, hot guy and his band. “Yep,” I said, real casual-like. “Baggage is playing.”
There were two other bands that played first. They both only played a few songs, though. Baggage was the main event.
When Trent came out on stage my heart did some sort of weird flip thing. He gave me a smile, and in return I blushed bright red for him, and gave him a big, dopey grin the size of Texas. Baggage played their most popular songs first. It was cool. I felt proud, as though Trent really was my boyfriend. Okay, I knew he wasn’t, but no one else did. As unlikely as it seemed, everyone believed the hot guy on the stage was my true “significant other.”
Once everyone finally stopped applauding, Trent made an announcement. “This next song is really special. And a really special person wrote it. She’s sitting at that table right over there.” Trent pointed at my table.
I stared at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about?
Trent only smiled.
Boy, he had a great smile, but my stomach knotted. What was going on?
The music started. It was my song, The Road Home. Trent’s band was playing my song! Whoa! And it was beautiful . I sat motionless, stunned. Through the whole thing, I didn’t breathe. I just sat, listening.
When
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