“YOUR ENERGY IS much better,” Mrs. Garavuso says as I wipe down my cello and set it back into its case. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Your interpretation in the sarabande was the best I’ve heard from you yet.” She smiles. “I think you’re nearly there for your audition.”
“Don’t jinx me,” I say, heading for the door. I have tons of homework tonight, and it’s already late, but I know Jayla and Nikki are waiting for me downstairs. I’ve been working on being a better friend since Jayla called me out on it, and tonight we’re celebrating a major win for their soccer team.
“It’s not a jinx if it’s true,” Mrs. G calls after me as I bound down her front steps.
Jayla’s car is in the driveway, and both girls wave at Mrs. G when I come out. I slide my cello into the back seat and dive in after it, shivering even from the two seconds it took to walk to the car.
“Hot cocoa,” Nikki says, handing me a cup. It’s from Stacks, my all-time favorite coffee shop for reasons too numerous to count, and I smile when I taste the cinnamon.
“Awww,” I say. “You guys remembered!”
“Like we could ever forget the cinnamon and live to tell about it.”
“No Emily tonight?” I ask.
“I wanted it to be just us,” Jayla says, messing with the radio.
“And Emily had to babysit her brother,” Nikki adds.
“The truth comes out.” Now that their coach knows, Jayla and Emily have been seriously inseparable at school. Jayla even started a new group chat with her in it, even though we mostly still use the old one with just the three of us.
“So where are we headed?” I spin the cup in my hand, letting it warm my fingers.
“Bowling,” Nikki sings.
“Bowling? Why?”
Jayla sighs and I can tell this is a conversation they’ve already had. “Nikki suggested rock climbing, but since we have another game tomorrow and you have your audition coming up, I thought we should do something with a lower risk of hand and foot injuries.”
“Good plan.” I laugh. It feels good to be sitting here with my best friends, not stressing about school or summer programs or nerdy boys that live in my phone or my stepmom’s shop. It’s exactly what I need.
“Plus, it’s black-light night at Bowl-A-Rama,” Nikki says, and I want to question why she has the bowling schedule memorized, but I also don’t want to know.
It takes a while to get there; the bowling alley is halfway across town and we hit every red light on the way. I’m kind of grateful, though. By the time we slide into the parking lot, I’ve completely finished my hot cocoa and part of my history homework.
Nikki and I put our coats down while Jayla pays and gets our shoes. There are not many benefits to us all wearing the same shoe size (7 across the board) except that it’s easy to remember and our footwear choices triple in a pinch.
Jayla drops our shoes on the ground, and we sit on the little set of steps separating the lanes from the snack area to shove our feet inside.
“Ready to lose, ladies?” Nikki laughs, standing up to grab her ball.
“Yes,” I answer at the same time Jayla says, “Never.”
“So when is the big tournament?” I ask. We’re perched on stools at the Bowl-A-Rama snack bar, trying to ignore the overwhelming smell of beer and shoe polish while chowing down on hot wings. My lips are burning, but it’s totally worth it. Bowl-A-Rama wings are undeniably the best in town, and—seeing as how I generally avoid the bowling alley at all costs—also a rare treat.
“The weekend after your audition,” Nikki says, twisting slowly back and forth on her spinny bar stool.
The date of my audition has been hanging over us since I got the official invite last week. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once, a bright red X on the calendar that hopefully marks the beginning of the rest of my life.
“Great, so all of us will be anxious little stress balls for the next month,” Jayla says, but the smirk on her face tells me she doesn’t really mind.
“I’ve got it in the bag,” Nikki says. “Anxious little stress ball is not in my vocabulary.”
“Easy for you to say. You have a whole additional year of high school soccer to earn scholarships and make a name for yourself.” I sigh. “I only have, like, five weeks to nail my repertoire, or it’s game over.”
“You will,” Jayla says, squeezing my wrist. “You’ve been working toward this forever. You’re going to make it happen.”
Nikki grabs another wing. “It’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t work out, anyway.”
I snap my head toward her. “Why would you even say that!”
“Because it’s true. You’re putting waaaay too much pressure on getting into this summer program. It’s not like there aren’t other ones out there. And it’s not like you won’t get into college without it. You have a whole other year left too.”
“But this is my only chance to study with Aleksander Ilyashev before my college audition. I need this. I didn’t even schedule auditions for any other summer programs.”
She shrugs. “Maybe you should have.”
“What the hell, Nikki?” Jayla says. She twists around so fast, I swear to god if these stools weren’t bolted to the floor, she would have spun hers right over.
“What?” Nikki asks. “I think she’ll get in! I’m not saying she won’t. But she’s putting too much pressure on herself. There are way more important things in life. Things can happen outside of her control, and she—”
“She’s right here,” I say, hating the way they’re talking over me. It reminds me too much of Vera and my mom. Like they know better than I do where I should be and what I should be doing. They don’t understand; I wouldn’t be putting this much pressure on myself if I didn’t have to, if I didn’t need that scholarship.
“Sorry,” Nikki says, wiping her fingers. “I just want you to relax a little. Wasn’t that Mrs. G’s whole point? And you don’t have to do the summer program with Aleksander what’s-his-name to get into that school, do you?”
“Ilyashev. And no, but it would really help. Can you imagine his feedback? The edge it would give me when I audition with him for their college program next winter?”
“I know. Winning the Empire Classic would really help me too, give me a leg up going into my final year. Do you know how many college scouts are at that tournament?”
“I can guess,” I say, hating that she knows more about my thing than I know about hers.
“I’m just saying, don’t let one moment define you. Because there are going to be a lot of moments still to come, no matter which way things shake out.”
Nobody says anything after that; we just eat our wings and listen to the sound of balls crashing into pins and people cheering or swearing. When the conversation does pick back up, we switch gears to safer topics—complaining about school, talking about how great Emily is, and joking about how Nikki and Ty are finally together but still aren’t being super public about it.
But Nikki’s words keep buzzing in my head, and I wonder if she’s right. It doesn’t feel like she is, though. For the first time, it feels like maybe she just doesn’t get it. Like, at all. And it’s weird to feel like that about Nikki, and maybe a little about Jayla too.