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She studies the makeup. She knows enough about theater to recognize what it is. “Were you and Hoshiko working on something for school?”

“Um…” For a moment I think about making up a story, but if our showcase is successful this week, I’ll have to come clean about the musical anyway.

“Actually, that’s a project I’ve been working on…for the spring musical.” I hand her a folder and tell her about the info I pulled together for the administration before launching into the performance. Her head jerks up when I get to the after-school rehearsals.

“You’ve been working on this musical? And you said those were choir rehearsals. You were lying about that?”

My breathing grows shallow, but I don’t deny it. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you everything. Miss Sahnididgive us permission to use the space and we were rehearsing songs, but they weren’t for choir. I knew you and Dad wouldn’t agree to me getting involved in anything after school when I was still grounded, but I just…I couldn’t give up on the musical, Mom. I had to see it through.” I’m weirdly weepyand defiant at the same time. I knot my hands in front of me. “I’ve been directing the showcase numbers and I think with them we have a chance of convincing the administration to change their minds. Please try to understand.”

The last words come out as a plea. I expect Mom’s eyebrows to furrow together like they do when a contractor tells her they need to reschedule, but her expression stays impassive. She flips through the information in the folder and looks back up at me.

“How many students are in this showcase?”

“Twenty-five.”

“And you’re directing them? And you put together all of this information on budgets and musical licensing?” she asks quietly.

I nod and bite my lip. Is she bottling up her anger so she can explode after thoroughly questioning me? She never yells, but there’s a first time for everything.

Instead, she sighs. “I hate that you lied to me. But…maybe I can almost understand why you felt the need to. If I’m being honest, I’m impressed that you found a way to work at the store, keep up with school, and run these rehearsals. It shows you’ve found a way to create some balance in your life.”

“Really?”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Yeah. If you’re successfully juggling that many things, then you’re definitely becoming more responsible. So, you’re not in trouble again, at least not with me.Butno more lying, okay?”

“Okay,” I say immediately. I rock back on my heels. “Um, in that case…”

“Riley.”Her voice is sharper this time.

I hold out a hand. “Don’t freak out. But Miss Sahni was so impressed with the showcase that she’s offered me a position running rehearsals for the junior high show choir and assisting with other tasks.” I can’t help smiling at this. “It hasn’t started yet, but it sounds super fun.”

“Wow,” Mom says. She puts down the folder and pulls me into a hug. “Congratulations, that’s wonderful. So you want to accept the position?”

I nod, my cheek rubbing against her shoulder.

“Okay. Can I assume your father knows nothing about any of this?”

I nod again, scared of what she’s about to say.

She pulls away and studies me. “Then that’s the next thing you need to do. Particularly if you’re planning to quit working at the store, which I have to assume you are.”

I stare at the floor. “Yeah, I’m planning to quit,” I whisper. Thoughts of Nathan and our terrible conversation at homecoming last night return. Telling Dad might be even worse, if that’s possible.

“Then I’ll drive you over now so you can tell him. And no, a text won’t do it. He needs to hear it from you.”

It’s a somber ride to Dad’s apartment. Dread pools in my stomach at the thought of talking to him about all this. Just last Sunday I was there with my friends, hanging out and watching Monty Python, and he seemed so happy to have all of us there. I hate having to ruin all the goodwill we’ve built up over the last weeks.

Dad’s expression morphs from surprise to fear when he finds Mom and me at his door. “What happened?”

“Riley has some things to share with you,” Mom saysgently. She gives him a sad smile, the closest I’ve seen to kindness between them, and takes a step back. “I wanted to give you some time to talk. Maybe you can give her a ride back to the house when you’re done.” She gives me a meaningful look and heads back to the car.

Dad beckons me inside, clearly still on edge. “This is all sounding very dire, so let me have it.”

We sit down in the living room and I repeat the conversation I had with Mom about bringing back the musical and directing the showcase. If anything, Dad is even less concerned about it than Mom.

“I see why your mom wanted you to come clean about the real reason for the rehearsals, but I don’t really care. Driving without a license is one thing, but staying after school to sing? Your mom and I should be grateful to have that be our biggest problem.” He laughs. “I appreciate you telling us, though. Do you want a drink? I’ve got the latest flavor of Mountain Dew in the fridge.”

For some reason, a comment from Nathan weeks ago pops into my head.