Page 35 of August Lane

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A ugust sat on the floor of the theater dressing room, chin resting on her hands, her eyes fixed on the lopsided Hostess cupcake wilting under the heat of a single birthday candle.

Luke sat across from her, waiting for her to blow it out.

Half their lunch period was gone, but August didn’t care.

If the day ended at this particular moment, she’d be fine. It’d be perfect.

Luke finally broke the spell by asking, “Are you going to make a wish?”

“You haven’t sung to me yet.”

Luke looped his arms around his knees. “That’s for tomorrow, the actual day of your birth. This is birthday eve.”

She took her eyes off the snack cake to grin at him. “Are you one of those monthlong birthday celebration people?”

“No, I just get excited about other people’s special day. Especially my friends.”

August tried not to be disappointed by the category he’d lumped her into. A month ago, she’d have been thrilled to be included in that group. Now she wanted to be something else. Someone special. “What are these mysterious tomorrow plans?”

“It’s a surprise.” He suddenly looked serious. “Unless you don’t like those.”

She normally didn’t, but only because they weren’t usually the good kind. “They’re fine,” she said. “But you don’t have to do anything else. Today was plenty.”

“Today was me stopping by the vending machine on the way here. What kind of birthdays are you used to?”

August swiped a bit of melted frosting and licked it from her fingers. “Nothing at school. I never tell anyone.”

“Why not?” She gave him a Really? look, and he lifted his hands. “Never mind. What about your grandmother? Does she do anything?”

“Breakfast cake,” August said. “It’s a tradition.

She makes my favorite and lets me eat it for breakfast.” She thought about waking up to the smell of buttery sugar and coffee wafting from the kitchen.

Birdie would leave a note on her nightstand that read Remember, you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

“Breakfast cake,” Luke repeated, and it sounded decadent when he said it. Like she was rich and famous. “What’s your favorite?”

“Devil’s food. She does this chocolate cream cheese frosting you could eat with a spoon.”

“That sounds so good.”

“I’ll bring you some,” August said. “Unless that’ll ruin your surprise.”

“I can’t bake,” Luke said. “We’re meeting at Delta Blue, so I’m sure Silas has forks.”

Luke had apologized repeatedly to Silas for showing up drunk last week.

Her uncle had mentioned it in passing, along with a warning to be careful with him.

“Luke’s struggling with something, and I don’t want it blowing back on you.

” But when Luke arrived for their last tutoring session, Silas greeted him with more affection than usual, feeding him dinner and offering use of the pullout sofa in the studio if he ever needed it.

“What time are we meeting tomorrow?” Birdie was taking her out to dinner that evening. She wanted plenty of time to enjoy Luke’s gift.

“How about one? Will that work?”

August nodded and resumed staring at her snack cake again. The icing had dribbled down the sides. She blew out the candle. “I wished for a bicycle.”

“No, you didn’t. But you’re not supposed to tell me anyway.” He paused. “Does Jojo do anything for your birthday?”

August took a bite before answering. “She’ll call me later. Send a present.” She took another bite. It helped to multitask while she talked about her mother—no room for self-pity when you were trying not to choke. “It’s a hard day for her.”

“For her?” Luke looked skeptical.

“She didn’t want to have me,” August said, and was proud of how normal she sounded.

Nothing to see here. Only facts. “Birdie made her. Jojo was only fifteen, so I don’t think there was any expectation that she’d raise me, but she still had to carry me.

Give birth.” August paused and added, “She hates my father.”

“I heard stories about him.”

“Me too.” She had trouble swallowing. A lump had formed in her throat too quickly for her to stop it. “Anyway, I don’t blame her for not wanting to celebrate that day.”

Luke retreated into his thoughts. The bell would ring soon, but she’d ignore it, if needed. They’d both been so good recently, letting things like school bells and curfews dictate their time together. They deserved to be selfish.

“I do,” he said eventually. “I blame her for not wanting to celebrate with you.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s okay if you don’t. I get it. You love her, so…” He trailed off, looked away, and then focused on her again. “You need to make it okay. But I don’t. I can want more for you.”

The bell rang. Luke didn’t move. They watched each other, mutually deciding that today, of all days, they could break the rules.

“She tries to love me,” August said, because she didn’t want Luke to hate Jojo. She didn’t want to choose. “I don’t make it easy,” she continued, but looking at him while she said it was hard. Her fake thorns were gone. He’d plucked them one by one. “For people to love me, I mean. I can be a lot.”

“You’re the easiest person to love I’ve ever met.

” The words slid so quickly from his mouth that it was like he’d been possessed.

No halting half sentences. No long stretches of gathering his thoughts.

He nodded at her journal. “It’s right there on paper.

You see the world in colors I never knew existed.

The rain plays you symphonies. You are so special, August Lane, and I can’t imagine anyone not seeing it. ”

Sometimes kindness could be cruel. There was a difference between lacking something and losing it. August had never been sure which would hurt more, but now she knew. Losing it would be worse. She covered her face with both hands so he wouldn’t see how much the thought scared her.

“Hey. Are you okay?” He knelt at her feet, trying to make eye contact. August launched into his arms. He hugged her, squeezing until her ribs ached and whispered, “Hey.” But it wasn’t a question this time. It was I’m right here. Hold on tight .

Two hours later, August arrived home so giddy from her lunch with Luke, she nearly overlooked the sleek black sedan parked out front.

She hadn’t wished for anything when she blew out the candle, but when Jojo greeted her with a dazzling smile and said, “Happy birthday, Augustina!” it felt as if there had been some other magic in that moment.

There was no other explanation. No one knew that this, her mother’s welcoming arms, was the only birthday gift she’d ever wished for.

August woke to the smell of birthday cake and coffee. But there was also another scent in the kitchen, the spicy bloom of Jojo’s designer perfume. It filled her nose when her mother kissed her forehead before sitting across from her at the kitchen table.

Jojo had gone to bed early, complaining of jet lag.

She’d just returned from Japan, where her albums were so popular people shouted her name on the street.

After ten hours of sleep, she looked rested and attentive, her face stripped of the heavy makeup she usually wore.

Her silk blouse and trousers had been replaced with jeans and a cotton top covered with embroidered daisies.

“Is this Folgers, Mama?” Jojo made a face as she sipped her coffee. “What happened to the good stuff I sent you?”

“Too strong,” Birdie said, and put a piece of cake in front of Jojo.

“I can’t eat sugar this early,” Jojo said. She looked at August’s plate. “But you eat up, birthday girl.”

“It’s a tradition,” August told her, poking at her slice.

“One that’s older than you,” Jojo said. “Carrie and I both had our favorites. Mine was a dream cake. It’s yellow cake, whipped cream, pudding. Every dessert you could want layered into a waking dream.”

“Carrie hated that cake,” Birdie said with a sigh. “She liked strawberry. But not the real kind, the radioactive pink one from a box. I’ll never understand that girl.”

“It’s the predictability,” Jojo said. “Same reason she loves cozy mysteries and wants to move to Florida when Mavis graduates. Killer’s always caught. Weather’s always sunny.”

“Florida has hurricanes,” August pointed out.

“That part’s predictable, too,” Jojo said. “Knowing your storms will have a season is comforting.” She tapped her nails against the table. “I’m sorry to visit unannounced. You probably have plans.”

August thought about Luke’s surprise and said, “I do, but it’s this afternoon. I’m free otherwise.” The moment the words escaped her mouth, she realized she’d forgotten about her dinner with Birdie. She looked at her grandmother, who started wiping down the counter she’d already cleaned.

“If you want to take her out, that’s fine,” Birdie said, and draped the damp towel over the sink to dry. “It’ll be good for y’all to spend some time together.”

“We can all do something,” Jojo said, then looked at August. “What are these afternoon plans?”

“A friend of mine planned a surprise.”

Jojo’s eyebrows arched. “Boyfriend?”

“August doesn’t do that,” Birdie said. She picked up the rag again, wiping over the same spot she’d already cleaned twice.

“Do what?” Jojo stared at her mother’s back. “What is it that August doesn’t do?”

“You know what I mean,” Birdie said. She scrubbed harder, fighting a war against invisible crumbs. “Don’t encourage it.”

“All I did was ask a question.” Jojo moved to Birdie and snatched the rag from her hand. “Could you at least look at me?”

Birdie propped a hand on her hip and glared. “Okay. I’m looking at you. Now what?”

“Mom, it’s fine.” August pushed her half-eaten cake away and tried to capture their attention. “She means dating. I’m not allowed to date.” She looked at Birdie. “It’s not a date.”

“Better not be,” Birdie grumbled. She gave Jojo her back and made a wiping motion. It took her a second to realize her hand was empty. “Where’d I put that cloth?”

Jojo tossed it on the counter and turned to August. “Come to my room. I want to give you something.”

August followed Jojo into Birdie’s sewing room, which now contained the roll-away bed they used for company.

Seeing the cheap white sheets next to Jojo’s flashy luggage was jarring.

August tried to view the room through her mother’s eyes and failed.

Jojo stayed in luxury suites in cities August didn’t know existed.

Her imagination could only reach so far outside the Arcadia city limits.

“Found this in Kyoko,” Jojo said, handing her a slim velvet box.

August sat on the bed and pried it open.

It was a gold pendant with a diamond-studded constellation etched inside.

“I got it at the Star Festival,” Jojo explained.

She took out the necklace and motioned for August to turn around.

She put it on her neck and took a moment to admire it. “Looks good on you.”

“What’s the Star Festival?”

“Oh, something about star-crossed lovers,” Jojo said. “Separated by the Milky Way. They angered some powerful god, and now they can only see each other once a year.” Jojo looked at the clothes spilling from her luggage. “I don’t know why I packed so much stuff.”

“Thank you,” August said. She cradled the pendant in her palm. “I love it.”

Jojo smiled, but it seemed tired, her brief burst of energy already spent. “So, were you telling the truth in there? This afternoon surprise isn’t a date?”

August hesitated. “He didn’t call it that.” But Luke had hugged her yesterday. He thought she was easy to love. “It could be something, though.”

“Well, I’m excited for your something,” Jojo said. “Don’t listen to Birdie. She’s still not over me running around and talking back when I was your age.” She paused. “Younger than you. My God, you’re eighteen. When did that happen?”

She touched August’s face like that would help her understand it.

Then she flashed a retail smile and pointed to the old record player in the corner.

“You ever use that? It was Daddy’s. He used to drive Mama crazy playing Muddy Waters on Sunday.

” Jojo laughed. “Bet she kept those records. That woman throws nothing away.” She flipped her hair back.

“I’m leaving again. Europe. For a year.”

For a second, August thought Jojo was about to invite her to come along. Instead of going to Nashville, August would roam the streets of Paris or Berlin with her mother. But she should have known better. Later, she’d blame Luke’s little cupcake for that pointless burst of hope.

“You won’t hear from me for a while,” Jojo said. “International rates are expensive. And I’ll have to miss your graduation.”

August could feel herself shrinking. Hardening. “Right,” she said. “I get it.”

“I knew you’d understand.” Jojo patted her shoulder. “Now tell me about this boyfriend. Is he cute? He better be if you’re running around behind Birdie’s back.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” August said. “He’s a musician.” She wanted to add that they both were, that her words were his inspiration and the music they made together was better than anything Jojo put on her CDs.

“But is he cute?”

“Yes. And really nice.”

“Oof. Watch out for nice musicians. They’ll treat you well, but we all love the stage more than anything. Nothing else comes close.” She gave August a pointed look. “I don’t want that for you.”

Jojo always said that, but she never explained it, never added anything she did want for August. She never said I want you to be happy, or I want you to achieve your dreams, or I want to slay the beasts that scare you.

“He’s not like that,” August said, and then looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. “I should probably see if Birdie needs help cleaning up.”

Jojo’s lips thinned. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” She stood. “I’ll straighten this up so she doesn’t complain about the mess.”

August watched her snatch up a bra and throw it at her suitcase. It immediately fell to the floor. “We usually go to dinner,” August told her. “I pick a new restaurant at random. It’s another tradition.”

“That sounds fun,” Jojo said, but didn’t offer to join them. August walked out and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, looked down at the necklace, and had the urge to rip it off. The chain was loose and fragile enough to snap with one hand.