Page 4 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

“By the time I walked on stage for my big debut, I was so nervous that I threw up and peed my pants. I puked all over the first row of the auditorium, right where the principal was sitting. It smelled weirdly like a peppermint, those red and white kind. The kid’s breath at the high school brought me right back there. ”

“Is that why your family calls you Tink?” Avah smacks her palm on the table, and a few random label bits go flying. “Because you tinkled on stage?”

“No. Also, not the point. The point is I freaked out at the rehearsal and bolted. I was a total coward in front of everyone. In front of Bryan. I went home, baked cookies, and binge-watched the latest season of the Real Housewives.”

“Which Housewives?’ Molly asks like that makes a difference.

“Salt Lake City.”

“Good choice for delusion and drama.” Avah shakes her head. “But, girl, that sucks. ”

“I suck,” I counter as I squeeze shut my eyes then force myself to open them again.

“I texted Bryan later and made up an excuse about being sick. I told him to find someone else to emcee. It’s stupid.

I practiced. I had notes to guide me. Then one whiff of mint, and I’m eight years old again, covered in vomit and humiliation.

I can’t tell Sloane the story of my bucket list failure.

Me being pathetic won’t bring a smile to her face. ”

Avah cocks her head. “The part about puking and tinkling at the same time might. It’s kind of adorable, Tink .”

“Do not call me Tink. You know I hate that nickname.”

“We need to come up with something else to help you.” Molly looks out toward the crowded bar. “Iris had luck with karaoke night here. You have a gorgeous voice and?—”

“I know what I want to try.” I roll my lips together because I did not intend to say that bit out loud. “It isn’t karaoke night at Tony’s, but I’m not ready to share.”

They both lean forward. “Share anyway,” Avah says.

For one brief moment, I think about holding my ground, but cave as always. “Bryan isn’t just an English teacher. He’s also involved in Skylark’s community theater. Kind of a Renaissance man, you know?”

“Short like they were back then, too,” Avah teases.

“He’s not short,” I argue. “If I wear flats, we’re almost the same height.”

“Stop distracting her.” Molly puts a hand on Avah’s arm. “Keep going, Taylor.”

“He’s directing the winter play.” I swallow back the wispy tendrils of panic that curl around my chest and announce, “I’m thinking about trying out.”

There’s a commotion on the other side of the bar, and I look over to see my idiot brother and his friends lined up with a shotski—four shot glasses attached to an old ski that allows multiple people to do a shot at the same time. Eric isn’t one of them, but I’m sure he’s part of the so-called fun .

I might have spent my time during those college hockey games with my nose in a book, but I heard things. My mom would talk to the other mothers in hushed tones about Eric’s wild antics and lack of parental guidance.

Toby has cleaned up his act from the rowdy partying of his youth.

He’s a dedicated firefighter and coaches the high school hockey team.

Still, I worry. After Mom died, we each managed the grief in our own way, but he went off the rails for a few months with reckless behavior and questionable choices.

I don’t like to think that some wild friend from his past—especially a manwhore with a heart—is going to tempt him into trouble again.

“You might have to give my brother a ride home,” I say as I turn back to Avah and Molly.

“You’re going to try out for the winter play at the community theater?” Molly repeats back slowly, ignoring my awkward attempt to change the subject.

“You couldn’t handle announcing at the high school talent show,” Avah reminds me.

“I could have if it wasn’t for that peppermint.”

“So you’re going to insist on a mint moratorium?” Molly asks.

“I won’t need to.” I grab my purse, reach inside, and pull out a small bag of mints. “I’ve been eating a few every day to desensitize myself to the trigger. I found that tip online.”

“And if it’s on the internet, it must work.” Avah shakes her head.

I know they don’t believe in me. Heck, I’m not sure I believe in me. In the face of their doubt and my brother’s gentle teasing about all the ways I’m awkward, it would be so easy to pull out and forget all of it.

“I can do this.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. “I refuse to be the same scaredy wimp I’ve always been. You want me to take action, and I’m going to. Sloane asked us to do this bucket list challenge for a reason, and I volunteered for a reason. I want to get over my… ”

“Glossophobia,” Avah supplies.

When Molly gives her a strange look, Avah shrugs. “It’s a fear of public speaking.”

I nod.

“We do believe in you.” Molly reaches across the table to grab my hand once more.

I’m not sure if she means it, but I’ll take all the words of encouragement I can get. I turn to Avah, expecting a snarky response, but she places her hand on Molly’s.

“We fucking believe in you. You’ve got this, Tay. And we’ll be here to kick your ass if you think about chickening out.”

Molly chokes out a laugh. “Great pep talk, Avs.”

“It’s a gift,” our friend replies.

I would tell her I’m going to hold her to the promise, but I already know she’s serious, and so am I. Time to get this bucket list challenge checked off my life list. For Sloane. And more importantly, for me.