SKYLAR
How is it possible that I’m late again?
I’d even rushed this morning, wanting to get a few minutes alone with Cody. Four days with the band had filled me with optimism. They sang, worked, laughed and finished the record I thought was a lost cause only four months ago. It was my father’s best work, and I already had the sketch of my dress for next year’s Grammy awards.
The parking lot was packed, several cars even double parked like they had during Cody’s match. Had I missed an announcement? Was there some event going on at school this morning?
I shut my door, clicked the lock and only made it four steps before chaos erupted. Doors slammed, photos flashed and two girls with ’80s hair and long red fingernails shoved microphones into my face.
“Skylar, how long has your father been sick?”
“Did you know he was dying?”
“Why did he stop treatment?”
“Is he trying holistic medicines?”
“Where will he be buried?”
The words jumbled around in my head, no more coherent than the splotches of light now obscuring my vision. I tried to move, but they’d pressed up against me, body odor and perfume singeing my nose as they continued to ram me with questions I had no answers for.
I covered my face, ready to sink into the pit that suddenly formed at my feet, but two strong arms stopped my collapse. I was cocooned, pressed against a solid chest as he pushed our way through the crowd. I focused on our feet moving forward, past the sidewalk, up two steps.
“It’s okay, Skylar. I’ve got you.” He smelled like citrus and clean linens waving in the breeze.
I clutched him tighter, basking in the safety of his arms, although they held no familiarity. These weren’t the arms of the boy I’d dreamed about last night. It wasn’t his smell that pushed away the noise and stench of my life falling apart. It was Blake.
He pushed us through double doors where, thankfully, their lies and spiteful commentary didn’t follow. I was in a dream. I had to be. Reporters couldn’t be here; they couldn’t do this. There were laws.
Blake pulled me into an empty room and forced me to look at him. “Hey, you need to calm down. Breathe, okay? Like this.”
His mouth opened as he filled his lungs with air and then blew out. He did it three more times until I found myself copying the motion.
My breath returned, but their lies wouldn’t stop assaulting me.
Stop treatment, holistic medicine, buried.
“Skylar?” Blake’s voice brought me back to the present. We were in Ms. Stacey’s art class. Jars of paint were scattered on the tables and six easels stood ready by the back wall.
Two male teachers rushed past the open classroom door speaking into walkie-talkies. Moments later, threatening yells filtered through the air as they shouted at the reporters.
My eyes flashed to Blake’s. “Does everyone know?”
“Yeah. He’s trending on Twitter.”
All of the pretense, all of the extra work. All the time put into protecting our secret was for nothing. They knew. My heart caved and my feet would have followed without Blake reaching out to steady me. He cradled me in his arms again, but all I could think of was finding a way to fix this. There had to be a way.
With shaky hands I pulled out my phone, detangling myself from Blake’s hug. My dad’s manager was on speed dial, but I’d never had to call him before. He picked up in one ring.
“I’ve got a security detail coming now, kiddo,” Carl said without even a hello. “What they did was illegal, and we are absolutely pressing charges.”
“How? How did they find out?” Anger was starting to replace the shock, and I could stand straighter, my feet getting firmer under me.
“We think an aid at the hospital. We’re investigating it now.” He sounded rushed like he was running while trying to talk.
“Tell me it’s not true. Tell me he didn’t stop the treatments.”
Silence. Not the silence of a person thinking. The silence of a person not wanting to be the one to tell me the truth. My chest constricted. I reached for the wall, trying to steady myself, and felt flesh instead. I gripped Blake tightly while the searing heat of disbelief filled my lungs. “Carl…please. Tell me it’s not true.”
“The team will be there in minutes. We’ll discuss everything tonight.” His voice was soft, but nothing about it soothed me.
The world became a mass of lights and colors all blended into a blob with Blake’s face at the center. I swayed. Blinked twice.
“What do you need me to do?” Blake’s typical bravado was replaced by panic.
I dropped my phone into my purse and forced my eyes to focus. I needed to get control before the other students discovered us and recorded some video of me falling apart. I pulled calm from the depths of soul and brushed the hair out of my face.
“I’m good. Thank you. They took me off guard.”
Blake exhaled and dragged his hand through his hair. “Geez. I thought you were going to pass out.”
Outside the door, noise, bodies and chaos filled the hallway. Teachers were shouting to get to class, and I knew any minute this room would be filled with gawkers.
“Don’t worry. Ms. Stacey doesn’t have a first period. We’re fine in here.” Blake shook his head, scratched it and looked at me again. “So, you’re Donnie Wyld’s daughter. Like really his daughter?”
This was exactly why I didn’t want people to know. I was back to being this strange apparition. A celebrity, but not really. I squared my shoulders and tried to prepare myself for the change.
“Does Cody know?” he asked.
Cody. I couldn’t think of him right now. It was all too much. “Yeah. He knows.”
Over the loud speaker, Principal Rayburn called my name to the office. I stepped toward the exit, telling myself I could do it. I could walk these halls without breaking down.
Blake stopped me. “Do you want me to go with you? I can keep the vultures away.”
I nodded because I knew he could. If there was one thing Blake did well, it was control the student body.