Page 107 of August Lane
“Mom! Jojo! I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.” Jojo went to her room and grabbed her suitcase. She started packing, throwing linen and silk into a messy pile. “Don’t ever apologize for being right. I’m never here. I don’t belong and I should stop pretending to.”
“Yes, you do.” August dug deep, trying to find the version of herself that her mother liked. The funny, interesting girl on the phone calls. “Birdie’s just—she didn’t mean what she said. You know how she gets about this stuff.”
“I do know.” Jojo clicked the suitcase shut. “Better than you. She’llnever forgive me for any of it. Theo. Having a baby.” She looked past August, at the wall. Her voice had changed, anger smoothing into detachment. “I was supposed to die here with her. Now she’s got you.”
This was like a nightmare August used to have. She was standing next to a tiny crate, and Jojo tried to shove her inside, claiming it was a game. “You’ll like it” her mother cooed with a nail and hammer in her hands. August tried to protest, explain what games she actually liked, but she couldn’t speak. Silent bubbles floated from her mouth, hovering before they burst in the air.
“I’m not staying here,” August told Jojo, because she’d stopped having that dream a long time ago, once she started writing. “Graduation is in a few months, and then… I…”
Jojo raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”
August touched her throat, fingered the necklace Jojo had given her. “I can come with you.”
If rejection had a sound, it was the tortured gasp that escaped her mother’s lips. “That’s your career plan? Freeloading? Taking vacations on my dime?”
“I’m a singer,” August told her, because Luke was in her head egging her on, saying she was born for it. “I thought I could… shadow you or something. Meet your people.”
Jojo gripped her suitcase with both hands. “I’m gonna tell you what I wish someone had told me before I let them put that crown on my head. This isyourlife. It’s happening right now and it’s the only one you’ll ever have. Stop asking permission. Don’t wait to be saved. Fight hard and fight dirty until they’re afraid to take anything from you.”
Jojo hugged her on the way out. August hugged her back even though she wanted to shove her mother away and rip the necklace from her throat like the spoiled child Jojo had reduced her to. The front door opened and closed. The house was silent. Eventually, August returned to her bedroom and was surprised to find Birdie still there. She sat on the bed, hands folded, calmer than before.
“There you are.” She looked past August, into the hallway. “Alone?”
“She’s gone,” August said. “Re-abandoned me before she left.”
Birdie furrowed her brow. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”
“She hates me,” August said. She kept her eyes on the floor. The way she’d sided with her mother against Birdie made her burn with shame. “Maybe that’s why I’m like this. Gullible. Trusting all the wrong people. I just want someone who can look at me and not hate me.”
Birdie touched her back. “I don’t hate you.”
“You lost her because of me,” August said, finally meeting her eyes. “I’m what she runs from.”
Birdie clasped August’s hand and closed her eyes. August jerked away. “Don’t pray for me.”
“I willalwayspray for you,” Birdie said. “I will put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your body. I’ll protect you no matter what.” She grabbed August’s hand again and pressed it to her chest. “Because you’re mine. I love you because you’re mine.”
August hugged her, buried her face in Birdie’s neck. Birdie rubbed her back, shushing and mumbling comfort. “I’ve got you, baby” she whispered. “My little Johanna.”
Homecoming was a blur. Luke could only remember random moments, bits of conversations he couldn’t be sure were accurate. He remembered talking to Jessica about August. He remembered waking up the next morning, feeling like he’d done the right thing, only to find out he’d done the opposite. Somehow defending her had put a fresh target on her back. By Monday morning, the entire senior class had lined up with darts.
“It was Richard” was the rumor during first period.
“Wasn’t she messing with Luke?” someone asked at lunch.
“It’s Coach Ramirez” everyone decided by the end of the day. “That’s why he got fired last month.”
Luke tried to argue with them. He did try. But it was like telling little kids that it was impossible for Santa to float down a chimney.You just don’t believe in magictheir faces told him.Don’t ruin our fun.
An apology wouldn’t fix things, but he still owed it to her. He tried to call, but no one answered, so he borrowed Silas’s car and drove to her house. He didn’t want to show up unannounced but there was a tickingclock inside him, counting down to something he didn’t want to identify. He only knew it grew louder the longer they were apart.
The house was smaller than he’d imagined. All the Lane women had big personas, so he’d envisioned something sprawling and picturesque, not a skinny white shotgun that looked like something you’d find down in New Orleans. August’s car was parked out front, but when the door opened it was Birdie Lane glaring down at him from the porch.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Luke—Lucas Randall, ma’am. I’m here to see August.”
