The Sound of Us

Chapter Twelve. “Learning to Fly” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Learning to Fly” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

SKYE

“You’re just giving up?” Isla’s voice echoed through my now empty bedroom. “You’re not even going to wait to see if Noah calls?”

I zipped up my last suitcase, trying to ignore Isla glaring from the doorway.

“I’m being practical,” I said. “It’s been six days, Iz. I know I messed up on air. I read the story about the drunk driver, and it took me back to my accident and I just lost it. You should have heard my rant.”

“Why didn’t you just explain? I’m sure they would have understood.”

“I didn’t want special treatment. I didn’t accept it during tryouts—”

“Wait.” Her eyes widened. “You were offered special treatment in tryouts?”

“I was offered accommodations because of the accident—they were willing to waive some of the drills because I hadn’t had much time to train—but I turned them down. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. I wanted to earn my place fairly. I never wanted to worry that someone might take it away.”

“You’re a better person than me,” she said. “When I see an opportunity, I just grab it and deal with the consequences later.”

“I can figure things out when I get back to Denver.” I shoved my team sweatshirt into my carry-on bag. “I’ll work at the local library for a year, save money by living at home, and take the time to focus on training. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get a place on one of the local university DIII teams next year.”

“It won’t be Havencrest,” she said. “What about your dream of becoming a journalist? You could have played for a DI team, and you chose to come here instead.”

My mind turned back to the conversation I’d had with my dad when it was time to choose a college. He’d wanted me to go to the University of Connecticut, which had produced the most players drafted in the WNBA and would give me the best chance of going pro. In an unprecedented act of defiance, I told him I wanted to go to Havencrest. Not only had they offered me a place in their prestigious journalism program, but they had also offered me a full ride. UConn had only offered me a one-year scholarship that I would have to reapply for each year and a place in their English program. Standing my ground had been the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I wasn’t a naturally gifted athlete. I’d had to work damn hard to get to be selected, and chances were high that among the best of the best, I was going to fail. I needed a backup plan, and Havencrest was my best option.

“Skye?” Isla shook my shoulder, pulling me out of the memory. “I think you just need a good night’s sleep and then you’ll realize it’s not over until it’s over. Why don’t I make you a nice warm cup of milk with a little diphenhydramine and doxylamine mixed in?”

“I wasn’t really ready to come back,” I told her. “I still can’t sleep. I have nightmares. I can’t walk properly. I need more time to process and heal.”

My words didn’t ring true, even to myself. I didn’t want to leave. Over the last week, I’d had a tiny taste of an exciting new life that didn’t revolve around the strict training and eating habits required of a top athlete and I wanted more. My days didn’t start at 5:00 A.M. and my nights didn’t end at 9:00 P.M. I didn’t have to count calories or pounds, measure protein, or take fistfuls of supplements. I’d experienced a new side of life, and the longer I stayed, the harder it would be to go.

“I’ll cover your rent.” Isla’s voice wavered. “Or I’ll convert the dining room and take in another roommate. Or I can sleep on the couch, and we can bring in two people.”

“Babe…” My voice broke. Leaving Isla was the hardest part of going home. “You can’t cover everything, and I won’t let you.” I pulled my suitcase out into the hallway. I’d found a last-minute discounted ticket for later that evening and I wanted to be ready to go. “Where’s my phone?”

“Oh. No.” She slapped her forehead with her hand, overexaggerating each word as if she were in a middle school play. “Your phone is lost. You can’t leave. I’ll take your suitcase back to your room.”

“Iz,” I sighed. “Where did you hide it?”

“Microwave.” She gestured to the kitchen. “I thought about cooking it but then the place would burn down, and I don’t have insurance.”

I grabbed my phone and checked my notifications. Three missed calls from the station and a message from Noah asking me to call him right away. My hand went to my mouth, and I tried to push down the hope that swelled in my chest.

“What is it?” Iz froze in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Noah called.” I was shaking, trembling, trying to keep myself together as a tidal wave of emotion crashed over me. Hope got bigger and bigger and wouldn’t go away. “Would he call three times to tell me I didn’t get the position?”

Her hands found her hips. “Was he a dick?”

“No. He was a really nice guy.”

“Then he’s not calling with bad news. You need to call him back.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I want it so bad, Iz, I don’t think I can handle finding out for real that I didn’t get it.”

“I knew all that crap about wanting to go back to Denver was bullshit.” She held out her hand for the phone. “If you don’t call him, I will.”

“I’m not ready.” My finger hovered over Noah’s number.

“You can never be ready for the big moments,” Isla said. “That’s why you just have to dive in.”

“Welcome to WJPK!”

Siobhan stood on a chair and introduced herself to the new crop of volunteers and interns gathered in the station’s lounge on Friday morning, only two days after I’d received the call from Noah. We’d been treated to muffins and coffee as we mingled with the more experienced volunteers and show hosts. I still hadn’t been able to get my head around the fact that Noah had picked me. I was staying at Havencrest. I hadn’t failed.

After running through the basic rules of the station, Siobhan introduced us to the paid employees, who, along with Noah, reported directly to an elected board of directors. “They run station, but you are its heart,” she said. “You’ll be involved in everything from promotions to sound engineering and from research to production under the supervision of the senior volunteers: me, Nick,”—she gestured to a tall, lanky dude with a thatch of dark hair—“and…” Siobhan trailed off when Dante walked in, sending a wave of whispers through the room. “… Dante. Fresh from his coffin. Thanks for joining us.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up until the sun set.”

Dante didn’t miss a beat. “I smelled fresh blood.”

One of the female volunteers giggled and he rewarded her with a grin.

“Nick does all our jazz and blues shows,” Siobhan continued. “I handle all our news programming, and Dante does our highest-rated show, Dante’s Darkness . He’s never been around the station during the day. I personally think he might be a vampire, but Nick spotted him once in an economics class in full daylight and he wasn’t going up in smoke. I’m still not sure about the fangs, but I’m sure by the end of the year, at least four or five of you will be able to enlighten us.”

Ouch. There was some bad blood between Siobhan and Dante, but if it affected him, he had the best damn poker face I’d ever seen.

“We have two new interns this year, Skye and Chad.” She waved a vague hand in my direction and then pointed out a tall blond dude dressed in a rugby shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. “They’ll be with us until the end of the year.”

Siobhan’s little speech reminded me that my internship was a reprieve and not a permanent solution. Between the scholarship and my job at Buttercup, I would have just enough money to make it to the end of the year, but I would need a kick-ass summer job and some serious financial assistance to fund my junior year. Rinse and repeat for senior year.

“Dante is our internship mentor this year.” Her gaze cut to Dante, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his delectable chest. “If you are interested in our next round of internships, he’s the man to ask.”

“Internship mentor?” Dante’s head jerked up. “I thought you handled the interns?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Her tone was nothing short of vicious. “I thought Noah would have told you since you guys are so close. Jade just handed in her notice so I’m handling programming as well as the volunteers until he hires a new programming director. You’re handling the interns, making sure they meet their internship criteria, finding things for them to do, liaising with the journalism department…”

“I’m going to talk to Noah.” Dante brushed past me and stormed out of the room.

Nick stepped in to tell us stories about on-air disasters, production nightmares, and past volunteers. He was laid-back and easygoing with a wicked sense of humor and he quickly eased the tension in the room. I had a feeling we were going to get along well.

After Siobhan had given us a quick tour, I went to see Noah to sign the scholarship paperwork, but as I approached his office, I heard angry voices coming through the open door.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Dante grumbled. “Find someone else to look after them.”

“We talked about this. I don’t have anyone else,” Noah said, his voice strained. “You spent two years working full time with me before you decided to get your finance degree. You know how I like things done. Siobhan is already putting in way more than her ten hours a week. I can’t ask her to take on more.”

“What about Nick?”

Noah’s voice dropped to a low murmur and Dante sighed. “I’ll take the guy but not Skye.”

“That makes no sense,” Noah said. “They’re both in the same program. They both must meet the same requirements. Their work will be different depending on their interests and abilities, but that’s minor. What’s going on? Is she—?”

“No. It’s nothing like that.”

I knew I should walk away. It wasn’t nice to eavesdrop, especially on a conversation that involved me, but I was frozen in place. This was my childhood nightmare all over again.

I don’t want her. We were supposed to get a boy.

Six weeks after I’d been adopted, on my way downstairs for a glass of water, I overheard Dad arguing with Mom in the kitchen. I was six years old and had already been through four foster homes. Traumatized by my last experience, I’d found an escape in the books my social worker had given me one Christmas.

We need to send her back.

She can’t even throw a ball.

I want a kid who has a chance of making it to the NBA and living my dream.

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Nick was behind me, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” he said. “I’m not sure what’s going on with Dante.”

My face flamed at being caught out. “Noah asked me to come and sign some papers after the tour and I—”

“Skye?” Noah called out. “Come on in.”

Nick followed me into the office, his comforting hand still on my shoulder. “If you need someone to train the interns,” he said, letting them know we’d overheard the conversation, “I’m happy to help out.”

Dante’s gaze dropped to Nick’s hand and his jaw tightened. “It’s a timing issue. I’ll work it out.”

His explanation only partly made sense. He could have told Noah he could only manage one intern, but he’d specifically named me. I could only think of one reason—two, if I counted both the kiss and the drunk dial. Maybe he thought I had some kind of fangirl crush.

“If you can’t work it out, then Nick can help.” Noah met Dante’s blank expression with a smile. “Problem solved.”

“Dude.” Nick raised his fist and Dante gave him a bump on the way out, but didn’t even look in my direction.

Noah’s phone rang and he gestured for us to give him a minute. Alone in the hallway, I went to find Dante.

“Dante. Wait.” I caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs outside the station. “I overheard you with Noah. If this is about what happened at the frat house and I said something that made you uncomfortable… I’m really sorry. I’ve never had that much to drink, and I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t mean whatever I said. I’m not interested in you that way. You’re not my type. I want to keep this professional—”

He held up a hand, a pained expression on his face, and his words in the office became a mantra in my head that wouldn’t let go.

Not Skye. Not Skye. Not Skye.

I stumbled back, reaching blindly behind me for the door handle, the urge to flee almost overwhelming. It was my father all over again.

I don’t want her.

My hand found the handle and I yanked open the door. I looked back over my shoulder. Dante was gone.