Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(7)

“Not important,” lied Audre. She paused, waiting for Eva to ask her about it. Her daughter was class president, so she had to assume she was giving a speech, right? Nothing.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” said Eva. But to Audre, it sounded like she was phoning it in. Her mom used to be in the front row of every recital, presentation, and debate team competition, cheering the loudest.

Almost immediately, Eva shifted her attention to Shane. “Why does your T-shirt say FLIP IT AND REVERSE IT? That’s a Missy Elliott reference, right?”

He grinned, looking proud. “It’s the name of the cover band I hired for our wedding. They specialize in 2000s R&B.”

“But I told you, I want you to sing,” said Eva. “Your voice is so smooth. Like Usher, but taller.”

“What’s a tall voice?” muttered Audre. She was fed up with their silly banter. Time to change the subject. “I have news. I’m writing a book.”

Just then, two of America’s most beloved authors gawked at Audre in absolute horror.

“But you’re so young,” protested Eva.

“I’m sixteen! You were nineteen when you published your first book.” Audre knew Eva’s biography by heart. At Princeton, she wrote the first book in the Cursed series, it won a fiction contest, she landed a publisher—and then she left college for New York. “Look, I need to be excellent for Stanford. I have a lot to live up to. Mercy girls do what can’t be done, remember?”

“You’re already excellent,” said Eva.

“How would you know? You didn’t even come to the awards ceremony.”

Eva’s head snapped up, her expression frozen between shame and hurt.

“Aaand this is my stop,” said Shane, gathering up Baby Alice and attempting to escape.

“Sit down,” ordered Eva. She faced Audre. “I’m sorry, I’m so overwhelmed right now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” lied Audre. She wished she could tell her what happened earlier at the awards ceremony. That as she waited in the wings to give her speech, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Ellison, her prom date. The prom was two months ago, and they hadn’t spoken since. But he texted constantly. Each time, it was a reminder of the worst day of her life.

Her brain froze, as if she’d bitten into a block of ice. She knew what was coming.

Audre fled to the bathroom. In the privacy of a stall, she had a panic attack. Shaking, sobbing, dry-heaving. She rode it out, then rinsed out her mouth in the sink. Dabbed her tears with paper towels, then ran back out to the stage and nailed the speech. No one could tell she was a mess. But Audre knew—and seeing her mom in the audience would’ve helped.

She was dying to tell Eva all of this. But Eva clearly had no room for her anymore.

“Audre, do you want a career as an author? Or is this just to get Stanford’s attention?”

“Both. I’m going to self-publish this book in time for applications. After I graduate from Stanford, I’ll get a three-book deal with a traditional publisher. And then become a world-famous self-help author. You know, when I’m not busy with my celebrity therapy practice.”

Eva and Shane glanced at each other. Shane let out a weary chuckle.

“Honey,” started Eva, “it sounds like a fun summer project. But it worries me that you’re so career-focused right now. Be young! Yeah, I published at nineteen. But then I blinked, and at twenty-two, I had a huge career, a toddler, and divorce bills. I was stuck in grown-up land.”

Audre flinched. “Oh. Okay, got it. Well, I’m so sorry you were stuck with me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Glad you have a chance for a do-over with Baby Alice. You know, the three of you sit there like the stars in your own movie while I’m off on the sidelines like… like… like…”

“An NPC?” offered Shane.

Eva cut her eyes at him, huffing.

“You made me stay!” he exclaimed.

His voice jolted Baby Alice awake, and she erupted in angry sobs. Audre stormed off—forgetting she no longer had a bedroom to storm into. With an exasperated UGH, she rerouted to the fire escape at the back of the apartment. It was the only quiet place left. She climbed out and sat on the ledge, her legs dangling two stories above the backyard garden.

Just two more weeks in Brooklyn, she thought, like a mantra. Just two more weeks.

As if reading her mind, her phone buzzed. Her dad. She picked up so fast she accidentally knocked herself in the mouth with her phone.

“Audre?”

A veteran Pixar animator, Troy Moore was extremely good-natured. He had two settings: pleased and ecstatic. Audre couldn’t imagine Troy and Eva in the same room, let alone married.

“Hi, Dad! I was just about to call you! Can I come out earlier? I just… I really miss the beach house. I feel like I’m losing it. I need to hear the ocean. Play with the puppy…”

“Donut’s a year old now. But Audre…”

“I even miss Athena’s decorating taste. I was wrong about her shell-shaped tub. It’s not tacky at all.”

“Audre. I, uh, have some news. I’ll just come out and say it, okay?”

She froze. “Why do you sound so weird?”

“We’re going to have to cancel Dadifornia this year. But it’s for an exciting reason! Are you sitting down? We’re pregnant. Can you believe it? It’s been a difficult first trimester, and Athena’s on bed rest. Don’t worry, she’ll be A-OK. But her mother moved in to help us, and… and she’s staying in your bedroom. So, we just don’t have room for you this summer.”