Sing Me To Sleep Part 37

Fly through the night,

Build a place where together we' ll grow.

Just get away.

Your beautiful daughter keep her far,

Far from his sight.

He's not the man we wanted

To love.

Get away.

chapter 26.

STUDY NOTES.

The next couple months are crazy. We start recording the CD. It takes forever. Every time Derek invites me to a performance, I've got another recording session. We only manage to get together again once. We keep connected online, but then he'll disappear, sometimes for a few days, sometimes more than a week.

I don't ask anymore. Everything is so fragile right now. I don't want to make him angry. I can't risk losing him. I've decided I don't want to know. I'll close my eyes and savor what he gives me. It's not enough. Maybe someday we can figure out how to get more of each other. As the weeks pa.s.s, I grow grateful for every whisper over the phone, every line he writes, every stolen second we get.

I don't know why it has to be stolen and what I'm stealing him from. The time we got together it was here. He won't let me go to his house. I still haven't met his parents.

One night online he surprises me.

Derek: how'd you like to spend a whole weekend with me in Toronto?

Beth: suddenly it's right?

Derek: I knew you'd take it like that Beth: this isn't about s.e.x?

Derek: shut up Beth: only if you tell me how you'll know when it's finally right Derek: easy . . . my mum says it's wrong unless you're married Beth: you're a big boy . . . you don't have to do what Mommy says Derek: you don't know my mum "And why is that?" I ask the screen. I don't type it, though. Complaining only makes him disappear.

Beth: so you're asking me to elope to Toronto with you? let me check my calendar Derek: maybe next time . . . this time I'm asking you to come sing with me again I get all hot. Singing with him is such a rush-but how can I? I stare at the screen, imagining myself onstage with him again, letting our pa.s.sion fill our song. I've got so much bottled up in me. It needs to get out somehow. But I wrecked that. Derek didn't give me the full scoop, but I could tell the AYS directors were angry.

Beth: I can't show my face around Amabile again Derek: it's just the guys . . . they all still think you're the G.o.ddess Beth: me and all those guys?

Derek: you and ME and all those guys . . . Sat.u.r.day we've got a movie premier downtown TO, and Sunday we're doing a live CBC Radio broadcast He is so nuts to think I can do that.

Beth: and you want me to muck it up?

Derek: I arranged "Beth's Song" as a duet with tenor/ba.s.s backup . . . I want you to write the words and then come sing it with me Beth: I can't write lyrics good enough for that song Derek: don't be stupid Beth: you write it Derek: I already did my part . . . it's your turn I can't. I can't. No way. I can't. I'm not hot anymore. Suddenly I'm really cold. Freezing cold. I start typing.

Beth: I've got midterms and a big project due . . . our CD-release concert is coming up Derek: this is important Beth: I can't do it . . . all I've ever written is bits and pieces . . . fragments . . . and most of it's hideous and sappy Derek: apply yourself . . . you're wasting your talent Just because he can write, doesn't mean I can. He talks about music flowing out of him. I have to squeeze out every word. And it's still bad.

Beth: what talent? I'd ruin your song Derek: no you won't . . . you've got plenty of time . . . if it stinks, I'll tell you and you can try again Beth: that sounds like great fun Derek: that's how it works . . . I can't remember the date, but it's after your Thanksgiving . . . the second weekend of December I think Am I relieved? Disappointed? A mixture of emotions surge in choppy confusion.

Beth: that's when our concert is . . . we're doubling it for our Christmas concert Derek: shoot . . . you did that on purpose I need to give him something. I flip to the calendar. Sunday's free-totally.

Beth: how about I take the train up to Toronto on Sunday and watch your broadcast? that would be cool Derek: come Sunday and sing with me Beth: please, just let me hide out in the crowd . . . I'd love to be your groupie Derek: NO . . . I'll email you the music Beth: I can't He ignores that last post-I'm sure of it. Within three minutes there's an email in my inbox with an attachment.

I hit reply and type, "There's absolutely no way on earth I can do this."

It's late. I'm whipped, and his hyper-confidence in me makes me angry. It sounds cool-him and me singing a song we wrote on the radio. What I wouldn't give to do that. But that song is too beautiful, means too much. My words would clunk against his music. I don't have beauty inside me like he does. I'm the Beast. Ugly. That's all I can write.

Since that night when I told him I couldn't leave Bliss and we fought in the park, I've been patient and understanding. c.r.a.p. I haven't even met his mom. I've let him get away with it. It's all exactly how he wants. He's not going to make me do this.

Next morning I get a text from Derek on my way to my locker to dump my backpack: try 2 lines I chuck my bag into the locker. "c.r.a.p." I key in: 0 lines and mash the send b.u.t.ton.

Scott arrives in time for that performance. "I don't like the way he treats you."

"It's none of your business."

"I have to see you like this every day."

"Like what?" I jerk my head around and glare at him. "I'm fine."

He frowns and leans against his locker. "Uptight. On edge. Isolated-even from me."

I scowl at him. "I'm really happy with Derek."

"Deliriously. I can see that." Scott folds his arms across his chest.

"When we're together-"

"Doesn't seem to happen much." He leans toward me. "What's with that guy?"

"We're both really busy."

"Too bad. Maybe you should look closer to home."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Scott's surprised. I haven't given him an opening like that for weeks. He steps closer. "We'd be together whenever we want. At school and after. Weekends." His dark blue eyes get intense. "If you would just let me in."

"I'm busy, though. My choir and the CD. Not to mention all these AP cla.s.ses I'm taking this year."

"We study well together. Don't you miss that?"

I can't lie. I do.

"How about I come over this afternoon, and we can study for that econ exam we've got Thursday?"

"Maybe that's not such a good idea."

"Come on, Beth. He doesn't own you. You're not his puppet."

Exactly. "This is just to study?"

"Like old times."

"You know, Scottie." My old name for him slips easily out. "That would be nice. I have missed you."

"I'm here. Every day. I'm here."

The bell rings, and we head off to different cla.s.ses. It's nice to have Scott acting like a friend again. I'm actually looking forward to seeing him in choir today. And he's a lot better at econ than me. I could use his help. My phone buzzes as I sit down. Derek.

1 line?

I painstakingly type, I'm not your puppet out in full and send it back to him.

After school, Scott and I walk out to my car together. "How is your history project going?" I ask to fill the nervous silence.

"So-so. It's kind of a dumb project."

We're supposed to look at how politics or governments were influenced by art or vice versa. "I like it. I'm studying how jazz influenced politics during the Depression."

Scott opens my door for me. "I got stuck with Stalinist-era Soviet art." He slams the door and goes around to the pa.s.senger side.

"Stalinist art sounds cool to me." I adjust my mirror while he gets settled. "You could tie it in with communist propaganda."

"Boring. It's not fair. You get to do music. You're an expert."

"Jazz?" I start Jeannette's engine and back her up. "Are you kidding? I sing choir music."

He laughs. "Some of it's jazzy."

"A gospel spiritual isn't jazz." I drive out of the parking lot.

"Want to trade topics?"

"No way."

"I rest my case."

When we pull up to the house, oh, c.r.a.p, Derek is sitting in the driveway on his bike. Scott whips an accusing look at me.

"I didn't know he'd be here. I don't want to-"

"Rub my face in it?"

Derek's at my door before I can answer, opening it, pulling me up, and kissing me.

Scott is out of his side fast. "Are we still going to study?" He's got his backpack in his hand, looks ready to bail.

I twist around to face Scott. Derek keeps his arms around me. "Of course." I pat Derek's arm. "Scott and I have a big econ exam we need to cram for."

Scott glares at Derek. "You any good at econ?"

"Nope. Must be why I'm always broke." He squeezes me. "If you're busy, I'll take off."

"No."

Scott's face falls. Great. I can spend the next three hours studying with Scott or making out with Derek. And they both know it.

Derek reaches inside his jacket. "I'm just dropping this off." He pulls out some white pages folded in half. "I don't have to stay." He looks from me to Scott. "I don't want to get in your way."

He's taking this so wrong. "That's stupid. We're just studying." I lead the way into the house. "Come on, Scott. We're wasting time."

We spread out our notes and books on the kitchen table and get to work.