I laugh. I’d forgotten about Jareth the Goblin King. I was terribly in love with him when I was fifteen. “Mr. Kingsolver is interesting,” I say, hedging. And he’s not a boy.
She nods knowingly. “Well, if he hasn’t asked you out on a date yet, I think it’s just a matter of time before he does.” Then she frowns and becomes more like the mother I’m used to. “But if he’s a little like your boss, then don’t let him take advantage of you.”
Once my mother’s gone downstairs I turn her words over in my mind. Ask me out on a date? It’s just about the last thing I expect Mr. Kingsolver to do. He hasn’t shown the slightest interest in seeing me outside the theater. How different my mother’s expectations are to my reality.
The only thing I want is for whatever we’re doing to continue, and I assume he does, too. But am I wrong to assume that? He’s never even kissed me. Kissing means the sort of closeness people share when they like each other. That he hasn’t kissed me or even looked like he might seems significant.
I snatch up Chubbles from my bed and bury my face in his fur. Everything suddenly seems off-kilter and I wish that I could have my good mood back.
Chapter Five
To the audience, there’s nothing special about tonight. It’s just the night that they see Amarantha. Which, I suppose, might be special to them, or it might just be a night at a musical in the West End. But to me, it’s huge.
My dances go off without a hitch and the other performers whisper their congratulations to me in the wings. At the end I don’t get a special curtain call like the stars, but I do move up a rung, coming out for the applause after the chorus, instead of with them. I hear someone cheer loudly as I take my bow, which might be my father, and I see the outline of someone tall and broad standing at the back of the stalls.
So he’s here. I haven’t seen him since he asked me to call him...that, and ever since the conversation with my mother my anxiety has shot through the roof. I tell myself that if I want to see him I should seek him out. But what would I say? Every time I imagine how the conversation would go my courage flees. I don’t know how to ask him what he wants from me. What’s worse, I’ve woken up two mornings in cold sweats from nightmares. In them my parents find my phone history and a diary that I don’t actually keep and confront me with them. They’re so angry and disgusted and their faces make me cry and I’m so ashamed of myself.
Until now I’ve managed to focus on my new role and how much it means to me, but as soon as I step offstage all my happiness vanishes, and there’s only the lead weight of worry and loneliness in my chest.
Gregory has allowed my parents to come backstage just for this special occasion and they’re there to meet me outside my new dressing room, which I share with just three other girls. I force a smile and accept their kind words and kisses, and they admire my costume up close.
When I go inside to change I find a note in my shoe.
Tell your parents you are busy and stay with me tonight.
I clench the paper in my hand. Just like that I’m supposed to ditch my parents? The lead in the center of my chest begins to burn white-hot.
“Do you mind just giving me ten minutes?” I ask my parents when I step out into the corridor with my bag. “Mr. Kingsolver wants to see me.”
I stomp up the wooden staircase and push his door open without asking. He looks up in surprise, and then frowns.
Throwing the note down on his desk, I ask, “What does this mean?”
He looks at the note, and then back up at me. Then he carefully caps his pen and places it to one side. “Don’t be bratty, Abby, you know what it means. I wanted to see you.”
“Bratty?” I snap. “I’m not being bratty.”
He narrows his eyes. “Yes, you are. What’s got into you? Has something upset you?”
“Yes,” I say, and the word is a hiss. “You have. You can’t just tell me to send my parents home on the night of my debut. What am I supposed to tell them? That we have a date? That you’re going to put me over your knee and spank me? What are we even doing?” Even though I’m furious, my heart has climbed into my throat and I can
’t get my leg to stop shaking. He’s going to lose his temper now like he did when I was just that girl in the chorus who made two mistakes.
But he doesn’t. He just sits there, watching me.
“My parents are downstairs waiting for me and I’m going home with them, all right? You can’t just tell me what to do and expect me to do it. You can’t just tell me to call you...that, and then leave me to figure out for myself what it means.” Tears spill over my cheeks and my voice cracks. I swipe at the tears with my fingers, angry that I can’t get my feelings out without being reduced to blubbering.
He sighs, then nods and gets up from his desk and comes around it toward me. He doesn’t try to touch me, though. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have explained things first but I got carried away in the moment. I just really wanted to hear you call me that.”
I sniffle and look up at him. “Why?”
There’s a glimmer of a smile around his lips. “Because I like it.”
“But it’s weird.”
“Yes, it is.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re upset because you don’t know what I want from you, is that right?”
“Yes.”