AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He let out a short laugh, the kind with no humor in it. “Yeah. I mean… maybe? It’s…” His mouth twisted suddenly, like he’d just bitten into a lemon, and he took a breath. “I didn’t get into the BFA program,” he said quietly. “I lied about that, and I’m sorry. I just… wanted it to be true, I guess. Even for a little while.”
“Michigan’s still a really good school, though. Even if you didn’t get into the musical theater part of it.”
“Yeah,” Russell said, but not very convincingly. “I actually… That…” He trailed off, but I somehow knew that he was working through something—not to jump in just yet, but to let him get there. “It’s what my dad and I fought about,” he finally said. “At Silverspun. It’s how I ended up in the bus station to begin with.”
“You fought about… Michigan?”
“Yeah. When I first applied, I didn’t get into the BFA program, but I got wait-listed for the regular admission. And then in May, I got a letter telling me I was off the wait list for the regular school. And it seemed like… what I should do. Like you said, it’s a good school. Everyone was happy. My mom got to tell all her friends where I was going. It made sense, right?”
I nodded, recognizing something in his expression—the look of desperately trying to turn lemons into lemonade.
“So that was the plan. But then, right before my dad was taking the stage at Silverspun, I was backstage with him. He’d given me his phone to hold while he warmed up. And that’s when I saw the email.” He paused, then took a breath before he went on, the way you do before you jump into cold water—bracing yourself for what’s coming. “It was from Michigan. They were giving him an update on their plans for the generous donation he’d pledged back in May.”
“Oh.”
“And it made me feel so stupid. I think that was the worst part, you know? I was so embarrassed that I’d let myself be proud I’d gotten in. Because of course I hadn’t done it on my own. Of course my dad had pulled strings to make it happen. Of course they didn’t want me—not without him.”
“That’s… a lot.” All at once, I understood why the Russell I’d met shortly after this had all gone down wouldn’t have wanted to tell me who he really was. Why being Wylie Sanders’s son in that moment would be the last thing he’d want to claim.
“As soon as the show was over, I confronted him about it.” Russell’s voice was raw, like he was still processing this, present tense. “And the worst part was that he didn’t seem to understand why I was upset—and then he was hurt because he’d done what he thought was a good thing and I was ‘throwing it in his face.’ ” Russell stumbled over a loose piece of gravel. I reached out to him instinctively, but he righted himself and kicked the rock away angrily.
“Anyway, then I told him I didn’t ask for this and I didn’t want anything of his, and I didn’t need him. That was me being very mature, by the way.” I laughed at that, and Russell shook his head. “And then I ran out and found the buses that were going to LA, and I got on the first one.”
“And then what happened?”
Russell stared at me for a second, then laughed. “Good one.”
I walked next to him in silence for a moment as I thought through all this. I suddenly flashed to the way his face had crumpled, back in the Silver Standard office, when he’d finally pulled out his phone. I realized now what I hadn’t known then—just how much it had cost him to make that call. “So did you guys—I don’t know… clear the air?”
“I think we basically called a time-out. My dad and I don’t fight much. It’s like we don’t have the skill set or something. So we weren’t getting anywhere, just going around in circles…”
I nodded and we walked in silence for a moment—but the kind of silence that felt like an ellipsis, not a period.
“I just think the fundamental problem is that he doesn’t understand why I’m upset. He just thinks I’m being ungrateful. And I know this is a ridiculous thing to be complaining about! I’m crazy lucky, and so privileged, and I know that. I do. But…” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. I knew full well that I could just leave this here. I didn’t have to talk about me, or my situation, even though they were actually kind of similar. But all at once—I wanted to. I took a big breath and made myself say it. “I… kind of know what that’s like. To feel like it wasn’t your choice. It sucks.”
“It really does,” Russell said, even though I could hear the question in his voice. “So is your dad also a huge rock star?”
“Oh, man—did I forget to mention that? So embarrassing. My name is actually Darcy Matthews Band.”
Russell laughed. “You know Band isn’t actually part of Dave’s last name, right?”
“You call him Dave?” The second I asked it, I shook my head. “I mean, of course you do.”
Russell cleared his throat. “Well—he is my godfather.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Well, it was the first one I thought of. I couldn’t remember Bono’s real last name.”
“Hewson.”
“Okay. Is he also your godfather?”
“Nope. He’s Connor’s.”
