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“Isn’t Miss Kensington an amazing talent?” The director smiled and motioned for me to exit the stage once he took the mic. “We’re beyond honored to have her here with us this evening.”
I walked backstage, keeping my fake smile intact as I strolled over to my parents.
“Wonderful, darling. Just wonderful,” my mother said, handing me a bouquet of white roses.
“That’s the best I’ve ever heard you play.” My father smiled. “And trust me, that’s saying something. You’re starting to outdo yourself every time, becoming a young phenom in the making.”
“Nah, you were way better last week.” My younger sister, Sarah Kay, smiled. “Just my opinion, though. I heard two off notes.”
I laughed, but our mother shot her a cold look. Her stone-grey eyes said it all.
Stop playing around. We’re in public right now.
There were other people watching us, privately listening to our every word. As ‘The Kensington Family’?practically royalty on the south shore of Lake Tahoe?she always demanded that we behave perfectly whenever others were around.
I posed for a few press pictures, said ‘Thank you so much’ to everyone who offered me a compliment, and kept my smile firmly in place for hours.
It wasn’t until we left the concert hall and settled into the seats of our father’s private plane, that I finally let my guard down. Yet again, for the umpteenth time in my life, I was tempted to beg them to leave me here and fly home without me.
Just one more year, Kate. One more year…
Before I could whisper to Sarah Kay and tell her that she was right about my performance, that I’d played two soft C sharps where I shouldn’t have, my mother walked over to us.
“Great news, Kate.” She sipped her wine. “The recruiting director from Juilliard was in the audience tonight. He just sent me an email that said he absolutely regrets not accepting you into their program. He said he’s been watching your performances for years, and you’ve always left him spellbound.” She paused. “He said he’s tempted to finally fire or replace the judges who failed to recognize your talent.”
I nodded, saying nothing. I never told her that I purposely butchered all five of my Juilliard auditions. I played Bach like a beginner, acted as if I’d never heard of the late Pablo Casals, and fumbled my way through the advanced sheet music.
“How about we celebrate your performance with dinner?” My mother raised her glass. “We can toast to Juilliard’s epic loss.”
“Kate and I have plans tonight.” Sarah Kay sat up, looking somewhat panicked. “Solid, unbreakable plans.”
“Oh, really? What are they?”
“The Walton sisters invited us to a private party.” She shot me a ‘please don’t out me’ look. “We missed the last one, and I would hate to miss another.”
“Well …” My mother tapped her chin, the answer evident with her smile. She was delighted whenever we hung out with anyone whose wealth was comparable to ours. “I suppose that’s alright. Be back home by midnight.”
“What? That’s way too early for the weekend.” Sarah Kay crossed her arms. “The Walton sisters always throw a party that we never want to leave, you know? Can we at least get five a.m.?”
“You’re seventeen years old, Sarah Kay.”
“Kate is twenty.” She pouted. “She wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“Four a.m.” She relented, and then she continued to wax poetic about the Juilliard guy groveling.
I shook my head at Sarah Kay, silently seething and wanting to strangle the life out of her. It always amazed me how well she concocted her lies, how she could effortlessly spout bullshit and drag me into her poor life decisions.
We hated the Walton sisters down to their marrow, and they hated us in return. Nonetheless, we all made a compromise in mutual loathing: Whenever we wanted to do something that we knew our parents would never approve of, we used each other as alibis.
In Sarah Kay’s case, that ‘something’ was almost always a weed-smoking, alcohol-chugging, Stateline party with people who lived the regular lives we envied.
Smiling, Sarah Kay wrote a few words on a paper napkin and slipped it to me.
Party starts at 10 & Ronnie is picking us up.
Please dress like it’s a HALLOWEEN PARTY and not a TEA PARTY.
You’re welcome for this amazing-ass night, in advance!
?SK
P.S. Now that you’re single, you should try to get fucked tonight …
Or at least find a guy who can make your panties wet. :)
Hours later …
I PRESSED MY BACK AGAINST the wall, watching Cinderella grind against Batman under flashing red and white lights. I’d rolled my eyes so many times tonight, that I decided it was better if I just pretended this was all a temporary nightmare.
I was witnessing all the signature marks of a Stateline party, mentally checking each item off the list. There was blaring loud music that shook the walls of the abandoned warehouse, a huge bonfire outside that was feet away from the lake (the drunken skinny dipping always started at midnight) and enough weed smoke in the air, that we all were probably high as hell by proxy.
