My mom eyed me. “Not only are we concerned that you obviously lied to us about where you were, but the bigger concern is this audition. You can’t afford to take a day off from practice right now.”
Wow. They were more upset because I’d squandered three hours of my life instead of the fact I’d lied to them and run around town without permission? But they clearly were, because no one had even thought to ask me where I’d gone. It was sort of shocking, actually. What if I told them I had a fake ID and had gone drinking with my friends? Would they even care? I kind of thought not. To them, I was nothing more than a set of fingers that played the piano. That was it. Nothing else.
Crusty nodded, her eyes all beady and demanding as usual, but when I saw the look of annoyance on my dad’s face, it was too much. My dad was always mellow about my piano. He was the one who was my respite, who would ask me about school and homework at the dinner table. He didn’t really care if I went to recitals, and he was always happy to take me for ice cream instead of having me practice when my mom was gone. And yet now they’d gotten to him so much that he was looking at me like I’d let him down?
Enough! “Stop it!” I jumped to my feet. “I’m sick of this!”
“Lily, sit down,” my mom said. “Now.”
But my dad set his hand on her leg and looked at me. “Sick of what, Lil?”
“Piano. Being tortured. Having no friends and no life.” I glared at my mom and Miss Jespersen. “Being told I’m a failure fifty times a lesson. I’m not a loser and I’m sick of you trying to convince me I am!”
“Of course you’re not a loser, or a failure,” my dad said, looking genuinely surprised. “Why would you think that?”
I pointed at Crusty. “Because she tells me that all the time.”
My parents looked at Miss Jespersen and her sweet old lady look vanished. She narrowed her eyes and shot me a hostile look that definitely increased the odds of my parents believing that she was a demon in disguise. I smiled at her. “And Mom backs her up,” I added.
It was my mom’s turn to look shocked. “I love you, Lily! I don’t criticize your piano!”
Seriously? Did she really believe that?
“Lily, I’m merely trying to push you to be the great pianist you can be,” Miss Jespersen said. “I wouldn’t be doing you any favors if I complimented you when—”
I covered my ears and scrunched my eyes closed. “Shut up! Just stop it! I can’t take it anymore!”
“Lily!” My mom looked horrified. “Apologize to Miss Jespersen immediately!”
“No!” I stomped my feet in frustration. Why wouldn’t they listen to me? “I used to be talented, okay? But I’m not anymore. I stink at the piano.” I ran over to the piano and held up a stack of sheet music. “Do you see this? I can’t do it!” I hurled it across the floor, and the papers scattered across the carpet.
My mom sucked in her breath, and I felt like cheering, because that meant she’d actually heard me. “Lily—”
“I’m never going to live up to my potential, even if I practice until my fingers turn into bloody stumps! I can’t take all this pressure, and I’m tired of not being able to have a life! I hate it!” Tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. Let them see what they were doing to me.
My dad narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtful, while my mom went crazy on me, telling me I didn’t appreciate the opportunities I’d been given, and Crusty started talking about getting me counseling to handle the stress of being a child prodigy.
My chest heaving with sobs, I stared at my dad and he looked at me, both of us ignoring my mom and Crusty. My dad didn’t usually get involved in the piano stuff. It was my mom and Miss Jespersen’s deal.
“Do you want to quit the piano?” he asked me quietly.
My mom and Crusty shut up fast when I nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.” Was he really going to let me do it? Could I really become normal? My throat tightened at the thought of not having any more pressure, of never facing the threat of failure again. Oh, God. Was it really over?
“No,” my mom whispered in horror. “She can’t quit.”
Miss Jespersen said nothing, but she was looking at me with the strangest look on her face, like she’d never seen me before.
“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” my dad asked.
“I do! I tell Mom all the time.”
We both looked at her, and her face paled. “But this is your dream,” she said. “I’m just trying to support it.”