Chapter 12: The Duet

"No," I said. "He never wrote a word."

Adalyn nodded slowly.

"He said the green book was his," she said. "He said you just copied things out for him because his handwriting was bad."

"So you copied it out again. In yours."

"He asked me to. For the video."

She laughed, and it came out wet.

"I thought I was helping him get his songs back from you."

"You read my grandmother's porch in a dining hall and called it your journal."

"I know."

"You couldn't tell me what color the lanterns were."

"I know," she said. "I went home and read the whole book that night. Every page."

"It's your grandmother and your town and your mom's car. There's not one line of him in it."

The kitchen fan roared over the alley.

A busboy came out with a bucket, looked at us, and went back in.

"Why are you here, Adalyn?"

She hugged her arms.

"My father picked Breckin last summer," she said. "At a campus show."

"He said Breckin had the face and the voice, and he just needed songs."

"And you?"

"He told me to keep Breckin close," she said. "Make sure he signed with us, not with Nashville money. So I did."

"You slept with my boyfriend for a record contract."

"I slept with him because my father called him a project, and I wanted to finish something."

She wiped her face with the heel of her hand.

"Turns out I was the bait. I'm not even on the album."

"I found out tonight. Daddy hired a session singer for the duets."

I didn't say anything.

In my first life she'd stood in a silver dress and taken my award.

I'd hated her for seven years.

Standing in the alley, I couldn't find the hate.

I couldn't find much of anything for her.

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