Free Sparrow Migrations by Cari Noga Page B

was so excited. Amanda, I could be Sandra! And we’re only juniors.”
    “That’s so cool, Ab. You’d be great,” Amanda said, walking down the hall, toward her room.
    Brett rinsed the dishes, musing. Auditions. She thought back. Amanda mentioned something about musical auditions last week. Were they today? She chastised herself for not knowing for sure.
    She filled the dishwasher quickly, then walked down to Amanda’s room. Hesitating, she listened. The phone conversation must be over. She knocked lightly and peeked in. “OK to come in?”
    “I guess.” Amanda didn’t move on the bed. The phone receiver lay facedown next to her.
    Brett wedged herself into the small space left between her daughter’s feet and the end of the bed. “Was that Abby?”
    Amanda nodded.
    “What’s new with her?”
    “She got asked to audition for one of the leads in the musical today.”
    “Good for her.” Brett paused. “Weren’t you going to audition, too?”
    “Yeah, probably. Abby said I can still do it tomorrow.”
    “Oh, OK.” Brett reviewed her daughter’s response, evaluating whether to probe further.
    “I just wanted to come home and see you this afternoon, is all,” Amanda suddenly added.
    “Really? You wanted to come home instead of hang out with your friends?” Brett patted her leg, wondering if that really was a good thing for a sixteen-year-old girl. Amanda pulled her knees up quickly and picked up the phone.
    “Mom?” She was fidgeting with it, turning it around in her hands.
    “Yes?”
    “You know how I asked you about being on the news yesterday, being on the boat?”
    “Mmm-hmmm.” Brett sat up straighter, feeling suddenly wide-awake.
    “You said you weren’t. But this morning, on the news, they were rerunning the crash coverage and . . . and I saw you.”
    “Saw me?” Brett’s throat closed.
    “On a boat. Just like Kelsey said.”
    Brett’s heart thumped. Here it was already, the moment of confrontation. She knew it would come eventually, but she had only scripted Richard opposite her. It was harder with Amanda, who had stopped fidgeting with the phone and pinned her with an unwavering stare. Brett sighed and nodded, almost imperceptibly.
    “So I was right.”
    Brett nodded again, more distinctly.
    “Why did you tell me you weren’t? What’s the big deal? So you decided to blow off the conference and do something fun.” Amanda shrugged.
    There it was. The life raft of the next lie laid, so innocently, by her own daughter. Amanda thinks I was just playing hooky. She didn’t notice anything between me and Jackie. So easy to step into, to maintain the charade a little bit longer. Of course it was wrong to lie. But it was her duty to protect her daughter, too. Wasn’t it? Just for a little while longer. Until I talk to Jackie. Until we figure this out.
    She shrugged, too. “I don’t know, Amanda. I was so surprised when you asked. With the plane crash, everything was so confusing. And scary.”
    She’s not convinced. Think of something else.
    “And going to the conference was expensive, so it was important that I make it worthwhile. I didn’t want you to think we were wasting time, or money. I’m sorry.”
    “ ‘We? ’  ”
    Brett’s heart pounded again. I. I meant I. I didn’t want you to think I was wasting time or money. This was how the devil used lies—like a web, snaring you with another and another and another, until you were hopelessly entangled. On the ferry, with Amanda far away, it was easier to lie. Face-to-face, here in her room, it was almost physically painful.
    She stood up, folding her arms, cupping her elbows tightly, as her thoughts galloped, back to New York, back to Jackie. Was she lying to her family, too? What sacrifices was she making?
    “Mom?” Amanda’s voice brought her back to the bedroom.
    Brett looked down at her daughter. So trusting. She cleared her throat, and stepped in deeper.
    “Yes, we. Me and Mrs. Longwood. Jackie Longwood. We were