Midnight Serenade

Chapter 1

"Come on, Mom!" I yelled from the idling car in the driveway. We were supposed to leave ten minutes ago, and she was undoubtedly still primping. Frustrated, I leaned on the horn. Even if she'd heard my call, she wouldn't be moved by it. She would, however, be embarrassed by the blaring horn.

Sure enough, a minute later, she emerged from the house. Throwing a withering glance at me to cut it out, she turned and locked the door before hurrying to the car.

"Alright, alright," she said, sliding into the driver's seat. "No need to get all riled up."

I stared at her, unamused. I hated the name Riley. Mostly because people liked to say 'clever' things like that.

"You know I can't be late. The test starts at eight-thirty, and I can't exactly just sit down and start working when I get there. I'll have to sign in at least."

"I know, I know, I know," she said with a longsuffering sigh as she clipped her seat belt and started the car.

I clenched my jaw to resist telling her how important this was for me. Again. She didn't get it and she didn't care to. My dad made it pretty clear that he wasn't prepared to spend a lot on college, so if I wanted to have a shot at ever getting out of this town, I had to get some kind of scholarship. My grades were good, but I needed great SAT scores too.

But if I couldn't even get to the test on time, I wouldn't have any SAT scores. I couldn't wait for my birthday. After I had my license, I wouldn't have to depend on my parents to drive me places anymore. If our town wasn't so unbearably small, I'd have risked it and driven myself today. But with my luck, a cop would spot me a mile away. I wasn't on a first name basis with any of them or anything, but our town was light enough on traffic that they could probably recognize underage drivers pretty easily.

The drive was silent until Mom turned on some generic music station. She was too groggy to talk, and if I opened my mouth, I'd just start yelling. I needed to save my energy. It would be a long morning.

When we arrived at the school, I got a bad feeling about the atmosphere. It was too quiet. There were some parents spread around the parking lot, but not many. And there were no kids my age anywhere to be seen.

As soon as my mom put the car in park, I threw the door open and jumped out. As I ran to get inside, I was tempted to check my phone to confirm that I wasn't late, but it would waste precious time. Once inside, I quickly navigated the halls to the sign in table. The middle-aged woman on the opposite side was in the process of packing everything up.

"Wait!" I panted, coming to a stop in front of her. "I have to sign in."

She didn't move to open the book. "You're late."

"I know. I'm sorry. It was my ride. If I could drive, I'd have been here on time."

She gave a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure that's true. Unfortunately, the testing has begun. I can't allow you to interrupt."

"But I'm registered," I tried desperately, knowing it was useless.

She pursed her lips. "Well...if you want to wait around until the break, you can join everyone then."

Which would mean I'd either miss portions entirely or would run out of time before I could finish them. Meaning that my score would be terrible no matter what. I could tell the woman didn't expect me to take her suggestion. She just felt sorry for me.

Feeling my shoulders sag, I shook my head. "Thanks." Sixty dollars to register, wasted.

"There's still time, right?" she tried. "How old are you?"

"I'll be sixteen in a few weeks."

"There, see? You can take it another time."

I nodded and forced a smile for her before turning to walk back outside. I had planned to take the SATs at least twice, so I could submit my best score for college. Theoretically, I still had plenty of time to take the test several times, but not necessarily if you were working for scholarships. Some of the deadlines for applications came early.

When I pushed through the door, I narrowed my eyes, seeing my mother talking to one of the other moms. She looked care-free as ever, and it made me furious. This was completely her fault. I woke her up an hour before she tumbled out of bed. I even made her coffee and set her things out neatly so she wouldn't have to scramble around the house like usual. And she still couldn't manage to get out of her self-centered bubble for just one morning.

Scowling, I made my way over to her.

"Finished already?" she said breezily as I approached.

"I missed the test," I grumbled. "I told you we were going to be late."

For a minute - one fleeting moment - she looked genuinely troubled. "Riley, I'm sorry." Her face brightened. "Well, you can just take it later. That'll give you more time to prepare. Oh! And now we can get pedicures!"

I stared at her. I wanted to scream and tell her what a stupid idea that was and that she was ruining all my plans, but I knew she was trying. She honestly thought that a pedicure would fix everything. Besides, all that would be accomplished by me yelling, would be to make us both upset. She'd probably cry and I'd feel bad about it forever. Sometimes it felt like I was the mom and she was the kid.

I took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "Fine," I said, resigned.

She grinned and looked at the other mom she'd been talking to. "Brenda, it was great to see you again. We'll get together soon?"

"Absolutely," Brenda said with a smile before she looked at me with pity in her eyes. "Don't feel bad, Riley. You'll do great next time. You're a smart girl!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Williams." I forced another smile and we all went to our respective cars.

"My toes have been just terrible lately. I've been wanting to get them redone, and now we can go together," my mom gushed as we drove away from the school. "It's been forever since we had a girl's day. Oh, and maybe after we can do some shopping. I've been meaning to take you anyway."

As she rambled, I wondered how we could even be related. She lived for pedicures and manicures and makeovers and shopping. I loved the outdoors. I'd rather go hiking or horse-back riding or stargazing any day of the week. I couldn't care less about the state of my toes.

Mom and I didn't look anything alike either. She was petite and willowy. I wasn't fat or anything, but I didn't think anyone would ever describe me in those terms. I was average height and kind of thin, but a little muscular. Which was probably from playing soccer. My mom was blonde, though not quite as blonde as her current shade, while my hair was a dark reddish brown. Our hair was about the same length, but mine was thick and wavy and my mom's was fine and straight. My mom's eyes were grayish blue and mine were hazel. Our features didn't share even the slightest hint of a connection. I'd say I got my looks from my dad, but I didn't look much like him either. The closest thing was our eyes. His were brown, but still not really a match of mine. But maybe I looked like his parents. I'd never even seen a picture of them.

Maybe I was adopted, I thought with a snort as my mom babbled on about shoes in a tone that suggested the topic was nearly as important as ending world hunger.