“That was nice of him. Tell him thank you.”

What would be nice would be if I had a car. How come I couldn’t say that out loud? “I’m going to the charity dinner,” I said instead. It wasn’t a good instead. It was a bad instead. It was an instead that gave my mom what she wanted and expressed none of my frustration.

She clapped her hands and rose up on her toes. “Oh, I knew you would. I’m so happy.” She hugged me again. Her hair smelled like vanilla and lilacs. She pushed me out by my shoulders. “Your coach called about it and we had a long chat.”

“Coach called?” I guess DJ gave him the message about why I wanted to talk to him, after all. Thank you, DJ. I owed him a dollar.

“Yes, and I know he wanted us to be at the banquet, but he understands.”

“He does? He wasn’t mad?”

“Of course not. You’ll have so many award ceremonies in the future. Ones that don’t conflict with other important dates.”

She was right. I would. I nodded and then wandered off to my room while she hummed happily in the kitchen.

I clicked on my music, the sound immediately stilling my mind. My computer was open on my desk. I swiped my finger across the trackpad to wake it up and it dinged with a notification.

Heath Hall is a man of many talents, he’d written in response to my claim that his activities seemed to have a wide range.

I sat at my desk. I wouldn’t exactly call bungee jumping a talent.

Really?

Not even close. Now that painting, that was talent.

Well, good thing it’s not about showing off talents, then.

What is it about?

After a long pause that had me wondering if he was going to answer at all, he said, Facing fears. Expressing secrets. Discovering truth.

Expressing secrets? That seems to be the exact opposite of what you do.

True.

That answer was maddening. I thought back to the museum when he had said he’d always feared showing his art in public. That was a fear and now he was facing another one?

So what? You’re afraid of heights? Of falling?

This time he didn’t answer my question. He asked one. Do you have any fears?

The cursor blinked on the screen, over and over. It seemed to blink in time to the beat of the song playing over my speakers. Of course I had fears. Too many. Ones I didn’t want to think about. The song ended and silence filled my room. My chest constricted. When a new song started, I blew out a breath.

I can’t think of anything. Spiders?

Sixteen