Authors: Sharon Huss Roat

Between the Notes (26 page)

FORTY-EIGHT

O
n my way to Lennie’s shed, I cut through a dance line that was snaking around the backyard. He didn’t answer the door or even say anything, but I went in, anyway. He was still twirling around slowly in his chair. I pulled my arms through the straps of my butterfly wings and laid them on the counter, then walked around the workbench to where he was sitting. He still didn’t look up, so I stood between his knees and pushed his shoulders back. When his eyes finally met mine, they were red.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you forgive me?”

He lifted his hands to my waist and pulled me toward him, so his face pressed into my stomach. He inhaled a deep breath and let it shudder out.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tighter, then slid onto his lap. His arms moved slowly up my back and into my hair, lowering my face to his.

“What are you doing with a loser like me?” His voice was low, a bass note that vibrated through me.

“You’re not a loser.”

He let out a single snort of laughter. “Said nobody ever.”

“Said me. Am I nobody?”

He smiled. “You’re somebody.”

I lifted Brady’s red Superman cape that sat crumpled on the counter next to Lennie’s chair. “You’re a hero.”

He grinned. “They don’t call me Wonder Woman for nothing.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry I looked down on you before, on this place. I don’t anymore. And you aren’t who I thought you were. Not at all.”

He inhaled a slow breath. “What changed your mind?”

I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I studied the collar of his shirt instead. “The way you are with Brady,” I whispered. “And with your mom.”

“Ah,” he said. “Nothing to do with you and me, then. . . .”

I shook my head, a shy smile coming to my lips. “Nope.”

There was no way I could admit that his touch practically made me forget my own name—the way he was tracing my face with his eyes, the heat of his legs under mine. If he didn’t kiss me soon, I was going to explode.

He stood abruptly and I nearly fell to the floor. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry. He turned his back to me and leaned over his computer. “I just think we’re too young to be together because you think I’m nice to children and my mother. If that’s all you got, then . . .”

I grabbed the collar I’d been staring at a moment ago and
spun him crashing into me.

“Whoa,” he said.

I stood on tiptoes, my whole body leaning into him, and kissed him hard.

“I changed my mind about you,” I said angrily, my arms still locked around him, “because you do this to me, you big jerk.”

“This?” He kissed me back hard, one hand tangled in my hair and the other holding me so tightly against him I could barely breathe.

“Yes,” I said when we broke apart, panting and laughing. “That.”

He grinned his crooked grin. “But I’ve never kissed you like that before.”

“Let’s not get hung up on technicalities, shall we?” I wasn’t about to confess that I’d imagined him kissing me like that quite a few times. And the reality was way better.

He sat down and pulled me to his lap, and I sank right into him like he was custom-carved to fit. We may or may not have kissed for a really long time before we heard a faint knocking at the door.

“Who is it?” Lennie called out.

No one answered, but the knocking continued.

“Brady,” I gasped. “It’s Brady.” I don’t know how I knew. But I did. I untangled myself from Lennie and lunged for the door.

The moment I swung it open, Brady dived past me, crying, and wrapped himself around Lennie’s leg. I rushed forward with
soothing sounds, shushing softly in Brady’s ear.

“He must’ve gotten lost in the dark,” I said.

Lennie gently pried my brother off his leg and scooped him up. “I got ya, buddy. You’re okay.”

Brady clung to Lennie’s neck.

My mother ran up then, in a panic. “Oh, thank God. You found him. I tucked him into bed and then he . . . he disappeared.” She held her hands out to take Brady, but he only burrowed deeper into Lennie.

Mom looked to me with wide eyes.

I shrugged.

“Hey, little dude.” Lennie spoke softly into Brady’s ear. “You want to dance with me and Ivy?”

My brother pulled his face from Lennie’s shoulder and smiled.

Lennie carried him to the yard as I pulled my butterfly wings back on, and we danced around and around with Brady hugged between us.

Reesa and Reese joined us, and Molly and her explorer dude. Soon my dad came and took Brady up to bed. Lennie slid his arms around my waist, beneath my wings. He pulled me close and the music pulsed through us, and everything else seemed to disappear. It was just me and Lennie, and as his shimmery eyes smiled into mine, I finally knew where I belonged. And it felt like home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Where to start? So many people have helped me achieve this goal of writing a novel and—even more challenging—getting it published! Perhaps the best place to begin is where the dream ultimately came true: with HarperTeen and my wonderful editor—Karen Chaplin. I wouldn’t be writing this sentence if she hadn’t pulled Ivy from her pile and helped me bring this story to life. Thanks to everyone at HarperCollins who played a part in making
Between the Notes
a real, live book, and to my agent, Steven Chudney, for his patience and expertise along the way.

There are many others I want to thank, and hope I don’t miss anyone: To author Mary Kennedy, who was the first to say “go for it” when I shared my wish to write a novel; to Annie Norman and Patty Langley at the Delaware Division of Libraries and to Janet Hughes for asking me to work with them on the Delaware Book Festival, where I was inspired by authors like Laurie Halse Anderson and Jon Scieszka; to Stacey Burr for all the brainstorming and for not telling me how terrible those very first chapters I ever
wrote truly were; to Rhe De Ville for the twist on a kernel of an idea that got this story rolling; to my fabulous writing friends and critique partners—Tamara Girardi, Joy McCullough-Carranza, and Hilary T. Smith—for suffering through early drafts (and revision after revision) and for always being there when I need you, as well as readers Sarah and Cate Kastringer; and to the fabulous YA writing community, especially the TeenLitAuthors group and Fearless Fifteeners . . . thank you all so much! I am also indebted to Renee Bowers and Aaron Fichtelberg and their twins, Theo and Oliver, for giving me a glimpse into their very special life; to Little Invisibles’ singer-songwriter-pianist Gina Degnars and singer-songwriter Leah Awitan for insights on songwriting and stage fright; and to so many other friends and family members who have been cheering me on and anxiously awaiting the publication of this novel!

Finally, thanks, Mom, for the lessons in persistence, and Dad, for showing me that hard work pays off. Rich, I’m so glad you were totally on board with my decision to quit PR and start writing fiction. This novel probably won’t get us that house in France you’ve been wanting, but I’ll keep at it. Maybe someday . . .

And to Sebastian and Anna—thank you for inspiring me, believing in me, and always being eager to read my books. I hope there will be many more to come!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo by Carlos Alejandro

SHARON HUSS ROAT
grew up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and now lives in Delaware with her husband (who makes fonts), her son (who makes music), and her daughter (who makes believe!). She worked in public relations for twenty years before deciding what she
really
wanted to be when she grew up.
Between the Notes
is her debut novel. When she’s not writing (or reading) books for young adults, you might find her planting vegetables in her backyard garden or sewing costumes for a school musical. Visit her online at
www.sharonroat.com
or on Twitter @sharonwrote.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
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.

CREDITS

Cover design & hand lettering KATE J. ENGBRING

COPYRIGHT

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

BETWEEN THE NOTES
. Copyright © 2015 by Sharon Huss Roat. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

www.epicreads.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015933430

ISBN 978-0-06-229172-1

EPub Edition © May 2015 ISBN 9780062291745

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