Audition & Subtraction by Amy Fellner Dominy

thought if we had a chance to talk …”
    â€œYou mean you want to grill me for info?”
    â€œThat’s one way of saying it.” He set the box on the counter. “Mostly, I wanted to spend some time with you. Usually, we eat and you disappear with your clarinet.”
    â€œMaybe I don’t want to talk.”
    â€œThen we don’t have to. We could just make a cake.” His green eyes smiled at me along with his crooked grin. Beard stubble shadowed his cheeks, and the Red Sox T-shirt I’d given him for his birthday hung in wrinkles over his jeans.
    How could I say no with my dad looking at me like that? I sighed. “Okay, but I’m in charge because you’ll mess it up.”
    He broke into a huge smile. For some reason, that made my throat tighten. He had so many lines crinkling up at the edge of his eyes—more lines than I’d seen in a long time.
    â€œYou be the captain,” he said, “and I’ll copilot.”
    I held out my hand for the cake mix. He passed it to me, and I read the directions. “You have eggs?”
    He went for the ingredients while I ripped open the box.
    â€œSo auditions are a week from Saturday, right?” he asked.
    I nodded.
    â€œYou ready?”
    â€œGetting there.”
    He set the carton of eggs on the counter. “And you have a whole night at a hotel with all of your friends? You must be excited.” He raised one eyebrow, like I should fill him in.
    I ripped open the plastic wrap in the box and dumped the mix into a bowl. “Yeah.”
    â€œYou know …” He straightened and drummed on the counter with his fingers. “I got you something. Maybe now is a good time to give it to you.”
    He disappeared into the laundry room. I waited, my hands around the glass bowl of cake mix, a few butterflies of excitement flitting around my stomach in spite of my bad mood.
A present?
    A minute later, he was back, a small velvet box in his hands.
Jewelry?
I wiggled open the black lid. A gold charm bracelet lay inside, and attached was an engraved heart: HONOR BAND.
    â€œDad.” I closed the lid, the butterflies dropping like dead gnats. “I haven’t made it yet.”
    â€œI know,” he said. “Mom told me I should wait, but you made it last year. Plus, I was afraid I’d be gone working when you find out. This way, it can also be a good-luck charm.”
    â€œI hope you can return it,” I said, handing it back to him.
    â€œWhy?” His voice deepened with surprise.
    I studied the cake directions. “We need half a cup of water.”
    â€œTatum!” He came up beside me and turned me with a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on? You’ve been talking about District Honor Band all year.”
    â€œNothing’s going on,” I snapped. “I just may not make it.”
    â€œDoes this have something to do with the new guy? Your mother told me there was a new clarinetist.”
    â€œHalf a cup of water,” I said again.
    He didn’t take the hint. Both of his hands circled my shoulders. “You’re not just going to let him take the spot from you without a fight, are you?”
    â€œIt’s not like we’re going to wrestle for it.”
    â€œYou know what I mean, honey. You have to believe in yourself. You have to go for it. Are you doing everything you can?”
    â€œYes.” I pulled away, grabbing the measuring cup myself. As I filled it at the sink, a tiny traitorous voice piped up and asked,
Are you really doing everything you can?
The voice came from my backpack. From the solo music still stuck inside a folder. Mr. Wayne had said the music was singing my name. Maybe it was, because I swear, it kept calling to me. Maybe it was possessed. Maybe
I
was possessed. Only, if I were, I’d go demon on Michael and slice off his pouty lips.
    I dumped the water into the bowl and stirred. “Can we just