For Rye by Gavin Gardiner (books for 10th graders txt) 📗

grown woman, and nothing’s more imperative to me than my career – and making my parents proud. If you ever decide to bring Adelaide Addington to life, I swear I’d do her justice.’

‘You’ll certainly be the first to know.’ Renata stared into her cream soda. ‘Maybe I should come back later.’

‘Well, whatever. That’s cool,’ she said, scratching her nose. ‘But man, I’d love you to stay a while longer.’

She risked a glance at Sandie, probably about the same age as Renata when she’d been in the accident. Fifteen years she’d spent convalescing in hospital, beginning at the same point in life that this young girl was embarking upon a glamorous acting career with the support of a loving family. How far apart two lives could stray. Had Renata been raised with such love and support, where may she have ended up? A family of her own? She probably wouldn’t have wound up a suicidal hermit, anyway. But behind this sculpted façade of glamour and ambition, as well as her forced impressions of intellectuality, Sandie was still just a teenage girl, maybe even as confused and lonely as Renata had been at her age. There was something bubbling beneath the surface, beneath this well-rehearsed presentation of stardom and ambition.

‘Well, maybe I could wait with you,’ said Renata, ‘if you really don’t think he’ll be long.’

‘Miss Wakefield,’ said Sandie, hesitantly, ‘did you ever worry about making your parents proud when you were my age?’ So that’s what was bubbling underneath the surface: pressure, likely placed on herself by herself. ‘I mean, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just my mom and dad have done so much for me and I sometimes wonder if I’m, like, good enough. I just want to do right by them, y’know? Make it big so I can give back some of what they’ve given me – like you probably did with your parents.’

Renata squirmed in her seat. ‘Well…I don’t know, Sandie.’ She risked another glance at the girl. ‘I kept to myself when I was your age. Then I spent many years in hospital following an accident, so—’

‘I didn’t know that,’ interrupted Sandie. ‘What kind of accident?’

‘It was a car crash.’ Renata wrapped a loose thread from her sweater around her finger. ‘My memories of that time were left a bit fuzzy. Still, I don’t remember ever writing for anyone other than myself.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s great you want to make your mother and father proud, but in the end you have to do these things for yourself, because one day…’ she looked away ‘…you might find yourself alone.’

A moment’s pause settled between them. Sandie took a sip of cream soda, then set the glass down on top of an Entertainment Weekly, covering a grinning photo of herself. ‘My parents split when I was sixteen. I dunno, I guess I went through the same stuff every kid does when that happens. It was my fault, right? Had to be my fault. At least in my head it did.’ Renata watched the girl running a painted nail over the tattooed roses spiralling up her finger. ‘So if it’s my fault, if I screwed up my family, then it’s time to find a new family, right? So, between you and me, I went off the rails a bit. Not much, just a lot of partying, trying to find that ‘new family’. Never did, of course.’ Her voice wavered. She looked at the floor. ‘Did some stupid stuff, then realised it all comes back to your real family. Your blood. It hit me that, since Mom and Daddy were split, it was up to me to keep us all together. If I drifted away, so would they. Daddy never stops telling me how important I am to them, how much they love me.’ Renata saw her eyes glisten with what may have been the beginnings of tears. ‘It’s the least I can do to make them proud, y’know?’

Sandie cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. ‘God, look at me. I have Renata Wakefield in my trailer and all I can do is talk about myself! I’m sorry, Miss Wakefield. I’m so imbecilic.’

This teenager, this tanned, manicured, princess of a girl was so far from the teenaged Renata’s world, and yet she recognised so much. The details were different, but the deep-set confusion was the same. ‘Families are difficult, Sandie,’ she said, leaning forward. ‘It sounds like you’re doing great.’ She took a breath. ‘And…call me Renata.’

Their eyes met. Each filled the silence with a smile.

Suddenly the roar of Quentin’s Harley bellowed from outside. ‘That’s him!’ she cried, leaping from the sofa. ‘I have to go surprise him!’

Sandie threw open the trailer door and leapt onto the tarmac, adjusting her glasses as she went. The fence by the entrance clattered as the man-tank stumbled out of Quentin’s way, tripping into corrugated iron. The two boys in their Rye Productions t-shirts stared as Quentin stormed across the tarmac.

‘SANDIE,’ he yelled, marching towards the trailer. ‘What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come.’

She clasped her hands behind her back, batting her eyelashes and, perversely, pushing her chest out. Her efforts did nothing to mask her shock and disappointment at his tone. ‘Daddy, I…I just wanted to see you. You know how much I miss you when—’

‘ENOUGH,’ roared Quentin. The watching bystanders looked away nervously. He swung round to a nearby technician. ‘Is this her trailer?’

The teenager spoke for the technician, her voice hollow. ‘Yes, it is. Daddy, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She looked at the ground.

Quentin’s eyes suddenly fell on Renata. His expression softened. He stepped towards Sandie and placed his hands on her shoulders, lowering his voice to a gentle whisper. ‘You’re…everything to me. I just want to protect you. I have to protect you.’ He glanced back at