"Parker!" My mom knocked on my dressing-room door.
"Come in," I said.
"Are you almost ready?" She asked.
"Yeah,"
My mahogany-colored hair was in loose curls to my shoulders. I wore a pair of short, dark-denim shorts that had a few rips, a black, short-sleeved cardigan that hung freely down to almost the bottom of my shorts. Under the cardigan was a gray cami, and my makeup was light, but it brought out my emerald-green eyes.
"You look great," My mom said.
"Thanks," I finished my glossing my lips, and stood up.
"Time to warm up?" I asked
"Yep," Mom answered, following me into the sound-proof room. All it had in it was five chairs and a keyboard.
My mom was my voice coach, so she played my warm-ups and helped me warm up. At the very end, my phone started ringing. Normally I would ignore calls, but this time I didn't. My best friend Jake's picture popped up, with his golden-brown hair and amazing brown eyes.
"Can I take this?" I asked Mom.
"Of course," She said.
"Hello?" I answered, barley containing my excitement.
"Hey, Parks," His clear, familiar voice answered.
"Jacob, are you okay? Why haven't you called me?" I was overcome with worry. Jake normally called me before every concert, and in-between. I hadn't heard a word from him in over two weeks.
"I'm fine," He said. I locked myself in my dressing room. I knew by his voice that he wasn't.
"Wanna talk?" I asked.
"No,"
"Yes," I argued.
"Yes. Dad threw my phone at me so hard it broke," He said quietly.
"Oh….Jake…," I didn't know what to say, "Are you alright?"
"Major bruising, but yeah…I guess…..,"
He was lying again.
"What else?"
"Nothing," He was a convincing liar to anyone else but me. But I let it go.
"Aw shoot! Dad just got home," He was whispering. Whatever he wasn't telling me was bad.
"Will you be okay?" Doors were slamming in the background, and I heard yelling.
"Yeah, but I gotta go. Knock 'em out Parks," He whispered hurriedly.
"'Kay. Be safe," I said. But it was too late. He had already hung up.
I performed perfectly, even though there was a ton on my mind. I called Jake as soon as the concert was over.
"Hello?" He said, almost silently.
"Are you alright?"
"No," He said. I could hear him holding back the tears.
"What is it? What did he do?"
"My…my arm. I think it's broke. He pushed me into the table, and it broke. He punched me for breaking it. He's asleep now though,"
"You have to get out of there! It's killing me to just hear you like that,"
"Where can I go, Parks? There is nowhere around here where he wouldn't find me. It's illegal too,"
"I don't know, anywhere. I wish you could come on tour with me,"
"Me too. Me too."