Sing by Vivi Greene Read Free Book Online Page A

could be where I am today. And “where I am today,” most days, feels like on top of the world. What kind of a person would throw all that away for tie-dye and a chore list? I breathe deeply, trying to reclaim the temporary peace I’d found, but it seems I’ve already lost it.
    There’s shuffling beside me and I look up to see Sammy rolling her mat. She holds a finger to her lips and nods to Tess across the room. She’s still sprawled out on the ground, and I can tell by the steady rise and fall of her chest, the heavy, outward tilt of her feet, that she’s sleeping.
    â€œWell, that sucked,” Tess grumbles, her yoga mat folded sloppily under her arm.
    Across the street from the yoga studio is Fresh, a vegan café. We’re staring at the chalkboard menu, deciding between shots of wheatgrass and house-brewed kombucha.
    â€œYeah, you looked like you were really struggling,”Sammy jokes, closing her eyes and lolling her head to one side, before breaking out in a fake snore.
    â€œMy point exactly. If I wanted to pay fifteen dollars to take a nap I could have gone to the movies. I don’t need a guru for that.”
    Tess leans her mat against the counter and pushes in front of us to squint at the menu. As she’s looking, the line shifts and I see that Maya, our serenely smiling instructor, has walked in behind us. She greets a few familiar faces and falls into line.
    â€œFire cider?” Tess asks, making a face. “Kombucha? Is it a requirement for there to be at least one insufferable hippie establishment within a hundred feet of every yoga studio on the planet?”
    I clear my throat as Sammy looks pointedly over Tess’s shoulder. “What?” Tess asks. She turns around and Maya wiggles her fingers in a teasing wave.
    Tess’s face, still pink from the heat of the studio, flushes an even deeper crimson. “Oh,” she says. “Hey. I didn’t mean . . .”
    â€œNo, it’s a really good question.” Maya nods, a spirited sparkle in her big green eyes. “I’ll have to take it up with my guru .”
    Sammy and I laugh while Tess fidgets uncomfortably. It’s not very often that she’s put on the receiving end of this kind of banter, and it’s entertaining to watch.
    â€œI’m only teasing,” Maya says, touching Tess lightly on the shoulder. “But you really should try the fire cider. It’s life-changing.”
    As a peace offering, I insist on treating Maya to a cider shot, and she suggests that I get a round for the rest of us, too.
    â€œWhat’s in it?” Sammy asks as the barista hands over the squat glasses. She leans in and crinkles her nose at the pungent smell.
    â€œIt’s vinegar infused with horseradish and a bunch of other stuff,” Maya explains. “It’s like a power-washing for your insides.”
    â€œAnd that’s a good thing?” Tess asks quietly, clearly still recovering from the taste of her own foot in her mouth.
    Maya smiles. “It’s never a bad idea to start over,” she says, holding up her shot glass. It may be something in her eye, but I swear she winks at me as we clink glasses. For a paranoid second, I wonder if she was actually reading my mind in class.
    We knock back our ciders—it’s like a mix between mouthwash and a Bloody Mary, in a not entirely unpleasant way—and say good-bye to Maya, promising to come back to class next weekend.
    There’s a small corner table in the back of the café and I duck toward it. A freckled girl with pigtails stopsme on the way to ask for a photo, and I oblige. It’s only happened a handful of times since we’ve been here, and everyone has been so polite that I haven’t minded, but today, it gives me a little shock. It’s been amazingly easy to forget that I’m famous. I sort of expect that everyone else has forgotten, too.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Tess