“Right. You. Yes, of course. Which song did you pick?” Miss Umber sounds flustered as she drops her bag onto the tiny desk. She’s far too old to be a miss, she should have at least switched out to be a Ms. by now. Her startlingly white hair is chopped off into a severe-looking bob with bangs, and her glasses are too large for her face. On a teeny runway model it would have looked fashionable, but on the aging teacher it looks unflattering. I’d much rather sit here and pick apart her appearance than start my assessment. When Miss Umber turns to give me a look, I snap to it.
“Pompeii. By Bastille,” I croak. Not a good sign of my vocal abilities for the day.
“Good choice! Do you need music, or are you going to play an instrument?”
I hold up my phone to show her the instrumental song I have prepared. I had learned a handful of songs on guitar, this one included, but I didn’t want to tempt fate by putting too much pressure on myself. I run through the warm-ups under her watchful eye, and I realize this is the most amount of attention she’s ever given me. This is definitely the first time she’s ever heard my voice, because I always hide among the other students in class.
Once I have the phone set up and the music starts, I slip my noise-canceling headphones in, and then I sing.
My eyes slip shut and I forget Miss Umber is even in the room. For the first time I can focus on the feeling of singing, the rush of my body working hard at something that isn’t entirely physical, and I lose myself in it. I sway and swing my arms for emphasis, the way I’ve watched Blaise do a thousand times before. I can hear myself, but the headphones tone it down just enough that I can immerse myself fully into the act of singing rather than the sound.
It’s incredible.
I feel like a piece of me that I lost years ago has come back. It’s healing to think that the damage done to me at the hands of the Jackal and the Game could be healed. I can someday be a whole person again. I can feel the tears prickling at the back of my eyes, and I know the second I open them, they will fall. If I can stay at this school and survive everything being torn down around me, I can pull myself up and out of the world I was born into. I can make something of myself through sheer will and perseverance alone.
When the last word slips out from my lips, my chest is heaving and my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I give myself a second before I open my eyes, just a moment to collect myself so I don’t fall to my knees and sob like a child. When I pull the earbuds out, I hear clapping and I grin at Miss Umber. She’s looking at me the exact same way she looks at Blaise when he sings, like I’ve exceeded all her expectations and dreams as a teacher.
“Miss Anderson! I’ve never—you are a rare talent!” She grips my hand tightly in hers and tugs me into a hug. I try not to freeze or flail awkwardly, but I’m not hugged often enough to be comfortable. I can't actually remember the last time I was hugged. As she lets me go, I turn and see Avery standing in the doorway, her jaw damn near hitting the ground.
She’s heard me sing.
I feel exposed. Worse than even my 911 call, I feel like she can see inside me. I'd given up singing so long ago that not even Matteo has heard me. Only my dead mum, and she took the memories of my singing to the grave with her.
I break away from her slack-jawed stare and turn back to our teacher, a flush staining my cheeks. I don’t know what to do with myself, and I nod along dumbly as Miss Umber gushes to me.
“I can’t believe I’ve missed your voice so far this year! Your range rivals Mr. Morrison’s. Has he heard you sing?”
Oh, god. There is no way I want him to ever hear me.
“I don’t think so. It’s not… I’m not interested in performing. I’d rather stick to the group sessions.”
Once she’s finished marking my rubric, I take the page and flee the room.
Avery hasn’t moved from the doorway, and I have to brush past her to leave. She doesn’t move to let me pass, and when I look down at her fist, I see the pages I’d slipped under her door crumpled in her hands.
* * *
Hannaford prides itself on ‘encouraging’ its students to excel by posting all grades publicly. It’s never bothered me because I’ve always had top spot, or occasionally second spot if Harley beats me. I would feel bad for the other students here who land closer to the bottom if I didn’t already know they were going to be millionaires the moment they turn eighteen and get their trust funds.
The first time I decide I hate this system is when the choir marks are posted. That’s when I learn Blaise has never come second in that class in his life.
I’ve beaten him by a teeny-tiny margin.
I take my usual seat with Lauren, Jessie, and Dahlia, and I try to ignore the eyes that are on me. Lauren leans toward me and then stops dead as Avery and Blaise walk in. I had expected Avery to have told Blaise about my singing, but one look at him tells me she didn’t.
“What. The. Fuck.”
He whips around to look at me, and I glue my eyes to Miss Umber so I can keep blanking him. The students around us start to murmur and gasp, but I don’t let my gaze waver. Miss Umber claims first place in my list of favorite teachers by starting the lesson before Blaise can confront me.
“Mr. Morrison, Miss Beaumont, if you could both take your seats so we can begin! Please start our usual warm-ups, and then we can start discussing what each student can be working to improve on before our next assignments.”
There is no way I want to discuss my singing with the whole class, but short of faking an illness, there is nothing I can do to get out of it. And then Miss Umber tumbles back down to the bottom of the list by ruining my life.
“Miss Anderson, can you please swap groups? I’d like you and Mr. Morrison together, where I can monitor your progress accordingly.”
Every eye in the room is on me.
I flush scarlet and pray that a stroke takes me out. There is no justice in the world, because my heart continues to beat and I’m forced to collect my bag and move across the room. Miss Umber holds out a seat for me, and then I’m sitting right next to the devil herself. Blaise is still trying to catch my eye, but I will not play his game.
