“Don’t,” he barks sharply. His hand fists the wheel until his knuckles turn white.
I wish the seat would swallow me whole. Zain doesn’t need sorrow or pity. He wants me to feel what he feels, to understand. In his mind, he’s not broken. He is who he is, even if it’s fucked-up. He needs to know I accept him. Every fucked-up part.
“You never have to pretend to be anything different with me.”
My words don’t have any noticeable effect on his expressions, but I can tell by the way his shoulders relax he appreciates my words in his own way.
The Cadence Building is brimming with excitement. The band is practicing their scales and tuning their instruments as Mr. Stirling frantically waves in the directions they need to be. I brush past everyone as I head to the restroom. My insides are coiled tight like a snake. So much has changed in the last few days. I’m not sure how to act.
Most of the student body will be in attendance tonight along with scouts.
After Zain brought us back, I was far too grief-stricken to go back to my dorm and face Clara. I just know she will press until I cave and expeleverything. I smooth out my black dress and fix my red lipstick in the mirror. I make sure my smoky eye is flawless. A heavy breath leaves my lips. My fingers twist together to keep my anxiety at bay.
For a brief moment, I almost wish I had one of those little pills Zain gives me to calm my nerves. I know they’re not good for me. That seems to be my MO lately. I’m atavistically drawn to all things bad for me, like a corrosive substance.
I head towards the stage, leaving my fear behind.Pull yourself together. “Vesper, have you practiced your scales? Is your piano tuned?”
I whirl around so fast my long hair slaps my cheek. “Yes,” I nod.
Mr. Stirling offers me a warm smile. “You’re going to do great. We’re on in five!” He squeezes my shoulder in assurance.
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat and pace behind the velvet curtains. The band sets up their instruments along the rows of chairs. The room grows silent aside from the gentle murmur of voices from the audience behind the curtain. Mr.Stirling stands near the edge and mouths the countdown. I take a deep, measured breath
.Life goes on, Vesper. You’ve got this.
The curtains swing open, and the crowd whispers in hushed tones. All eyes are on me. I take a tentative step in front of me. My heels echo against the stage floor. The stool and piano are illuminated under a soft white halo. Everyone waits tentatively for me to settle in. My nerves suddenly calm, and at this moment, nothing else matters. Not my father’s betrayal and death. Not Zain’s connection to me. Not the Void.
My heartbeat slows, remembering every moment of Zain and I together on the stool. I close my eyes and imagine him here with me. His soft hands on my shoulder, commanding me to play. His warm breath feathering down my neck while he brings me to my pinnacle.
My eyes flick open. Mr. Stirling takes a spot in front of the band. They all wait on my cue. My hands hover over the keys without pressing them, acquainting myself with them once again. Then, like riding a bike, I start “Carol of the Bells.” The band follows suit, adding their dark, dulcet twist. My entire being is thrown into the song, giving it all I have. Each note is like a magical dream. Mr. Stirling cues the backup vocals from the choir. I suck in a deep breath before belting out the lyrics. Lining up the tempos with the piano along with my vocals is difficult for even the most seasoned musician.
I let the music overtake me. I let myself be brave enough to open my eyes. Zain and Kieran are stationed in the front row. I spot a few scouters in the adjoining rows. All their support gives me the boost of confidence I need to get through this. My melodious voice rings through the auditorium. Mr. Stirling waves his hands wildly, directing the band and choir. My confidence grows with each passing moment. I don’t miss a single key. Thesong crescendos, and I pick up the pace. My hands move in practiced precision. The ending cuts off into a dramatic silence, and loud applause echo through the theater. I catch my breath and release the strangled tension in my core. I get to my feet with a practiced smile. The clapping dies down to a dull roar as Mr. Grimshaw approaches the stage. His tweed jacket is buttoned neat, pocket watch chain slapping against his brass buttons. Mr. Stirling hands him the microphone and he taps against the top a few times, making the speakers crackle.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending our one hundred and ninth Requiem Music symphony. This was one of the most outstanding performances I’ve had the pleasure of watching. Our very own Vesper Santi did a wonderful job.” He paces around the stage. “I have taken the liberty of setting up a small banquet in the Ops Building. Have a wonderful holiday season, and we will see you when classes resume after the new year.”
A round of applause breaks from the crowd, and slowly students file out of the theater. I descend the staircase, shimmying down the aisleway towards Zain and Kieran. They’re in an intense discussion about something, so I don’t interrupt and instead, when I spot Clara a few seats over, head her way.
She beams at me, and it offers me nothing but guilt. “Oh, Vesp, that was amazing!” She draws me in for a fierce hug. She pulls back, bracing herself against my shoulders. “Now, where the hell have you been?” she exclaims.
I’m not ready to tell her just yet. Once things die down, I plan to reveal it all to her, minus a few details shemaynot approve of. I hate to be the reason she falls into another downward spiral. When I don’t respond, she plants her hand on her hips and teases me. “You slept at Zain’s, didn’t you?” She smirks, feeling me out.
I offer a sheepish grin. “Maybe.” I shrug, refusing to give myself away.
She giggles and laces her elbow with mine. “Well, come on! Spill it!” She leads us down the crowded aisle towards the theater edge lit with flickering candelabras.
“There’s nothing to spill,” I lie through my teeth.
She knows my tells, just as I know hers. Her face falls. She slumps her shoulders in defeat. “Fine,” she pokes a finger at my chest. “But I expect answers soon.” She half smiles, weaving us through the emptying crowd.
We continue walking along the edge, but she suddenly seems lost in thought and goes quiet. Something must be going on again. I was so proud that she hadn’t had an episode since Thanksgiving. Her anxiety and panic disorder rears its ugly head when she is faced with triggering events. Maybe she already knows about everything? Did Kieran tell her? She refuses to open and keeps the reason for her shift in mood a mystery. One day I’ll break through her gates. Until then, she knows I’m here for her.
“You okay?” I ask gently. She releases my arm and crosses hers over her chest, appearing closed off.
She nods. “Just missed you,” she plasters on a fake smile, but I can tell it isn’t genuine.
It’s fake and practiced. I know better than to push. “Missed you too,” I smile.“Vesper.” Zain’s booming voice draws me in from the other side of the theater. Kieran has already gone. Clara nudges me off with a promise to text later. I think she figures I might stay with Zain instead of at the dorm, but Zain and I haven’t really discussed it.“Hey.” I smile up at him, he’s leaning against a lofty carved column.
His brows furrow as he furiously types something on his phone. He propels off the column, and I can’t help but rove over his handsome dark features.
