I only hope she can trust him.And that he won’t hurt her like Henry did last year.
I don’t know much, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I don’t have time for that crap.Falling in love, opening up to someone, and them letting you down.
Fantino’s name is the one that springs to mind, and that ought to make me think.After all, I hate him.And I really have no desire to speak about him.I get the feeling that Tori’s not buying that, but at least she doesn’t mention him again, even once we’re walking back up to the school in time for study hour.
I work my way through a mountain of prep, then read the notes I’ve borrowed from my friends in the last couple of days.After two and a half hours of calculations, my brain is smoking, and I have to admit that I might be lacking some background knowledge that would help me understand the upper-sixth work.I feel no better in the dining room at dinner.Luckily, I’m nowhere near Colin.All the voices and chatter seem too loud.I’m knackered when I finally drop into bed at wing time.
I can already tell that this is one of those days when, however tired I am, my head is just going to love replaying a bunch of panic scenarios as I try to fall asleep.I make an effort to put the thoughts aside, but it’s tough.I must have nodded off eventually, though, because I smell fire and dream my stupid I-want-to-run-but-my-legs-won’t-carry-me dream.I sit up with a start, heart pounding.For a few seconds, I can’t move.Then the paralysisbreaks.My eyes fill with tears, and rage rises inside me.I punch my pillow because I’m fucking sick of this, then grind my teeth as the pain twinges through my shoulder.So much for the amazing progress Andrea was on about this afternoon.
But the physical pain is the least of my problems just now.I’d take it gladly if it would get rid of the horrors in my head.
God, will this ever stop?And why is it still just as bad as ever?Even though part of my consciousness knows perfectly well that they’re only dreams, my body doesn’t care—it switched into flight mode ages ago.And that’s knackering.It’s just so knackering.
I rub my face with both hands, then rest my head on them and force myself to breathe evenly.
This evening, telling myself over and over again that everything is fine is just not going to work.I realize that when I’m still shaking even after several minutes.My eyes are burning, my head aches, but I get up anyway, because the only things that will really help now are fresh air and movement.
Tonight I’m desperate enough that I’d actually consider going to see Ms.Vail.But the school psychologist is only available in her office in the south wing in the daytime.And by daylight, my problems seem way more manageable than they do at night.The flashbacks only start after dark, when I’m trying to get some rest.Almost like my sneaky brain is waiting until I’ve stopped bothering it with trivial everyday thoughts so that it can start taking things out on me.
My feet carry me out into the dark corridors, and today it takes me ages to start feeling better.I go up and down staircases,wander aimlessly around corners.I must be somewhere in the north wing when I hear something.
I stop and listen to the darkness.Maybe I’m actually going out of my mind.But then I hear it again.Quiet notes, a tune that seems vaguely familiar.It’s drawing me like magic down the corridor toward the theater.At first I think the music must be coming from there, but then I stop outside a door a few yards further on.I’ve no idea what’s in this room.The props and costumes are stored behind the stage, but apparently there are musical instruments here.I pause outside the room that the sound is coming from and listen.Then I notice that the door isn’t quite shut.It’s open a wee crack.
I hold my breath as I push it to peek in.I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the sight of Colin Fantino playing a grand piano.
The melody comes to an end, and I’m about to creep away when I spot his phone on the music stand in front of him.
“That was perfect, Col,” says a bright voice.
“Got another?”he asks hastily, because he’s clearly as bad at accepting compliments as I am.He’s got his back to me, but I can hear that he’s smiling.I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so gentle, and part of me is genuinely surprised that he’s even capable of it.
“Yeah, wait.”
I stand slightly on tiptoe so that I can squint at the screen over his shoulder and see a wee girl’s face.She looks like a younger version of Colin, and her accent is the same as his too.He has a sister?Must suck for him that she isn’t here at the school too.
She plays a song I recognize, and it makes me smile.I don’t know what it’s called, but I’m pretty sure it’s on Tori’s boak-worthy “Hot Guy Shit” playlist.
“Seriously, Cleo?”Colin groans.“You need to find bands that still exist.”
“One Direction are getting back together,” the lassie says, dead serious.“Someday.”
“You were in kindergarten when they split up.I don’t get it—why are kids your age all into them again?”
“TikTok,” she says, putting her finger to her lips so that Colin will shut up and listen to the music.
His sweatshirt strains slightly over his broad shoulders; his left knee bobs up and down in time with the beat.His fingers flicker over the keys but don’t press them.After a few seconds, he nods.“Yeah, OK.I reckon I’ve got it.”
“Oh, my God, I can’t wait.”She stops the track.
Colin lowers his head, and I get goose bumps as he starts to play.He’s good.I know right away it’s the same song, and he’s playing with such ease.Can he really do that, just out of his head?I’m impressed.
I don’t seem to be the only one.The wee lassie beams, and when Colin’s finished, she applauds enthusiastically.
“That was way cool,” she says.“And I think someone else is listening.”
Colin whirls around.I step back and crash into the doorframe.The pain that jars through my shoulder makes my eyes water.Dull throbbing, nausea right in my throat.
Breathe.Just breathe and stand up straight.
