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“Come,” he said. “Take this.”
I slinked forward but kept my hands behind my back. “I don’t want to break it.”
“You won’t break it unless you’re careless.”
I sucked in a breath and held it, reaching delicately to take the violin from him. I cradled it between my hands, my fingers smoothing over the wood, feeling the cool material with my fingertips. Even the smell of the wood and polish and resin made me tremble with nervousness.
“We’re here to play, not to look at it.” His steel gaze settled on my face. He held out the bow.
I nodded, bringing the violin to my neck like I had seen countless times in videos and pictures. The violin was lighter than I expected it to be and yet the length of it made me feel clumsy just holding it. Taking the bow from him, I held it loosely between my fingers and I waited for instructions.
Mr. Blackbourne inclined his head. His fingertips traced my elbow and I lifted the violin higher. He repositioned the violin at my neck until the very center of it was pointed at the middle of my throat. He stepped around behind me, checking the angle from next to my head. “Do you see the strings? Do you see how I’ve positioned it?”
I looked, catching the straight line down the neck of the violin.
“This is how it should look every time you pick up your violin. You need to get used to this now. Keeping good habits from the beginning will make this more comfortable for you. Posture and balance are important.” His breath teased the back of my hair as he spoke. I smothered my trembling. He was so close, only he was so focused on my posture, I wasn’t sure he noticed.
“I understand,” I said. I elevated the bow, settling the horsehair strings on a spot against the violin’s bridge, ready to be directed to the next step.
Mr. Blackbourne straightened immediately, and snatched the bow from my hands. “Not yet,” he said, the sharpness of his voice returning.
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “No?”
“No.” He wrapped his hand around my wrist, moving the violin from my neck. “Now put it back where I placed it.
I did what he instructed, pushing the end of the violin to my neck.
“Check the strings.”
I looked and he was right. I adjusted the neck to hold it up straighter.
“Put your chin against the rest.”
I did.
“Let go of the violin.”
I blinked at him, shocked. Would he have me wreck his beautiful instrument? “I’ll drop it.”
“If you’re holding the violin right between your chin and your shoulder, you won’t drop it. Let go of the violin,” he instructed, his voice rising.
I hesitated. I couldn’t afford to pay for another one. Visions of the violin crashing to the floor and splintering into a million pieces floated past my eyes. He had to be crazy to trust me to hold on to it. “I don’t think I should.”
He seized my hand from the neck of the violin and pulling my hand away in a sharp motion. It jarred me forward and the violin nearly slid away but I pushed my chin down on the rest, hiking up my shoulder to hold to it. The violin dangled precariously.
He frowned, letting go of my hand. “Put the violin back into position.”
My fingers shook. I picked the violin up and put it back against my neck, checking the lines of the strings to make it straight.
“Now let go, this time without scrunching your neck.” His steel gaze penetrated through to my own heart, as if he knew exactly how fast it was beating.
“I almost lost it last time.”
“Now!” His voice intensified, echoing throughout the music room.
I closed my eyes. My hand slid away from the neck of the violin. I did my best not to move my chin or shoulder to try to compensate.
The violin rocked forward but remained balanced.
“Good,” Mr. Blackbourne said, softer this time.
I opened my eyes to gaze on the violin, noting how badly it shook as my body shivered.
He crossed his arms, circling me. I kept my hand down, fearing he would smack it away again. He stopped behind me. I looked out toward the opposite wall, holding my breath.
“You did well, Miss Sorenson,” he said softly. “It’s important for a young lady to speak up and ask questions, or even resist an order when a situation seems dangerous.” He treaded around again until he was facing me. He grasped the violin by the neck, taking it from my shoulder.
I gazed at the floor. He was testing me. Did he need to do this to teach me music?
His hand touched my chin. The tender fingertips lifted my head until I was looking back into those gray eyes.
“I also need you to trust me,” he said softly. “Beyond doubt. Beyond probably what you’ve ever been comfortable with in your life. If you’ll allow me the chance...” His lips pursed as he scrutinized my eyes.
My cheeks radiated with heat. My throat felt dry and I wanted to swallow but I was too afraid to move. He held me captivated by his command and confidence.
His eyebrow lifted and he let go of my chin, stepping back. “I expect you to have your own instrument by tomorrow.”
I felt my mouth drop open. “I...” There was nothing to say. Was he expecting me to just magically create one? How could I convince my parents to rush out and pay for a violin by that evening?
“Tomorrow.” His voice rose to that sharp severity. “Don’t come to class unless you have one.”
When the bell rang, I collected my bag and ran out into the hallway. There was no way I could get a violin by tomorrow. I felt my chest grow heavy with anticipation of the argument I would have to face with my mom that afternoon. I wondered if I would be back at all.
H ungry
Out in the hallway, I realized for the first time since that morning that I was walking without the boys around me. I slowed to a nervous pace. I had gotten used to their company. Without them there, I felt a little lost.
Now that I was alone, however, I wasn’t so distracted by the guys that I was able to check out some of the other students. As I tugged my bookbag tighter to my body, I spotted how some people would cluster along the walls of the hallways, talking with friends, holding hands. I even spotted a couple kissing in the shadows near a doorway. I blushed at catching someone in such an intimate moment and turned away.
As I walked, I couldn’t help but notice how people reacted whenever I was within view. Everyone seemed curious about every face they didn’t recognize. Would this girl like me? Would he make fun of my clothes?
A sharp whistle cut through the hall, a cat call. I twisted my head in reaction at the first tone. A group of boys leaned against the wall. They laughed together and I wasn’t quite sure if their whistling was meant for me or for any of the other girls around me.
“Sang!” Victor’s voice sounded from behind me. I turned in time to spot him trying to hustle past some other students to get to me. “You should have waited by the door,” he said. His cheeks were flushed. His white collared shirt looked rumpled. He smoothed some of his wavy brown hair back away from his forehead. “I was coming for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Mr. Blackbourne...”
“Oh. Yeah,” he said, smiling. “No need to say more. But next time wait for me. I’ll come get you.” He moved next to me so we were walking together.
“Sticking together?” I asked.
His slender frame seemed to move so elegantly next to me that I felt clumsy even though I was just walking. “It’s what we do.”
I smiled. “How was your morning so far?”
He shrugged. “It’s not the Academy.”
I blinked at him, surprised that he would say it out loud. “Isn’t that supposed to be a secret?”
“No one’s listening,” he said.
What he said confused me. I couldn’t figure out what this secret school must be like. I imagined dark hallways and masks and other students who were just as intelligent and beautiful as the boys were. Compared to the cracked tiles of the
floor, the lack of variety in the classes, and the rambunctious students of Ashley Waters High School, what would inspire nine people to bother with trying to make it better?
“So how was Mr. Blackbourne?” he asked.
“I need to get a violin by tomorrow,” I said. “Or I can’t go back.”
He smiled. “Yeah, he’s strict. Can you get one?”
“It’s kind of short notice but I’ll have to ask my parents. My mom isn’t too happy with me right now.”
His fire eyes flickered. “I can go get you one.”
I shook my head. “Victor, you can’t...”
“Is this the right way?” he asked. He turned his head, looking for the right door. I had a feeling he knew it was the correct way but he had wanted to change the subject.
We had to walk outside and down the long sidewalk to the trailer furthest away from the school, number thirty-two. While the crowd thinned out considerably the further out we went, Victor still walked close beside me so that his arm was slightly in front of mine. Anyone who gave us a glance might have thought we were holding hands. Was this how other friends walked together?
He opened the door of the trailer for me. North was already inside, sitting in the back row. I grabbed the seat in front of him and Victor sat in front of me.
“I’m in the middle again,” I said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you guys planned this.”
North playfully tugged at a strand of hair hanging in my face. “Baby, we plan everything.”
I didn’t doubt this. Now their plans involved me, dictating where I was sitting or who walked with me to class. Strange but I found some comfort in it. I only wished I knew what they knew so I didn’t feel like I was in the dark. Maybe it only took getting used to.
