I look between them, confused by what just happened, but as Auntie walks through the main office, I quickly realize that Idon’t care enough to stay alone with him to try and find out, and I don’t dare ask her.
Instead, I follow her back the way we came, silently, just like I was taught.
Without needing directions, she leads us to the recital hall, the building across from the rehearsal hall. A building I’ve never been to before, so I’m glad she knew how to get here at least.
We move down the center row toward the front, where I’m sure she will sit front and center, just like she always does when she comes. People are filing in here and there; some take their seats, others talk to friends, and some on the stage are still setting up. The dull hum of voices makes my head throb, and I wish I’d taken some medicine this morning before I ran out the door.
Auntie’s fingers close around mine, painfully pulling me from my thoughts and stopping me in my tracks.
“I never wanted you at this stupid school to begin with. Give me a reason to bring you back home, and I’ll make your life hell.” She releases me with a shove that makes me stumble before she takes her seat as if she didn’t just threaten me and leave me reeling.
I can’t go back; I won’t.
I swallow down the urge to scream and cry and tell the universe it’s not fair. Instead, walking around the side of the stage to go and get ready like the good little well-trained bitch I am.
It feels like it takes forever but somehow also goes by in the blink of an eye as I stand, waiting for my cue to go.
The second I move past the curtain, I feel every eye in the room, but the only ones that mean anything stand behind the curtain opposite of where I just exited.
Julian, Titus, Dimitri, and Felix stand where I can see them, but they’re hidden from the rest of the crowd. I hadn’t evenrealized they were there before, either too lost in thought or perhaps they just arrived.
Julian smiles and blows me a kiss, and I try not to, but I feel my cheeks heat as I fight to keep the smile off my face.
A girl at the microphone introduces this year's showcase and says a few other things I can’t process as I sit on the bench and try to keep myself under control.
I can feel the panic right below the surface, threatening to swallow me whole, but I push it away. I don’t have the time or luxury of being out of control right now.
Later.
The lights dim, and I hear her say my name and the piece I’ll be performing before the crowd goes silent. I breathe out for a count of eight before I start.
The second my fingers hit the first key, I know something is wrong, but there’s nothing to be done now.
Instead, I bite back tears as I play on, knowing that today will end badly as a low hush starts to build in the room.
Auntie will never take this as someone else's failure; I will be to blame, and in some ways, maybe I am.
I should have checked the piano, should have been practicing, should have kept my nose down and my mouth shut.
I finish the song, barely hitting the last key before I stand, nearly running from the stage opposite the way of the guys, even as I hear them call for me.
There will be hell to pay for this, for embarrassing Auntie, but I’m used to that. What I’m not used to is letting other people down, and right now I can’t stand the thought of seeing more pity in their eyes.
I wish I could just disappear.
Fuck.
We watched from behind the curtain as Wren came out to sit at the piano. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even noticed us at first. Then again, she’s been like that all week, a ghost of herself, here but not. She’s been crying in her sleep, having nightmares that grip her to the point that waking her is a task. Julian has had her sleep with him recently, and while she’s no longer screaming in her sleep, I’m not convinced she’s sleeping at all now. She’s been like this ever since Dimitri broke the news that her aunt would be here for her performance, though fixing her hair seems to have helped, even if it’s just the smallest amount.
I look at her aunt, who sits in the front row, head held high as if she’s important or even matters, and remind myself that killing is Felix’s thing, not mine. I might not like Wren, but there’s a difference between dislike and literal torture, and I have no doubt that’s what her aunt is capable of. I see it in her eyes, but more importantly, I see it in Wren’s. She’s haunted by so much, awake or asleep.
I turn my attention back to Wren just in time to see the little bit of color Julian managed to bring to her face with his flirting drain away, as if someone had taken every ounce of life left in her.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why, as muted sounds and off-key notes ring through the room, causing the crowd to break into hushed whispers.
I’ve never seen Wren play piano; none of us have, but I’ve seen the way she plays the cello and the violin, and I know this wasn’t her doing.
Wren doesn’t do anything in halves; she’s good at fucking everything, and as much as that might kind of drive me crazy, it also means she would never get on stage and give the crowd… this.
