Wolfe pointed to another girl, Carla Salazar.
“That one,” Wolfe said. “She poured herself into her piece, but her metering and timing were absolute shite. Yet if I had to choose between terrible metering or passion, I would pick passion every day of the week. Can you not hear that, class? The void in Orion’s playing? The emptiness?”
The room was silent and cold as space. My hands felt like ice in my lap.
Wolfe paced, his own hands behind his back. “The truly great pianists master the craft, and then they bleed into the music the way a writer bleeds into their words. The way an actor weeps over their lines, and if you think what I’m saying is melodramatic, or that I’m being a cruel bastard, then you can leave this class right now because you’re wasting my bloody fucking time.”
More silence.
“Based on what I heard today, I’ll email individually assigned pieces that you will play for us next time. Practice and come back Monday.” Professor Wolfe waved a black-nailed hand. “I’m done with you. Go.”
The students gathered their things and walked out, exchanging stares and mouthing OMGs to each other. Orion strode out the fastest. I hurried to catch up.
“Orion, wait.”
Now it was his turn to stop and glare at me in the hallway, and it was almost heartbreaking to see him devoid of his smile, his humor… thattwinklein his eye.
“What?” he asked flatly.
“I just wanted to say that Wolfe is full of shit—”
“No, he’s not. He knows exactly what he’s talking about.”
I took a step back, shocked.
“What? Do you think you know everything about me because I’m rich?” Orion demanded. “Do you think it’s easy being me because of my last name?”
“I…I don’t know,” I managed. It was the most honest thing Icould think to say.
“Hm.” Orion looked over my head at the crowded hallway full of students, thinking, then flashed me his smile. Like a mask or a habit. It didn’t touch his eyes, didn’t light them up at all. “Are you going to the big bonfire this weekend?”
I blinked at the hairpin change of subject. “Oh. I think so. Dean Yearwood mentioned—”
“Brilliant. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Chapter 6Orion
I crawled into Saturday morning on my hands and knees. Oneshort week of classes and my brain was already exhausted from the workarounds. It was a relief to go down to the docks for crew tryouts.
I wasn’t too worried about making the team. Coach Daniels liked me. I was a strong two seat with the proper weight and skill set. Not big enough for the power needed in the middle of the shell, and not as important as bow or stroke. I figured I was safe.
I stood on the dock and listened as Coach bellowed instructions to newbies who’d never rowed before in their life, the poor bastards. Tucker, Rhett, Brent, and a few other veterans snickered, cocky as hell.
One new guy was a Bender in glasses and a sweatshirt from some school in Maryland. When Coach Daniels went down the line taking names and positions, this guy announced himself as Xander Ford, bow seat.
Xander.
This must be the “fresh meat” with no car.
Given how Brent, last year’s bow seat, was giving Xander the stinkeye, I assumed he was one and the same.
Bow seat meant Xander would be sitting right behind me if he got a spot. We watched together as the first bunch of guys went out in a shell and proceeded to make complete arses of themselves.
“What a bloody shit show,” I muttered.
Xander nodded. “Agreed.”
