Orion played it flawlessly, beautifully. The music moved from slow, melodic, and melancholy, into the faster desperation of a composer in agony—quiet moments of despair, then earthquakes of heartbreak. But it was as if Orion were a tool for the music, but not part of it.
Wrong. You’re letting Wolfe get to you. He plays like a miracle.
Orion was a musical genius. No doubt about it. If he abandoned the piano to follow in his family’s footsteps, it would be a crime against humanity. The music world would lose a tremendous gift and not even know it, because he carried his talent around in his back pocket like an afterthought.
Orion abruptly stopped playing. He picked up his phone and hit a button. The next movement in the Nocturne played, and he listened, eyes closed. Then he stopped the track, set the phone down, and played the same section. An exact replica, as if taking dictation.
I slipped away, trying to understand what I had just seen and heard.
It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
That was true. I’d spent the weekend studying and fuming at my mother’s negligence, but also strengthening my resolve that Orion and I would be working together as lab partners and possibly against each other for the Novus Science project. That’s all. There was no earthly reason to do—or be—anything else.
But the beauty in his playing and the weight of his jacket at the bonfire—like borrowed armor—made me wonder if I’d walked away too fast. If I’d let old hurt pull up the drawbridge and keep Orion out.
I’d spent my life bracing for calamity, afraid even a crack ofsomething good could break me.
As I left the Academy, one word followed me on the last notes of his music.
Maybe.
***
Monday morning, as talk about Jack Wallace filled the hallways, I used the restroom before chemistry. I stepped out of the stall to wash my hands, and suddenly Aria Kingston and Elowen Blake were behind me. My heart started to pound.
“Harper, right?” Aria said. Her eyes were like black glass. “You’re new here.”
“Yeah,” I said, rinsing my hands and reaching for the paper towel dispenser.
“Let me.” Elowen was faster, pulling two sheets and handing them to me with a fake smile.
“Thanks.”
“Where were you before?” Aria asked.
“Pennsylvania,” I said. “Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh,” Aria said with a laugh. “That totally makes sense.”
Elowen wasn’t laughing. “I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night. About how I found you with Orion, all cozy on a log, wearing his jacket, no less.”
Aria pulled out a tube of lip gloss and began applying it in the mirror. “Here’s the thing, Harper fromPittsburgh. I’ll explain this to you because you’re new and obviously don’t know the deal.” She smacked her lips together with apopand turned to me. “Orion is up here.” She reached her hand overhead, palm facing down. “He’s Big Five. One of the kings of the school.”
“Royalty,” Elowen put in.
“And El and I, we’re, like, here.” Aria moved her hand slightly lower. “We might not be royalty but we’re… How to put it?”
“Nobility.”
“Exactly. And you…” Aria put her hand parallel to the ground at knee level. “You’re down here.”
I clenched my jaw, feeling my cheeks burn and hating it.
“What we’re saying,” Elowen said, “is that kings of the school do not associate so far down the ladder. It just doesn’t happen.”
“But it’s okay!” Aria said, oozing false friendliness. “You didn’t know. Which is why you were hanging out with Orion. He’s a sweetheart and will often take pity on Benders, but it’s not like he’d ever get serious with one. He’s a fuckboy.”
Elowen stared at her friend, indignant.
