***
The next day, I skipped all my classes. I felt like shit. Depressed, tired. A full-body hangover. I’d forgotten about that little bonus to the terrible reaction I had to the meds.
I managed to drag myself out of bed to shower and dress. After the last bell, I made my way to the Arts Wing of the Academy. When I arrived, my pulse was kicking like a jackrabbit, though now I couldn’t tell if it was left over from last night or just plain nerves.
I knocked on Professor Wolfe’s office door.
No answer.
The syllabus had said I was within his office hours. Maybe I’d gotten it wrong. I nearly turned to leave, but Harper’s face floated before my vision. Her faith in me had me knocking again.
A rustling came from inside the office. “Coming, coming.”
The door flew open and I was face-to-face with Ezra Wolfe’s bleary eyes. His hair was rumpled, his clothes looked slept in. The scent of an unidentified liquor wafted over me, and cigarette smoke hung in the air.
“Orion.” If he was embarrassed or worried I’d rat him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he wore an expectant expression. “You look as bad as I feel. What do you want?”
“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” I said, the words sounding rusty, as if I’d never spoken English before. “To work with you on apiece for the concert?”
He crossed his arms. “That was weeks ago. Who says that offer still stands?”
Disappointment whacked me in the chest. I hadn’t known how badly I’d wanted this until now. When it was too late.
“Oh. Sorry to have bothered you.”
I was five steps away when he drawled, “Do you always give up so easily?”
I turned.
He arched a brow. “Well?”
This was it. A dividing line between one version of my life and another. Once I stepped over it, I had no idea what would happen. No safety net. Wolfe was going to tear me open with a bloody piano. And I wasn’t going to be able to hide my struggles from him, either. No chance.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
Wolfe must’ve read my face because a slow grin spread over his.
“It’s about time.”
Chapter 16Harper
Mom held up her phone. “Say cheese.”
“Cheese!” Dash said, and pointed his neon pistols at her.
I stood beside him, not quite as enthusiastic.
“Come on, Harper,” Mom said. “One smile.”
She was on her best behavior, fulfilling her promise to take Dash trick-or-treating, and had been home early the rest of the week. Sober too, as far as I could tell.
I managed a half smile. As soon as the photo was taken, I knelt beside Dash.
“You remember what I told you?”
His head bobbed under his cowboy hat. “If I see any Smarties, grab ’em.”
“My hero.”
