Page 6 of Petrify

“Whatever you want.”

I know he decides he likes me when, as his small fingers spread across the keys, producing a popular etude, he glances at me, anxious for my approval, his tongue sticking out in concentration, looking up at me every few seconds.

And my heart breaks a little.

A master’s brutal hand never dissuades the loyalty of an eager and well-trained dog.

I would know.

Lunch is in the kitchens, and Ms. Byrne arrives at the practice room to escort me at the same time Ms. Wilder comes to take Henri away.

Ms. Byrne gives me a brief tour of the staff wing, pointing to any room I might need to find.

The staff has their own dining room, and around the table are a dozen young men and women. All of whom turn to me the moment I pass the threshold.

“Everyone, this is Miss Mallary Doyle, Henri’s new piano tutor.”

Their conversations interrupted, the room goes silent. A dozen pairs of eyes, all staring, dissecting, making assumptions.

Don’t be too intriguing, or you’ll get unwanted attention. Don’t be too boring that they shrug you off. Be pleasant, be pretty, and most of all, become untouchable. Become important, and you can do anything.

Or so someone told me in college.

One of the young women reaches over and pushes the seat next to her away from the table. “You can sit here,” she says, beaming at me from across the room.

There’s suddenly a chorus of greetings, like time had stopped and resumed again. I’m ushered into the seat and a bowl of some hearty soup is placed in front of me, a delicious-smelling steam wafting up.

“So you’re the new babysitter,” one of the guys says with a grin. Dark brown hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes.

The girl next to me elbows him. “Nathan.”

“What? It’s sort of true.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to me. “Don’t give any of these guys the time of day, they’re all idiots.”

“Noted.” I force a soft laugh. I feel like I’m intruding.

“I’m Em, by the way,” she says. Her blond hair is in a tight ponytail. She must be around my age; most of the group around us seems to be in their mid-twenties. “I’m mainly helping in the kitchen, but you’ll see me around. Nathan is one of our handymen.”

He gives me a suggestive look.

Em sees it and scoffs, then points at each person at the table, too quick for me to remember every single name. “Reece, Daria, Julia...” And so on.

It’s Julia, I realize, that brought my dinner last night. She doesn’t avoid my gaze this time, but there’s a line between her brows, something that resembles concern—or maybe suspicion—though for what, I don’t know.

Maybe I reallyamintruding.

Only five minutes into lunch and already I’m getting a headache.

“Thank you for letting me join you.”

“Lettingyou?” Em laughs. “You’re welcome to hang with us whenever you’re free.”

“There’s always at least one of us wandering around down here,” Julia says with a small smile. “Our schedules are all pretty staggered.”

“Do you know when you’ll be done for the day?” Em asks, stirring the dregs of her stew.

“Once Henri goes for dinner, I think.”