AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t mind taking the bus.”
“I want to drive you.”
He grins. “Excellent. I kind of want you to drive me,” he says, and we spend the drive quoting the movie and brainstorming sequels.
“Why haven’t we done this before?” he asks when I put the car in park in his driveway. His house has an herb garden in the front yard and a chicken coop in the back.
“Hung out? We have.”
“Not alone. We obviously get along, but I think you avoid me.”
“I don’t avoid you,” I insist.
“You do,” he says, but he doesn’t sound offended. “When you texted me a few weeks ago, I don’t know if it was because you were drunk with Lindsay or what, but I’m glad you did.”
“I—I am too,” I manage, my tongue feeling three sizes too large for my mouth.
“Your blood vessels are dilating again.” He grins, showing off that space between his front teeth. “Laila tov, Tov,” he says, wishing me good night in Hebrew before getting out of the car and tapping the hood a couple times. I’m beginning to love my name.
I let out a deep breath, collecting myself before putting the car in reverse. Zack’s presence is big and overwhelming, and I can’t get enough of it. But I have only a few moments before guilt sours my joy.
Every good thing that happens to me from now until the end of my life will be tainted by Adina. It’s a selfish thought, but that doesn’t make it any less true. For years I thought I’d never get to experience any of what I felt tonight, but the reality is that I have so many chances to date. So many possibilities.
Maybe that’s what I should be feeling guilty about.
Seventeen
Adina
I SHOULD FEEL GUILTY ABOUT eavesdropping at showcase rehearsal, but I don’t. In fact, I wish everyone would whisper so I wouldn’t have to hear their conversations.
“You’re totally getting into Juilliard,” says one girl to another as she tunes her violin. “Is it okay if I hate you a little?”
“Shut up. I doubt I’ll even get an audition.”
“You will. I’ll be lucky if I get into Cornish.”
Hattie Woo plays violin in the youth symphony, and Meena Liebeskind plays viola. We traded hellos when I came in, but we are not tied together by the strings we decided long ago to devote our lives to. Conservatory spots are limited, and we must fight for them.
“Have you gotten any auditions yet, Adina?” Meena asks me.
They are so conceited, I decide to lie. “Yes.”
Hattie shakes her head, her long black braid whipping back and forth. “She’s lying. None of the schools have started auditions yet.”
I get to my feet, unintentionally aiming my bow at her. “Are you sure about that?” I challenge, and Hattie shrinks back, questioning whether she believes me.
The greenroom is nothing special, a few couches and chairs, a long mirror smudged with makeup, a wall of photos of past conductors and principal musicians. It’s not at all like the grand symphony itself, with its chandeliers and deep red seats and balconies stacked toward the sky.
Later tonight, Arjun is cooking me dinner, which makes what is happening between us feel more real. Arjun and rehearsal are the only things keeping my mind from straying back to where it wandered a few nights ago. Because of Ima, I have been forced to think about death more than most people my age, but I’d never considered ending my life as a solution to anything. I’ve tried to dismiss the terrifying spark of an idea: I was tired. I was distraught after talking to Ima. I was depressed after watching those videos. I’ve shut it in a drawer and locked it away between folds of my brain, but it’s still there. I cannot unthink it.
“Adina Siegel?” a small man dressed all in black calls from the greenroom entrance. Boris Bialik, whom I auditioned for to earn this spot. I give him a weak smile and wave, the evil-eye bracelet winking at him from my wrist. “Pleasure to see you again.”
From hi
s clipped tone, it sounds as though seeing me again is more of a hassle than a pleasure. He is sour because I skipped rehearsal after my test results.
“Thank you,” I say, getting to my feet and making sure my posture is straight. “I’ve been looking forward to this show.”
