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"Has that happened to you?"
He smiled at me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Yes." he said. "and now, I can watch you go for it."
"Like Uncle Simon watches his flowers emerge from the seeds he planted?-
"Yes."
"And like Grandad watched you and Uncle Peter?"
"Something like that," Daddy said, but his arm lost its tightness and his eyes shifted away. It was as if he was suddenly searching the shadows for signs of one of Grandad's demons.
"I better get to bed," he told me. "We've got work to do tomorrow."
He left me on the porch, looking into the darkness and then up at Uncle Simon's room. The light went out there, too. and I suddenly felt a chill. I don't know where it came from. There was barely a breeze and the night was warm.
It came from inside me, I concluded.
It came from the sense of some terrible secret still looming above me, masked, disguised, hidden behind the eyes of those who loved me and those who knew and were stirred by the same wintry feeling creeping in and over all our smiles and all our laughter, and even into our dreams.
The following week. Chandler and I officially became an item at our school. We were together everywhere we could be together. The joy we were taking in each other's company quickly became apparent, and soon I detected the looks of envy in the eyes of girls who were still searching for someone. I also noticed that Chandler was far less defensive with and suspicious of other students. The relaxation that was evident in his face took form in the way he dressed as well. He started coming to school in far less formal clothing: his hair wasn't as plastered and stiff, and he was joking and laughing with other students more often than before.
"We took a vote," Susie Weaver told me after lunch on Friday, "and decided you've been a good influence on Chandler Maxwell. He's almost a human being now."
"Thank you so much for your compliments," I said with a cold smile. "It is a coincidence."
"What? Why?"
"Chandler and I were wondering when you were going to become a human being," I replied, and left her with her mouth open wide enough to attract a whole hive of bees.
That afternoon Chandler asked me to go to a movie with him. He thought we should go have something to eat first, too, but said it wouldn't be any fancy restaurant.
"Let's just have a pizza or something," he suggested. "'To celebrate our continued musical success."
We had pleased Mr. Wengrow at our duet lessons on Wednesday night. Chandler had come to the house to pick me up and take me there. I saw the look of both pleasure and surprise in Mr. Wengrow's face.
All he said about it was. "I'm happy you're both getting along so well. It shows in your work."
We exchanged conspiratorial smiles and worked with new enthusiasm,
"I know that Chandler is all set as far as his continuing education goes," Mr. Wenrow said at the end of our session. while I was putting my violin in its case, "but you're still not decided, is that correct?"
"No," I said. "My parents and I talked about my attending the community college and living at home."
"There's no music program there that will add to your ability and talent in any significant way," he said quickly. "I don't mean to interfere. but I think you've got what it takes to get into a prestigious school for the performing arts. I'll speak with your parents, of course, but I wanted to talk to you about it first."
I looked at Chandler, who shrugged and smiled. "What school? Where?"
"I have a good friend who is actually the accountant for a theatrical agent. I would like to contact him to see if he would do me a favor and get an audition arranged for you."
"Oh," I said. "Where?"
"New York City," Mr. Wengrow said.
"New York City!"
All I could think of was Grandad Forman's ravings about the twin cities of iniquity being Los Angeles and New York. He called them both cities built by Satan, and loved to point his finger at the television screen whenever some horrible crime or event was reported occurring in either of them.
"There!" he would cry. "See what I mean?"
