what tell I have, whether it’s an almost imperceptible tightening of my mouth, a clenching of my jaw, or a twitching of my eye. Either way, her smile widens. “You have mommy issues.”
“Fuck off, Felicia.” Am I hissing? That definitely sounded like a hiss. I feel sort of like a feral cat when a pesky human attempts to lure it home with promises of food and shelter. I’ll come to you if I want to be pet, but for the most part, I want everyone to stay the fuck away from me.
“I understand, you know,” she states, smoothing her hands down her pencil-straight skirt. It stops just below the knees, revealing a hint of bronze skin. “My parents are major dick bags, too.”
“Oh?” I turn back towards the music, staring intently at the squiggly lines and begging them to turn into a language I recognize. One I understand. Why is this happening to me? Music has always been my escape, my chance at freedom. I’ll be furious if the Devils took that from me with their confusing kisses and sweet words that leave me feeling disoriented and frustrated. I haven’t seen any of them since yesterday morning, when Karsyn dropped me off. Elias didn’t follow me to school, as he usually does.
Should I look for them?
Are they looking for me?
Is Elias still pissed? Will he tell somebody?
Will Karsyn?
Will Lucas?
I don’t like all of these unknown variables. It makes the equation impossible to compute.
“…join the family business,” Felicia is saying now, and I feel a stab of guilt that I haven’t been paying any attention to her. Is she trying to have a heart to heart moment with me? After she just insulted me? I don’t know whether to be amused or annoyed or a combination of the two. If there’s one thing I learned from this class, it’s that Felicia is volatile and crass.
But she’s a damn good musician.
“They don’t understand that I have no intentions of that,” she continues. “I don’t want to join the damn family business.”
“Sucks,” I agree, and she nods, her chin looking even sharper in the golden sunlight drifting through the opened blinds.
“Peony!” We both turn towards Mr. Tucker at the same time, and Felicia’s cordial smile freezes on her face before disappearing completely, replaced by a scowl.
“Teacher’s pet,” she hisses, stomping back towards her seat. I roll my eyes at her dramatics before walking towards the front of the classroom.
“Yes?” I ask him when I’m closer. Instead of answering, he simply beckons me to join him in his office—nothing but a hole in the wall behind the conductor’s stand. I wait hesitantly in the doorway as he grabs something from the highest shelf. Easily recognizing the sleek black case, I hold my breath as he pries it open. Nestled in red velvet is the most gorgeous violin I have ever seen. I can’t tell what type of wood it’s constructed out of, but it appears more red than brown in the artificial light. It’s polished so meticulously, I can see my reflection in it. It’s obviously new and very, very expensive.
“The new violin you ordered just came in,” Mr. Tucker explains, closing the case once more and handing it to me. I hold it reverently, almost fearfully, in my hands, as if the slightest breeze will take it away from me.
But then I come back to my senses with the force of a fifty-car train barreling into me.
“I didn’t order a violin,” I protest vehemently, attempting to hand it back. He holds up both hands in a placating manner and takes a step away.
“It’s not mine or the school’s, darling. It arrived this morning. The delivery man said it has already been paid for and that it belongs to a Peony Simone. And since you’re the only Peony Simone in this school…” He trails off with a grin, patting me good-naturedly on the shoulder. “It seems as if you have a guardian angel.”
Or a stalker.
The rest of class passes in a daze. It’s even harder to focus on the music than it was before. I don’t dare touch the new instrument. Who bought it for me? And why? Is it a bribe? An “I owe you” type of deal?
When I step out of class a few minutes later, reluctantly carting around my gorgeous violin, I see a familiar figure leaning against the far lockers, watching me. A girl stands at his side, attempting to garner his attention, but he doesn’t spare her a glance