Part 9 (1/2)

”I know, but she's really pus.h.i.+ng it this time,” the brunette says.

”Maybe Lexie offed her,” Iris whispers dramatically behind her hand. ”I wouldn't put it past her.”

”Be nice,” Tobin says.

”I'm just making sure New Girl knows what she's getting herself into. Last year, this freshman was up for the part Lexie wanted, so she put ipecac in the girl's apple juice. The girl puked all over the stage right in the middle of her audition.”

”That's just a rumor. She probably had the flu or was nervous or something.”

”Well, whatever the cause, Lexie posted a video of it on the school's Facebook page and it got, like, five thousand hits before the admins took it down.”

”n.o.body ever proved it was Lexie that posted it,” Tobin says.

”Yeah, because she posted it under a dummy account. She's not stupid. And proof doesn't matter.

Everybody knows it. I'm telling you, Daphne. You don't want to cross her.”

”Last call for Pear Perkins,” rings out Mr. Morgan's perturbed voice. ”Somebody tell that diva she has fifteen seconds to get out here or I'm cancelling her audition.” Bridgette squeaks from the doorway, ”Where the heck is she?”

”That's it. I'm calling it,” Mr. Morgan says, his voice filled with annoyance. ”Next up. Miss Rain.

Miss Rain, are you here?” No answer comes from the auditorium.

”Miss Daphne Rain? Do we have another no-show?” ”Isn't that you?” Tobin asks.

”What?” I'd been distracted by the nervous little melody wafting off Bridgette.

”Daphne Rain, you have sixty seconds to appear on my stage or your audition is also cancelled,” shouts Mr. Morgan.

”Oh, that is me,” I say, a little dumbfounded. My audition isn't supposed to be for another ten minutes.

I haven't had time to finish my relaxation exercises. My throat is still dry. I need more water. I'm not quite ready.

”Fifty seconds!”

I must look panicked because Tobin takes my arm. ”Don't worry,” he says, and leads me down the hall several yards to another door. He swings it open. ”Backstage,” he says. ”Just go up those stairs and follow the curtains. Break a leg!” he says, and pushes me through the doorway-which he might have meant literally, because as the door swings shut, I am engulfed in utter darkness.

”Thirty seconds, Miss Rain!”

I stumble forward and hit the stairs. I find the handrail and pull myself up the steps. I grip my guitar tightly in one hand and stick the other out, feeling for the curtains. Something rustles past me and I hear that low, hissing sound from before. I spin around, looking for what-or who-is with me in the darkness. I can't see anything but blackness all around. My old fear of the dark had started during that hospital stay when I was thirteen. After that strange encounter with the man in my room, every time one of the nurses would shut off the lights, it would seem like someone was standing in the shadows.

Watching me. It was probably just the painkillers messing with my mind-the sensation had gone away once we went home and I could sleep in my own bed-but it had taken me months before I could sleep without the lights on. For some reason, that old fear comes rolling over me again. I take another step. Something brushes my arm, and I almost scream. Another half step and I realize I'm standing in one of the curtains.

”Fifteen seconds!”

I push at the curtain and see a sliver of light dance between its folds. I trail my hand along the fabric until I come to the opening. I think I hear someone let out a breath behind me. I look back, sure I'm being watched, and step out into the light of the stage.

”I'm here,” I say, holding my hand up to block the sudden brightness of the spotlight that is trained on center stage.

”Nice of you to decide to join us, Miss Rain,” the teacher says curtly.

”It's Miss Raines.”

”Noted,” he says, making a mark in his binder. ”You were almost too late.”

”Sorry. I was told my audition was at three thirty.”

He purses his lips for a moment. ”I expect my students to be prepared for anything.”

”Well, I am,” I say.

”Do you have sheet music for the pianist?”

I stifle a smile. CeCe had always thought that was the funniest word. ”I thought I'd play my own accompaniment.” I place my fingers on the right chords and prepare to start playing, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice the curtains at the side of the stage rustling. I stand still for a moment, trying to see if anything is really there. Maybe I hadn't been imagining things when I was backstage.

Maybe someone had been there.

Maybe the stranger from the grove had followed me. . . .

My muscles tense. I wonder if I should say something, but my voice is caught in my throat.

”Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Morgan asks, clearly still annoyed.

I look at him and then to the expectant faces of the students in the crowd. Some of them looked embarra.s.sed or nervous for me, and I can tell by the tone that t.i.tters off Lexie and the cl.u.s.ter of friends sitting with her that they're highly amused. I see Lexie pull her iPhone from her pocket and stealthily train it on me.

Do they think I'm going to throw up on the stage like that freshman girl? Or do I look as mentally disturbed as I feel at the moment?

”If you don't want to be in my music program, Miss Rain, then I suggest you get off my stage,” Mr.

Morgan says.

For half a second, I find myself wondering if I do want to be in his music program.

If I want to be here at all. I could just walk right off this stage, bike back to Joe's mansion, and demand that he fly me back to Ellis.

But Joe still has that court order. He'd probably never send me back now that I am here. Or he'd get lawyers involved and my mom would end up going bankrupt trying to fight him. If I walk away now, then the sacrifice of leaving my mom so I can follow my dreams would end being for nothing.

”No. I came here to sing.” I force all the fear and nerves out of my body with a deep breath and strum out the beginning of the song. Sometimes, when I play-when I'm really into it-I can feel the notes dancing around me. That's the way I play today. Like my entire world is wrapped up in this song- because this is the moment I've been waiting for. The moment I can actively start making my dreams come true.

When my voice joins in with the guitar, I can feel the energy in the crowd s.h.i.+ft. Their surprise vibrates about the room. Along with it are notes of happiness and relief, but I can also pick out the darker tones of jealousy from a certain pocket of girls in the crowd. I take all of it in. Absorbing the vibrations in the room and channeling them into my voice and into my hands. Letting it all come out in my music.

In Ellis, my music obsession made me different.

Here, I can use it to make me stand out.