“So, did you talk to Walker yesterday?” she asked.
“Actually, we went out. He picked me up after school and we grabbed something to eat.”
“Wow,” Susan said. “That’s—that’s like really dating. Huh. I never would have thought you’d have a boyfriend and I’d be single.”
Keira sank down in her seat. “I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend. We’ve only been out a couple of times. We haven’t even kissed.”
The admission felt too personal once the words were out in the open air of the car.
“Really?” Susan eyed her suspiciously. “Is there something wrong with him?”
Keira swallowed. She imagined Walker’s arms around her, how it would feel to have him lean close, the smile fading from his lips. His arms would tighten around her enough so their bodies finally touched and the heat between them . . . Jesus. She shook herself.
“Not at all,” she said casually. “We just don’t know each other that well yet. Hey—we’re supposed to work on ‘Syrinx’ this afternoon. You still game?”
“No, but I need to.” Susan pulled into the school parking lot and Keira watched her best friend scan the cars to see if Tommy was already here. “Besides, isn’t that how you get through everything? Put your head down and focus on your music until the world gets its shit together?”
“Pretty much,” Keira admitted.
“Then I’m all for trying the Keira Method. Meet here after the last bell?”
“Yep.” Keira looked over at Susan. “You gonna make it through today?”
Susan shrugged. “Don’t have much choice.”
“Sucky, but true.” Keira grabbed her bag. “You ready?”
“You go ahead in. I’m gonna sit here for a second, I think.” Susan fiddled with the cap of her lip gloss and Keira could see her trying to hold herself together.
“I can wait,” Keira offered. “It’s not like I’m dying to get to English.”
Susan shook her head. “You get enough tardies on your own. I don’t want you picking up another one on my account. Really. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Text me if you need me.”
“I will.”
Keira walked into school with her phone clutched in her hand and her heart aching for Susan. What Tommy’d done to Susan wasn’t fair, and Keira didn’t have any way to make it right. She wondered if tracking Tommy down and kicking him in the shins would make things better.
Probably not, she decided, but it would still feel really, really good.
Chapter Seventeen
AFTER THE DRUDGERY OF school, it was a relief to be at the piano, with Susan as desperate to dive into practice as Keira was.
Susan headed to the fridge to get a soda and brought one back for Keira.
“Thanks,” she said, setting it on the floor next to the piano. “You got the music? We need to get you ready to knock your teacher dead with your amazingness.”
“Here.” Susan pulled it out of her bag and set it on the piano in front of Keira.
Keira scanned through it, her fingers fluttering against the edge of the keyboard in response to the notes slipping past her eyes.
“Okay,” Keira said. “I think I’ve got it.”
Susan stood next to her, the flute against her bottom lip, waiting.
Keira counted out a measure and then began to play.
They’d stumbled through two pages before Susan stopped midphrase. “I’m never going to get this!” she roared.
“You will. It’s a run-through,” she said.
“Nothing sounds right! Even your playing doesn’t sound right, but I know that can’t be true.”
The words startled Keira. She knew she’d hit a few wrong notes, and even the ones she’d played correctly had sounded limp and lifeless. She hadn’t realized that it was bad enough for Susan to have noticed.
“Neither of us are used to the piece yet, and we haven’t done a duet in a while. We should start again, from the beginning.”
Susan stared at her. “You’re telling me my ears aren’t broken?”
Keira shrugged, and turned back to her piano, overwhelmed with the desire to defend herself. “Everyone’s allowed to have an off day, right?”
“Except you. You don’t have off days.”
Keira spun around, ready to challenge Susan.
The air in the room shimmered, like the sort of heat mirage that cropped up over the blacktop on a scorching summer day. Except it was indoors. And it was March. Keira’s stomach roiled in time with the shimmering. She stretched out a hand to steady herself and her fingers found the piano’s keyboard. The clash of discordant, high-pitched keys made it sound like the instrument was shrieking.
“Keira?”
In a snap, the air in the room stilled.
Keira wanted to shake her head—to shake it off—but she was afraid if she did, she’d puke. “Sorry. I got . . . dizzy or something for a second. I probably turned around too fast. I’m fine.”