I stand by myself in the music room, drinking in all the sounds of the new room and its state-of-the-art facilities, when I realize that I’m not sure where to sit. I’ve gone to the same school all my life, sat next to the same friends, and suddenly the idea of not being able to do that today really hits me. I’d known I’d be starting over; I just didn’t know what that would feel like until this moment. I finally settle into a seat in the middle row—not too eager, not too aloof—of the semicircle of chairs that face a small stage, and watch students trickle in through the doorway. Some I recognize from auditions, and others are strangers, but there’s only one topic of conversation that consumes them all—what happened to Pear Perkins in the grove.
Even the ladies in the main office had been gossiping about it. Which is how I’d heard that the Olympus Hills Medical Center had released a statement saying that Pear had a heart attack brought on by a pre-existing heart condition.
Part of me wants to be filled with relief, knowing it was a medical issue and not something I could have prevented by warning her not to go into the grove, but another part of me can’t shake the image of those gashes on her arm from my memory. Could tree branches have really caused those wounds? Or had my theory been correct about the stranger in the grove and nobody had bothered to investigate that angle?
I shake my head, thinking I am being overly paranoid. A doctor had determined that what happened to Pear was caused by a heart attack. Why would the medical center have any reason to put out a false report?
“That’s the thing,” I hear someone say, coming into the room. I recognize the voice as Lexie’s. “If Pear had a heart condition, I would have known about it. We’ve been friends for, like, ever. And besides, I know all my competitions’ weaknesses.”
The word frenemy comes to mind and I make a snerking sound. Lexie sends a glare in my direction before sitting in the front row with her posse of girls. I imagine they’re the infamous Sopranos I’ve been hearing about.
A few minutes before the bell is supposed to ring, Tobin appears in the doorway. The dark circles under his eyes make me wonder if his nights have been just as restless as mine since the grove. I lift my hand to give a little wave to him, but find myself holding my breath, wondering if he’ll respond. I had contemplated looking up his number and calling him to share the good news about my getting into the music department, but I hadn’t because I was unsure of where our budding friendship stood after Saturday evening. Finding a nearly dead girl together could serve to either cement our friendship status or crumble it before it even began. And with the crazy story I told the security guards and my omission of the truth—okay, lie—regarding my nonschollie status, I wouldn’t blame Tobin if he’s decided to have nothing to do with the wacko newbie. But before I can decide whether or not to wave, he sees me and waves first. I respond with a smile.
Tobin slips into the seat next to mine. “I was afraid we’d scared you out of town,” he says. “Glad to see you’re still here.”
“I don’t scare away that easily.”
“Neither do I.” Tobin hooks his backpack over the back of his seat, showing that he’s not planning on moving to a new spot before class. Today, he’s wearing a periwinkle fedora with a darker blue ribbon above the short brim. “Have you heard what they’re saying about Pear having a heart attack?”
I nod. “Kind of impossible not to.”
“I know what you mean.” Tobin’s warm tone drops lower, colder as he leans in close to me. “But do you believe it?” he asks. “I mean, I guess Pear could have had a heart condition and nobody knew it. This place is pretty competitive, so she may have been afraid to show any weakness. I couldn’t fathom why Pear would have gone to the grove until I overheard my mother talking on a conference call this morning. Pear’s housekeeper said that Pear had forgotten her sheet music for the auditions. They’re saying she must have rushed home to get it and cut through the grove as a shortcut. They’re saying the stress of it all was too much for her heart and she collapsed.… But the thing is, some of those gashes in her arm sure didn’t look like they were caused by tree branches.”
Relief washes over me, knowing that I am not the only one questioning the weirdness of the situation. It makes me feel a little bit less crazy. “I was thinking the same thing. But why would there be some sort of cover-up going on?”
Tobin looks at me, the strangest notes coming off him.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t think what happened to Pear is the only thing this place is covering up.”
This is the third time Tobin has indicated that something less than perfect is going on in this town. What exactly had I gotten myself mixed up in by agreeing to move here? I give Tobin a look, telling him to go on.
“You’re going to think I’m nuts—” Tobin stops abruptly. I look up and see that Lexie and Bridgette are standing right next to us, with a couple of Sopranos standing behind them. Bridgette holds a basket of giant muffins.
“I understand you’re the one who pulled Pear from the lake,” Lexie says to Tobin. She flicks her hand, and Bridgette sets the basket of muffins in his lap. “Consider this our thank-you.”