“When did this happen?”
“I don’t know when she left,” Mom says. “She called in sick the morning after you went to California and didn’t come in for any of her shifts this week. I figured she must have been feeling really poorly, so I went over to her apartment with some of my tummy tea this morning, and, well, she was just gone. Her landlord said she left a check to cover cleaning and a note saying that she quit her job and was leaving town.”
“Why?” I ask.
“No idea. She’s never seemed interested in leaving Ellis.”
“I told you,” I hear Indie’s staccato voice from somewhere in the background. “She must have taken that new job.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Some woman called the shop a few days ago,” Indie says, coming closer to the speakerphone. “She was asking all these employment verification questions. Like how long CeCe had worked here, where she’d worked before, and stuff. I don’t get why everyone is worked up about it. So she quit and took a new job in a town that actually has malls and stuff.”
Honestly, I can’t blame CeCe, considering I’d left Ellis for bigger and better things. It just surprises me that she hadn’t called to tell me her plans.
“We were hoping you’d heard more from her,” Jonathan says. “I can’t get over her not saying good-bye.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Mom says. “She always seemed so happy here. Right up until you …”
“Right up until I left,” I say, finishing the thought for her.
chapter thirty-one
HADEN
“He’s not even singing,” Tobin whispers to Daphne. They sit on the other side of the half circle of chairs in the music room. It’s amusing that he thinks I don’t know what he’s saying. I can’t actually hear their words over the singing, but I have spent the weekend mastering the art of lipreading. What isn’t amusing, however, is that Tobin has caught on to the fact that I’m merely moving my own lips along with the rest of the choir. Daphne looks up at me. I stare down at the songbook in my hands. Maybe I should try singing along, but I don’t know how to make my voice do what hers does, even if I want to. I feel her gaze leave me and I glance back at her.
“Maybe he’s just intimidated,” Daphne says. “It’s his first day in the program.”
My hands grow hot at the idea that she thinks I am afraid. I take a deep breath, tempering myself before I set the songbook on fire.
“Maybe he doesn’t know how to sing.”
“Then he shouldn’t be here at all.” The hard-lined look on Tobin’s face makes me wonder what exactly his problem is.
“Leave him alone,” Daphne whispers to him. “I think I was mistaken about him. He’s not the bad guy I thought he was.”
“I think he’s exactly who you thought he was.”
Mr. Morgan shoots them a cross look for talking while the others are singing. This song is supposed to be for the rock opera that Daphne’s father is writing—or so the teacher had explained at the beginning of the class period. It’s a chorus piece, which apparently means that Daphne is not part of the song. I find myself wishing she were. I want to know if her voice is as enchanting as I remember.
When the song ends, Mr. Morgan addresses the class. “Very good. Very good. But we still have a lot of work. I want this song ready to present to Mr. Vince for his approval by the end of the week. Now for another matter,” he says. “The mayor has asked me to find volunteers to provide entertainment for the Light-up Olympus Festival at the end of November. Does anyone want to sign up to do a musical number as part of a showcase the night of the festival?”
Tobin’s hand shoots up. “I will.”
“Thank you for your enthusiasm, Tobin. I’ll mark you down. Anyone else?”
Tobin’s hand goes up again.
“Yes?” Mr. Morgan asks.
“I think we should hear from the new student,” he says.
I look up at him. I keep my face expressionless, but I can only hope that the glint of panic doesn’t show in my eyes.
“I’d like to hear what he’s got. And where better than in front of the whole town? He must be something pretty special to have earned a spot in the department without auditioning.”
I sit up straighter. My gaze shifts to Mr. Morgan.
Mr. Morgan looks flustered. I wonder what kind of “requests” Simon made of him to get me in the program. “Well, only if he wants to. It’s completely voluntary.”
Tobin sets his glare on me. The rest of the class follows his lead. “What say you? Are you up for the challenge?”
If it is possible for someone’s expression to say, “You’re not fooling me. I know you don’t belong here. Try to prove me wrong,” all in one narrowed-eyed look, this Tobin guy is pulling it off. It isn’t a physical confrontation, but his challenge is just as serious as any one I’d accepted in the Underrealm.
And, oddly, feels just as dangerous.
Like not accepting will prove to him that I’m not who I claim to be.