“I personally guarantee no health homework,” Madame Fabre says. “And I have some influence with the social studies professor, so we’ll see that you get time in class to finish work in there.” She winks.
“Mrs. Fabre is a gal of many hats.” Sunny slips in the remark, smirking as she stuffs another bit of muffin into her cheek.
The teacher laughs. “And that’s Sunny’s not-so-subtle plea to borrow one of my hats for the outing this coming weekend.” She purses her mouth in thought. “I’m thinking my floppy fedora . . . with the daisy on the side.”
Sunny beams. “The one that just so happens to match my daisy tights?”
“Pure coincidence, right?”
“I’ll drop by your room on Saturday morning, before we head out.” With a nod of her head, Sunny tugs me toward the guy at the fruit bar, who’s now dishing up the apples and cherries I ordered.
Mom motions me on so she can stay and chat with Madame Fabre.
“So, what outing are you going on this Saturday?” I ask Sunny as we head to the fruit bar.
“Shhh. We’ll discuss that shortly. But first, you meet the man of Katarina’s dreams.”
I put the brakes on behind her, the carpet popping with static under my soles as she tries to drag me. “You mean the guy who—”
“Carted you down two flights of stairs? Yep. In the fine flesh.” Sunny plants me in front of the twinkling blue eyes that caught me watching earlier.
That smirk has returned to his face. Not exactly a snide expression, just perceptive, as if he knows more about me than he should. It’s the same way he looked at the ponytail girl. He has a surplus of self-confidence—suave, playful, and a little arrogant. The typical rich boy one would expect to meet at an elite academy like this one. His attractiveness makes him dangerous . . . someone I should avoid.
“Rune, this is Jackson Reynolds,” Sunny says. “Your knight in shining armor from yesterday.”
He places my fruit on the edge of the counter within reach. The scent of his spiced cologne lingers—taunting me with the memory of his heartbeat next to my jawline, teasing out the flutter of nausea I’ve been fighting.
“The name’s Jax,” he croons in a rich baritone as he tips his head to me. “And stop giving her hell, Sunny.”
“I won’t never give her hell. She’s my hero. Did you hear her sing?”
“Yeah, and so did you-know-who.” He gestures with his chin toward the other side of the counter. “So keep your voice down.”
I turn to see Katarina beside the chalkboard, waiting for a chance to order at the cash register where Headmistress Fabre is still talking with my mom. The snarl twisting Kat’s flawless features is intimidating, but it’s her blue eyes that bore into me. Her stare could melt diamonds . . . or mirrors, like the one behind her on the wall, a few feet from the easel.
I didn’t notice it earlier with the chalkboard in my way. From this angle, I can see movement on the other side—a filmy silhouette—similar to what I saw yesterday in the foyer. This time, two coppery gleams flash, like eyes blinking. A half-mask takes shape, white and ghastly. I yelp and clasp my hand over my mouth.
Kat narrows her eyes, obviously misreading my body language to mean I’m faking being scared of her looks. I shake my head, but she turns away when a girl with chic, cropped hair the color of Jackson’s, grabs her elbow and points to the chalkboard. When I look again at the mirror, the silhouette is gone.
Returning my attention to Sunny and Jax, I tell myself I imagined it. That there’s no one behind the mirror.
No one but the phantom. I saw the mask this time.
It’s not possible. Even if some poor disfigured soul had actually inhabited this opera house and inspired Leroux’s book, he wouldn’t still be alive today, over a hundred years later.
“—a little compassion that I’m stuck in the middle . . . that’s all I’m asking,” Jax says to Sunny, pulling me out of my dark meditations. He turns to the Asian boy behind him. “Li, I’m going on break.” The boy nods.
Coming around to our side of the counter, Jax unties his apron, revealing taut muscles beneath his long-sleeve polo shirt and gray dress pants. He must lift weights because RoseBlood doesn’t have a fitness program—other than dance and choreography classes.
I scold myself for noticing, and follow his gaze as it flicks again to the platinum-blond girl over by the register. I force myself not to look at the mirror.
“My sister hasn’t shut up about how unfair it is that Kat has to audition for first eliminations a second time.” Jax shrugs into his uniform jacket.
“Psssshhh.” Sunny rolls her eyes. “Roxie and Kat can hiss and holler all they want. You and me both know Audrey was born to play Renata. Her sister begged her not to visit in New Mexico last summer . . . to stay here and get tutoring, because she wants Audrey to nab that part. That’s a big deal. It ain’t fair that Kat always gets the leads just ’cause her great-great-grand-something was a member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Music.”