I follow Mom and our new lawyer down the path to the school gates, my face shadowed by a baseball cap and sunglasses. I have to admit, as terrified as I am of the outside world right now, it does feel good to get out of my claustrophobic dorm room. But as we get closer to the gates, Mr. Sanford suddenly stops, wincing at something up ahead. I follow his gaze to a throng of spectators outside the campus gates.
There must be fifty or more people standing there, their heads peeking through the iron railings, their cameras snap snap snapping. I must have turned numb, because it takes me a full moment to remember that the spectators and cameramen are all here because of what happened to Chace. And because of me. I turn away as fast as I can, before any of those people can realize they’ve found me.
“Scratch my earlier plan,” Mr. Sanford says. “I’ll pick up some breakfast for us at Starbucks and bring it back here. We’ll just have to find a somewhat private place to talk.”
“The theater is almost always empty at this hour,” I tell him. “We can meet you there.”
I regret my idea as soon as Mom and I push through the doors into Joyce Hall. What was I thinking, bringing this trauma into my favorite place? This is the room where I experienced some of my happiest, proudest moments; this is the stage where I first played for Chace. And now it’s tarnished, just like when Detective Kimble and Officer Ladge infected my room.
“I can’t,” I tell Mom, shaking my head violently. “I can’t do this here. Let’s just talk in the lobby or something. I don’t care who sees us.”
Mom knows better than to argue with me. She brushes her hand against my cheek.
“Sweetie, what was the song that made you want to be a musician?”
I give her a funny look.
“You know my answer by heart. What does that have to do with anything, anyway?”
“It has to do with reminding yourself of who you are whenever life threatens to push you down,” Mom says intently. “You’re still Nicole Morgan, the most amazing, talented, beautiful person I know.”
Tears well up in my eyes.
“Can I possibly still be her, after everything that’s happened?”
Mom takes my hand with a nod.
“Tell me the song. What was it again?”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, remembering what I told Chace ages ago, at the Riveras’ New Year’s Eve party, when he asked me what I had just played.
“It’s Gershwin’s ‘Summertime.’ That’s the song that made me fall in love with music. The first time I heard it, I was so young, and it was so beautiful, I wanted to crawl inside the notes and live there among them.”
Mom smiles.
“See? You’re still you.”
I find Brianne waiting for me on the front steps of Academics Hall as I make my way to class, escorted by one of the dozen new security guards employed by Oyster Bay Prep. She rushes over to give me a hug, and I’m relieved to see that her shock and hurt over my secret seems to have worn off.
“How are you doing?” she asks, her eyes flickering between me and the other students filling the quad, all of them turning to stare at us as they pass.
“Um…” I swallow hard. “I guess I’m doing about how you’d expect.”
She squeezes my shoulder.
“Well, it’s super brave of you to go to class.”
“I don’t know about brave. I didn’t really have a choice,” I admit. “Mom said if I get any sort of truancy record, that would mess with my Juilliard scholarship.”
Brianne nods, lowering her gaze, and I immediately regret bringing up the J-word. She doesn’t have a verbal commitment from the president of the music program there, like I do. She has the upcoming audition hanging over her head instead.
“Come on.” I take her arm and we follow the rush of students inside the building, the silent giant of a security guard tailing us. People stop in their tracks and whisper as we walk past, but I manage to keep my eyes trained above their heads.
“Nicole, Brianne. How are you holding up?”
I turn, startled to hear a friendly voice in these halls. It’s Ryan, wearing a black ribbon tied to his shirt pocket. For Chace, I realize, my stomach twisting.
“I miss him.”
I didn’t expect to blurt it out, least of all with a security guard hovering over my shoulder. But it’s the truest thing I could have said.
“I do, too. It still doesn’t seem real.” Ryan falls into step with us. “I can’t stand to be in our room anymore.”
I look at Ryan, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and I feel a pang in my chest.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. That has to be brutal.”
He nods, eyes on the ground.
“Did you hear about the—the weapon?”
“What?” I stop in my tracks. Brianne shoots me an alarmed glance.
Ryan lets out a slow exhale.
“So you didn’t know. I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s just been all over the news for the past couple hours.”
“I’ve been avoiding the news.” I swallow hard. “What…what was it?”