Chapter 9 Harper
Harper
Sunday morning, Mom was all smiles, and Dash, being a kid, had forgiven and forgotten he’d been abandoned the night before. Still, too many nights like that would dim the light in his eyes. If that happened, I would never forgive my mother. No do-overs.
I remained distant, holed up in my room doing homework. It was nearly three when I realized I hadn’t checked my email from Professor Wolfe to see what he expected of me for Monday.
from: ProfWolfe
to:
re: Monday Assignment
Für Elise, Beethoven
That was all. No greeting, no sign-off, nothing.
Charming.
My first instinct was to be pissed at being assigned one of the most cliché pieces in all of classical music, but I smelled a trap.
Everyone and their mother knew the opening section of Für Elise, but few knew it took a turn for the difficult shortly after.
Wolfe was trying to catch me being lazy or complacent—nail the first part, suck at the rest.
“Not on my watch, asshole,” I muttered.
God, CHA was getting to me if I was hostile over Beethoven.
I printed out the sheet music, packed up my stuff, and went downstairs. Dash and Mom were curled up on the couch watching Bluey.
“I’m going to the Academy to practice piano.” I shouldered my bag and grabbed my keys from the hook on the door. “You guys have plans?”
Translation: Are you moving from that couch?
Mom shot me a dry look. “Nope, we’re staying right here. You don’t have to hover.”
I clenched my teeth, then flashed Dash a smile. “See you, buddy.”
“Bye-bye, Harper,” he called.
“Bye, Harper,” Mom said, her face now apologetic.
I turned away. “Be back in time for dinner.”
***
It was only the first week of school, and yet Castle Hill Academy, on a Sunday, was active. The soccer field was busy, the track had runners. Most of the study rooms were buzzing, and when I passed by the massive gym, students were training and working out.
In the Arts Wing, I worried I wouldn’t find an open piano room but got lucky. For two hours, I perfected my Für Elise, until the transitions were smooth.
Smooth, until I have Wolfe breathing down my neck while I play.
Heading out, I noticed all the practice rooms were still occupied with students from my class, striving to impress the Ezra Wolfe.
Or just plain scared of him.
One desperate student had even resorted to using our actual classroom. I froze as I passed by, listening. Coming through—no, floating through the closed door—was Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. One of the saddest yet most beautiful pieces ever composed.
I knew without knowing. I didn’t even have to look.
Orion.
I quietly pushed the door open. Orion was at the piano. His sheet music was in front of him, covered in strange tabs, like small Post-it notes, but his eyes were closed. His hands glided over the keys, and music was pouring out.
Wolfe called this emptiness?
Orion played it flawlessly, beautifully. The music moved from slow, melodic, and melancholy, into the faster desperation of a composer in agony—quiet moments of despair, then earthquakes of heartbreak. But it was as if Orion were a tool for the music, but not part of it.
Wrong. You’re letting Wolfe get to you. He plays like a miracle.
Orion was a musical genius. No doubt about it. If he abandoned the piano to follow in his family’s footsteps, it would be a crime against humanity. The music world would lose a tremendous gift and not even know it, because he carried his talent around in his back pocket like an afterthought.
Orion abruptly stopped playing. He picked up his phone and hit a button. The next movement in the Nocturne played, and he listened, eyes closed. Then he stopped the track, set the phone down, and played the same section. An exact replica, as if taking dictation.
I slipped away, trying to understand what I had just seen and heard.
It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
That was true. I’d spent the weekend studying and fuming at my mother’s negligence, but also strengthening my resolve that Orion and I would be working together as lab partners and possibly against each other for the Novus Science project.
That’s all. There was no earthly reason to do—or be—anything else.
But the beauty in his playing and the weight of his jacket at the bonfire—like borrowed armor—made me wonder if I’d walked away too fast. If I’d let old hurt pull up the drawbridge and keep Orion out.
I’d spent my life bracing for calamity, afraid even a crack of something good could break me.
As I left the Academy, one word followed me on the last notes of his music.
Maybe.
***
Monday morning, as talk about Jack Wallace filled the hallways, I used the restroom before chemistry. I stepped out of the stall to wash my hands, and suddenly Aria Kingston and Elowen Blake were behind me. My heart started to pound.
“Harper, right?” Aria said. Her eyes were like black glass. “You’re new here.”
“Yeah,” I said, rinsing my hands and reaching for the paper towel dispenser.
“Let me.” Elowen was faster, pulling two sheets and handing them to me with a fake smile.
“Thanks.”
“Where were you before?” Aria asked.
“Pennsylvania,” I said. “Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh,” Aria said with a laugh. “That totally makes sense.”
Elowen wasn’t laughing. “I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night. About how I found you with Orion, all cozy on a log, wearing his jacket, no less.”
Aria pulled out a tube of lip gloss and began applying it in the mirror.
“Here’s the thing, Harper from Pittsburgh.
I’ll explain this to you because you’re new and obviously don’t know the deal.
” She smacked her lips together with a pop and turned to me.
“Orion is up here.” She reached her hand overhead, palm facing down.
“He’s Big Five. One of the kings of the school. ”
“Royalty,” Elowen put in.
“And El and I, we’re, like, here.” Aria moved her hand slightly lower. “We might not be royalty but we’re… How to put it?”
“Nobility.”
“Exactly. And you…” Aria put her hand parallel to the ground at knee level. “You’re down here.”
I clenched my jaw, feeling my cheeks burn and hating it.
“What we’re saying,” Elowen said, “is that kings of the school do not associate so far down the ladder. It just doesn’t happen.”
“But it’s okay!” Aria said, oozing false friendliness. “You didn’t know. Which is why you were hanging out with Orion. He’s a sweetheart and will often take pity on Benders, but it’s not like he’d ever get serious with one. He’s a fuckboy.”
Elowen stared at her friend, indignant.
Aria shrugged. “Well? He is. Strictly a player. He doesn’t get serious with anyone but definitely not with Benders.” She looked to me. “You have to know that, right?”
Of course I know. Because this is real life. No maybes in sight.
Both girls stared at me with pitying, cringey smiles, actually waiting for me to answer. A wave of homesickness came over me. In Pittsburgh, I hadn’t been the most popular girl in school, but I’d been comfortable. Confident. Here, I was out of my element. Naked and raw.
I balled up the paper towels and threw them into the wastebasket, feigning the courage I used to have. “I have a question. Because I’m new here and all, maybe you guys could help me out.”
Aria’s eyes flared with anger, catching on immediately. Her smile widened until it was all teeth. “Of course.”
“Do you honestly believe all the royalty and nobility bullshit? Or do you have to work at convincing yourself of your own superiority?” I cocked my head. “Nah, never mind. If I were as ugly as you, I’d do my best to pretend I was better than everyone else too.”
My heart thudded against my chest, sure I was about to get my ass kicked, hair pulled, face scratched. The two girls glanced at each other, and then burst out laughing.
“Oh my God, you are so cute,” Aria said, though not one shred of humor touched her eyes. “Are you, like, some kind of philosopher or something?”
“That was really deep,” Elowen said, nodding with mock thoughtfulness. “I’m going to go home and think about what you said for a long time.”
Aria moved closer, eyes boring into mine.
I could smell the peach flavor of her lip gloss.
“Let me be plain. Stay the fuck away from Orion or we’ll make your life at CHA a living hell.
” Her fake smile returned. “And honestly, it’s not so much a warning but a favor.
You don’t want to embarrass yourself more than you already have, do you? ”
My cheeks burned as Aria gave me one last appraising glance, taking in my overalls with a patchwork design.
“Cute outfit. Kinda like the Bratz doll I had when I was a kid. The one that liked thrifting, which was the only one I threw in the trash.”
Then they turned and walked out, chatting about something else entirely, as if that whole entire conversation had never happened. As if I no longer existed.
I gripped the edge of the sink and took several deep breaths, my heart still pounding.
I told myself it didn’t matter. They were superficial Richies who cared about all the wrong things.
Their bullshit didn’t bother me. Still, it took me ten minutes to feel calm enough to leave the bathroom, which had never happened to me before.
Even when my mother was drinking and some drunk asshole boyfriend was staggering around our apartment, I’d been in control.
If you can handle that, you can handle some rich-bitch bullying. You can handle all of this.
This.
Being uprooted, Dash being left alone, my mother’s slap, the bullying, the pressure.
And Orion…