Chapter 37 Orion
Orion
Sterling and his lawyer cleared out, and a short silence fell, heavy and full. The kind of silence that would have crushed me before.
“Orion,” my father began. “That outburst was completely uncalled for. Cheating? Why would you say that? You’ve brought embarrassment—”
“Good,” I said. “I didn’t win. I cheated. We cheated.”
My father blustered. “It wasn’t cheating; it was accommodation. You have…a disability.”
I stared at him, and the last piece of numbness blew away. The last anchor holding it all down lifted, and the words came pouring out.
“Dyslexia,” I said. “I have dyslexia. You can’t even say the word. And I wasn’t diagnosed with dyslexia when you gave me that envelope, remember? I was still struggling under a misdiagnosis that was ten years old.”
“Well, that has been rectified—”
“Nothing has been rectified. I need to say something, and you both need to listen.”
I stood up to pace, to feed off the energy surging through me.
“Ten years,” I said. “I spent ten years thinking I was broken. Thinking I was defective. That asking for help was shameful. But I am not broken. Music is how I exist in this world. I speak it fluently, and all this time, I’ve been fighting it and burying it and pushing it down because we don’t talk about anything! ”
My mother flinched. My father only stared at me, his eyes hard.
“But I’m done,” I said. “I lost my friend. I may have lost Harper too. She was put through a nightmare—and for what? I shouldn’t have thrown that party.
I shouldn’t have rowed in that bloody race.
I should’ve been at the piano, auditioning for Juilliard.
Fighting for a visa. Fighting to stay here. With her.”
“So it’s about this girl,” my father said, frowning. “She’s quite poor, isn’t she?”
“In some ways,” I said. “But rich in all the ways that count. And she doesn’t want my money.”
Shame bit me, thinking of all the times I’d offered Harper money in lieu of something she really wanted—for me to stick around. To be there for her. To be honest with myself. To be honest about my music. Everything Ezra had been telling me since the beginning.
“I love her. That’s what it’s about. I love her and I love to play.”
My parents exchanged uncomfortable glances. I wanted to scream. To force words out of them. Anything.
“If you want to cut me off, then do it,” I said.
“I hope you don’t, because I love you. But I can’t be in the family business, Father.
You built something from the ground up. From nothing.
Now I have to start from nothing. It’s going to be terrifying.
I might embarrass myself. But at least it’ll be honest. And I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.
I’ve disappointed myself, and I let down the one person who didn’t deserve it.
I may have lost her. But I’m going to try to fix everything that I broke and hope it’s not too late. ”
They exchanged a glance. A nod. A silent understanding.
“You’re a grown man. You have to do what you feel you have to do,” my father said gruffly.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? After ten years? A decade—”
“It’s too difficult to talk to you like this,” Mum said. “Maybe when we’ve all cooled down, we can speak later.”
My father nodded. “I think we’re done here.”
I stared in disbelief as they rose from their chairs. My mother’s eyes were glassy, her hand locked in his as they walked out. The door clicked shut behind them, and my heart cracked in two.
The safety net was gone. There was nothing under my feet now but air because I was no longer down in the depths.
I was free.
***
I went to the STEM auditorium. Every seat was taken, so I stood in the back instead of one of the chairs onstage with the other hopefuls—Harper among them. Whispers followed her name about “false accusations,” and I saw nods at Langford’s empty chair at the judges’ area.
My hands curled into fists. I wanted to shut them all up myself. But Harper was strong and brave. The bravest person I’d ever met. She didn’t need me fighting her battles for her. Only at her side, like she’d been at mine.
Please let it not be too late.
The press snapped pictures of the students, the dignitaries, and the judges—Dr. Hargrave, Dr. Chen, and Dr. Sterling sitting in for Langford. The speeches rolled on about how extraordinary the Novus Prize was. All I could think about was the price Harper had paid for this show to keep going.
Finally, after a video presentation of each of the experiments (except mine; bloody fast editing, that), the awards were announced. Fifth. Fourth. Third. Second. Dr. Sterling lifted a glass flame trophy with a gold leaf at its heart.
“First prize, for her portable and sustainable water-purification system…Harper Bennett!”
My girl rose, head high, to scattered applause. Dr. Sterling looked relieved as he handed the trophy to her.
“Congratulations, Miss Bennett,” he said into the mic.
“Thank you for this award, Dr. Sterling,” Harper said, and then she handed it back. “But I can’t accept this.”
The auditorium broke into murmured talk.
“Every time I look at it, I’ll be reminded of how I was assaulted by one of the judges, Ian Langford.”
Talk surged louder now. Dr. Sterling went pale. My heart swelled with pride.
That’s my girl. My warrior.
“The only reason I’m standing here is because a good person told the truth and was disqualified,” Harper said.
“He did what he did because of pressure. Pressure from parents. From the school. From the administration. One of the best people we know is dead because that pressure crushed him under its relentless fist.”
Her voice faltered. She kept going.
“I don’t actually know if I won this award,” she said.
“I’ll wait for the results of the inquest into my assault.
And that inquest is only going to happen because Ezra Wolfe believed in me.
” She looked out at the crowd. “He believed in me when a lot of others here didn’t and still don’t.
But I’m not alone. Another of Langford’s victims is coming forward. ”
Gasps rippled, and the talk grew loud.
“Unlike me, she’s not a Bender,” Harper said.
“She’s given me permission to tell you that.
Because it’s not about money. It never was.
It’s about fairness. And now it’s about justice.
If you’ve been harmed by Ian Langford and don’t feel safe coming forward, I understand.
Because power protects its own. But the other victim and I will make sure he never touches another girl again. Thank you.”
Harper resumed her seat on the stage and folded her hands in her lap.
Silence.
Then a single clap.
Another.
They rose to their feet in a standing ovation. The press surged forward. Camera flashes lit the air like lightning. Harper didn’t flinch.
“Goddamn,” I whispered, clapping until my hands ached.
Someone stepped beside me. “Don’t hurt those precious instruments,” Ezra Wolfe said. “You’ve got a performance tomorrow.”
I smiled, my throat thick. “Yes, I do.”