One Paris Summer (Blink) (29 page)

I laughed. “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

A smug grin spread across his face. “See, I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to make a big deal about me leaving. I’ll just slip out. If anyone asks where I am, tell them the cover story.”

“Fine. Now I’ve got to get back to the game or Dane’s going to steal all my ammo.”

Dad and Eva came home soon after that, and everyone went their separate ways after dinner. I caught Eric’s attention and motioned toward the door. He gave me a nod and turned his attention back to the game.

When I reached the corner across the street from the
pâtisserie,
I could see Mathieu sitting at a table, his hands folded on the table and a serious look on his face. He stood to greet me as soon as he noticed me crossing the street.

“Do you want anything?” he asked.

“No.” I’d been amazingly calm about this decision, but now that he was here with me, I was having second thoughts. The thought of breaking things off with him, of never seeing him again, was heart wrenching. Jenna was right—I really liked him. But we couldn’t let this undefined thing between us continue.

“Would you like to sit?” He motioned to the chair across from where he was sitting.

I didn’t want to sit—it seemed like it would just delay the inevitable—but it would be awkward to do this standing up. So I sat down and placed my hands on top of the table, waiting for him to take his seat.

“My mother was very impressed with your playing,” he said quietly, looking down at my hands. “Are you really planning to audition?”

“I think so, but I don’t know for sure yet,” I said softly. “I need to talk to my parents.”
Those
were going to be tricky conversations.

“
Maman
needs your email address to send you the information. You can text it to me and I’ll forward it to her.”

I nodded and cleared my throat. I decided to give this one last shot. “If I audition and get accepted, what does that mean for us?” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What happens with you and me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Will we still be like this? A secret?”

He closed his eyes. “Sophie.”

And there was my answer.

“We can’t do this anymore, Mathieu.
I
can’t do this anymore.”

He grabbed my hands and held them in his.

“I don’t like the secrets and the lies,” I said.

That got his attention. “What lies?”

I shook my head. “Mathieu, I’ve had to lie to cover this up. I even had to lie tonight to come here.” I looked into his eyes. “That’s not me.”

He was silent for several seconds. “Okay.”

For a split second I let myself think that meant he chose me. Then I pulled my hand from his. “Is this good-bye?”

He looked into my eyes. “I still want to be your friend, Sophie. We started out as friends.”

I wasn’t sure it was possible now that I was hearing him say it. “We tried that. Look where it got us.”

He looked out at the street, then back at me. “If you decide to audition, you will need to practice.”

“That doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“Sophie,” he pleaded. “This is
my
fault. You shouldn’t have to give up something you love because of me.”

“Mathieu . . .”

He shook his head, his mouth set. “No. I’ll fix it. Have Eric bring you on Wednesday and I’ll leave after I let you in.”

“Mathieu. I can’t let you do that.”

He gave me a sad smile. “It’s not your decision. It’s mine.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I understand why you can’t let Camille know.”

“I wish
I
understood.” He got up then, and turned around and walked away.

I managed to hold back my tears until he was a block away. Maybe this was for the best. If it hurt this much to lose him now, how much worse would it have been in August?

EVERYONE SLEPT IN
the next day. The banks were closed for Bastille Day, so Eva was home from work. So was Dad, and we all went out to lunch. While we waited for our food, Eva asked Camille, “Are you going to the Eiffel Tower for the fireworks?”’

Camille cast a glance at Dane. “Yes. We’re meeting my friends there.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Eva gave him a patient smile. “William, I told you, it’s perfectly safe. Camille and her friends have gone for the last two years.”

Apparently this had already been a topic of conversation. One I didn’t know anything about, but Eric didn’t look surprised.

Eva saw my confusion, then said, “There is a big celebration at the Eiffel Tower and the
Champ de Mars
. There is a huge crowd, but many young people go.”

My father frowned. “After Sophie got lost last week, I think she should stay home.”

“I wasn’t lost,” I countered. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go with Camille, but I wanted to make sure the option was open. “I just chose not to come home. Besides, I have a cell phone now. You can call me if you have a sudden panic attack that I might be dead.”

“Sophie!”

“William,” Eva said in a soft voice, “police and security are everywhere. It’s only a few blocks away. They will be perfectly safe.”

“Come on, Dad,” Eric said. “Let us go.”

He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded his head, a reluctant look in his eyes. “All right, but there will be rules.”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “Of course.”

My phone vibrated, and I dug it out of my pocket, surprised to see I had an email.

Eric shot me a scowl. He wasn’t happy that Mathieu wanted me to keep practicing at his apartment and was pushing me to ask Eva for another option. “It’s a trick, Sophie.” No amount of persuading had made him change his mind.

When I opened the message, I almost gasped.

“Sophie,” Dad admonished. “No phones at the table.”

“It’s an email, Dad. And it’s important. It’s about my audition.”

“What audition?”

With all the Mathieu drama, I hadn’t told him. Part of my hesitation was my fear over his reaction. What if he didn’t want me to live in Paris? I wasn’t sure I could handle another rejection from him. But I needed his permission. Now was the time to tell him. “I’ve been invited to audition for the
lycée
program at Mathieu’s mother’s
conservatoire
.”

“You what?”

Eva broke into a huge smile and clasped her hands together. “That’s wonderful news, Sophie!
Félicitations!
”

“How is
that
wonderful news,
Maman
?” Camille asked, her eyes wide.

“Sophie can live with us and go to school here.”

Dad looked like he’d swallowed a bug.

“Are you going to audition?” Eva asked.

“I think so, but I need to start preparing soon.” I kept my attention focused on Dad. His reaction wasn’t what I’d hoped for. “It’s an invitation to audition, nothing more. It’s highly competitive, so the likelihood of me being accepted is very small.”

The slim chances of my acceptance didn’t dampen Eva’s excitement, but Dad picked at his food the rest of the meal. At least he stopped hounding us about going to the
Champ de Mars
for the Bastille Day celebration. But my heart ached at his implied rejection.

I practiced on the keyboard when we got back to the apartment. I caught Dad watching me from the living room doorway, but neither of us said anything. I didn’t want to think about his reaction to the audition—or rather his
lack
of a reaction. Part of the reason I wanted to audition was so we could repair our relationship, but he seemed panicked by the idea of me staying.

Still, while both Dad and Eric had put a damper on the idea, I wasn’t ready to write it off yet. Maybe I would just audition and let the school decide. In the end, all this drama was probably for nothing. But I needed to tell Mom, and an email wasn’t going to cut it. I grabbed my laptop and went into the bathroom and sat on the floor, locking the door behind me so I could have some privacy for our video call.

I was halfway surprised when she answered since she was on her beach trip with her boyfriend.

“Sophie? Is everything okay?” I could see the ocean behind her. She looked worried.

“Everything’s fine. In fact, I got some wonderful news.” At least I hoped she saw it that way. “I’m sorry to call you on your trip, but it’s kind of important.”

She gave me a warm smile. “I can’t wait to hear.”

I took a breath. “The guy I told you about—Mathieu—his mother is an instructor at the
Conservatoire de Seine
.”

“
Really
? Have you asked her about the school?”

I was glad she remembered it was one of my dream schools, even if I’d never really given it serious consideration. “She heard me play yesterday and was impressed.”

“Of course she was.” Pride filled her words. “You’ve worked so hard this past year and it shows.”

I swallowed, scared to tell her the rest, but forged on anyway. “In fact, she’s in charge of a program for high school students and she invited me to audition.”

She was silent for several seconds. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I would think about it.”

“What do you want to do, Sophie?” Her voice sounded tiny—thousands of miles away.

I needed to be honest. “I’d like to do it.”

She was silent again.

“But the competition is stiff. I doubt I have a shot at getting in. I’d like to at least try and say I did.”

She still didn’t say anything, and guilt pricked my chest, making me uncomfortable. Mom may have forced Dad’s hand on leaving, but it was his decision to block me out of his life. Mom had stepped in the best she could. She had already admitted she was struggling with me leaving in two years. I couldn’t do this to her now.

“On second thought,” I said, forcing my voice to remain even, “I think I’ll just skip it. It will be a ton of work. I should just enjoy my time in Paris.”

“No,” she said quietly. “You should audition.”

My breath caught. “Mom, no. I can wait until—”

“No.” Her tone was firmer and she had a determined look in her eyes. “You need to do this. You
have
to do this.” She broke out into a huge smile. “Sophie! You were invited to audition for
Conservatoire de Seine
! This is huge!”

Relief washed through me when I heard her pride and excitement. “I might not get in, Mom.”

“You’ll get in.”

“But if I do . . . I’ll have to leave you.” My voice broke, and I swiped at a tear at the corner of my eye.

She sucked in her bottom lip, then smiled. “Unlike your father, I know how to use a phone. And email. And video-chats.” She could have sounded bitter, but she sounded encouraging. “And I can get on a plane. I’m sure you’ll have concerts. I’ll want to hear you play.”

“I don’t know what to say.” My throat burned and it hurt to push out the words.

“Say you’ll audition and give it your all.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I love you, Sophie. I’ll never stand in the way of your dream.” I suddenly wondered if there was more to my mother pushing my father toward France last summer.

Next I called Miss Lori and told her about the invitation to audition. She nearly broke my eardrum with her squeals of excitement.

“Sophie, you
must
audition!”

“I’d like to, Miss Lori, but I don’t even know what to play.”

We went over my existing repertoire, and the news was better than I’d thought. She thought my Mozart Sonata K.332 would work for the sonata, and for the etude she suggested I try Chopin Etude Op. 25 No. 2.

“You’ll have to work at it, Sophie. I mean push hard.”

“I know.” But I still worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

“Why don’t we schedule a time for you to video-chat me tomorrow, and I’ll listen to your Rachmaninoff piece? With the time difference, why don’t we try eight a.m. for me, two p.m. for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Lori.” That was later than I usually stayed at Mathieu’s, but if I couldn’t stay, I could always play on the electronic keyboard.

I hung up, realizing my next concern was finding sheet music. But I explained my dilemma to Eva, and she helped me look up the address for a music store in the Latin Quarter.

It was soon time to go to the Bastille Day celebration. Eric, Dane, Camille, and I left around five thirty with a blanket and a bag of food Eva had packed.

As we approached the
Champs de Mars
, I was shocked to see the huge crowd gathered on the lawn, listening to a band play on a temporary stage.

Dane stopped in his tracks. “I know you said the crowd would be huge, but this is insane.”

“This is nothing,” Camille said. “Besides, Marine and a group are already here.”

Would Mathieu be there? My pulse picked up at the thought. His mother said they had plans, but did that mean he wouldn’t be with his friends tonight?

Camille expertly wove her way through the bodies littered across the giant lawn. There were thousands of people on the grass, but she somehow knew exactly where to go. Military men with huge guns walked back and forth on the periphery, making me nervous as they watched for signs of trouble in the crowd. The police I usually saw in the city didn’t carry weapons like that.