The Academy - First Days (8 page)

Music Room B was smaller than I expected. It held a single upright
brown piano on the far side of the room and had a couple of rows of chairs
surrounding a dark green chalk board against the wall. Mr. Blackbourne sat at
the bench of the piano. He played a jazz piece. I stepped further into the
room, my fingers twisting around the straps of my book bag as I listened to him
play.

He seemed to be lost in the music for the moment. His fingers
flowed over the keys with an artistry that I was awestruck to witness. Even
with the clunky upright piano, he seemed to pull off magic.

His eyes caught mine and he stopped playing. The corners of his
mouth dipped softly. He stood and walked around the piano, straightening his
red tie. His striking features had me urging to stare but I was terrified to do
so. As he looked at me, my spine stiffened and I willed myself to remember my
posture.

“Miss Sorenson,” he said as a greeting, touching the corner of his
dark rimmed glasses. It was hard to think of him as a teacher. He looked barely
nineteen. It was his stern expression that made him seem older.

“Mr. Blackbourne,” I replied. I put my bag down on one of the
chairs. The bell rang and the room was still empty. I felt my throat closing
but I swallowed. “Where is everyone else?”

A brown eyebrow rose. “Else?”

“The other students.”

“There aren’t any others. I can’t teach a classroom to play. Just
one.”

My face radiated heat and my finger touched at my lower lip,
pushing toward my teeth. I was going to be his only student this year?

He stood at the front of the room. I wasn’t sure what to do. I
froze, my hands clasped behind my back.

“You didn’t bring a violin,” he said. It was almost a question,
but he asked as if he knew what my response would be.

“I’m sorry,” I offered. There wasn’t much more for me to say. The
truth was I hadn’t approached my parents about this class. I had been waiting
for a good time but with the recent argument with my mother, I wasn’t sure when
this would happen. Part of me had thought the school would have one for me,
like my sister could borrow one of the extra flutes from our old school when
she didn’t bring hers. He couldn’t have expected me to get one so soon, could
he?

Mr. Blackbourne didn’t seem fazed by this. He crossed the room to
the bench of the piano again and brought out a black case. He positioned it on
top of the piano and opened it to reveal a beautiful ebony violin. The tuning
pegs were encased in gold plating. The fingerboard and the chin rest was a
lighter shade of gray. Elegant perfection.

“Come,” he said. “Take this.”

I slinked forward but kept my hands behind my back. “I don’t want
to break it.”

“You won’t break it unless you’re careless.”

I sucked in a breath and held it, reaching delicately to take the
violin from him. I cradled it between my hands, my fingers smoothing over the
wood, feeling the cool material with my fingertips. Even the smell of the wood
and polish and resin made me tremble with nervousness.

“We’re here to play, not to look at it.” His steel gaze settled on
my face. He held out the bow.

I nodded, bringing the violin to my neck like I had seen countless
times in videos and pictures. The violin was lighter than I expected it to be
and yet the length of it made me feel clumsy just holding it. Taking the bow
from him, I held it loosely between my fingers and I waited for instructions.

Mr. Blackbourne inclined his head. His fingertips traced my elbow
and I lifted the violin higher. He repositioned the violin at my neck until the
very center of it was pointed at the middle of my throat. He stepped around
behind me, checking the angle from next to my head. “Do you see the strings? Do
you see how I’ve positioned it?”

I looked, catching the straight line down the neck of the violin.

“This is how it should look every time you pick up your violin.
You need to get used to this now. Keeping good habits from the beginning will
make this more comfortable for you. Posture and balance are important.” His
breath teased the back of my hair as he spoke. I smothered my trembling. He was
so close, only he was so focused on my posture, I wasn’t sure he noticed.

“I understand,” I said. I elevated the bow, settling the horsehair
strings on a spot against the violin’s bridge, ready to be directed to the next
step.

Mr. Blackbourne straightened immediately, and snatched the bow
from my hands. “Not yet,” he said, the sharpness of his voice returning.

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “No?”

“No.” He wrapped his hand around my wrist, moving the violin from
my neck. “Now put it back where I placed it.

I did what he instructed, pushing the end of the violin to my
neck.

“Check the strings.”

I looked and he was right. I adjusted the neck to hold it up
straighter.

“Put your chin against the rest.”

I did.

“Let go of the violin.”

I blinked at him, shocked. Would he have me wreck his beautiful
instrument? “I’ll drop it.”

“If you’re holding the violin right between your chin and your
shoulder, you won’t drop it. Let go of the violin,” he instructed, his voice
rising.

I hesitated. I couldn’t afford to pay for another one. Visions of
the violin crashing to the floor and splintering into a million pieces floated
past my eyes. He had to be crazy to trust me to hold on to it. “I don’t think I
should.”

He seized my hand from the neck of the violin and pulling my hand
away in a sharp motion. It jarred me forward and the violin nearly slid away
but I pushed my chin down on the rest, hiking up my shoulder to hold to it. The
violin dangled precariously.

He frowned, letting go of my hand. “Put the violin back into
position.”

My fingers shook. I picked the violin up and put it back against
my neck, checking the lines of the strings to make it straight.

“Now let go, this time without scrunching your neck.” His steel
gaze penetrated through to my own heart, as if he knew exactly how fast it was
beating.

“I almost lost it last time.”

“Now!” His voice intensified, echoing throughout the music room.

I closed my eyes. My hand slid away from the neck of the violin. I
did my best not to move my chin or shoulder to try to compensate.

The violin rocked forward but remained balanced.

“Good,” Mr. Blackbourne said, softer this time.

I opened my eyes to gaze on the violin, noting how badly it shook
as my body shivered.

He crossed his arms, circling me. I kept my hand down, fearing he
would smack it away again. He stopped behind me. I looked out toward the
opposite wall, holding my breath.

“You did well, Miss Sorenson,” he said softly. “It’s important for
a young lady to speak up and ask questions, or even resist an order when a
situation seems dangerous.” He treaded around again until he was facing me. He
grasped the violin by the neck, taking it from my shoulder.

I gazed at the floor. He was testing me. Did he need to do this to
teach me music?

His hand touched my chin. The tender fingertips lifted my head
until I was looking back into those gray eyes.

“I also need you to trust me,” he said softly. “Beyond doubt.
Beyond probably what you’ve ever been comfortable with in your life. If you’ll
allow me the chance...” His lips pursed as he scrutinized my eyes.

My cheeks radiated with heat. My throat felt dry and I wanted to
swallow but I was too afraid to move. He held me captivated by his command and
confidence.

His eyebrow lifted and he let go of my chin, stepping back. “I
expect you to have your own instrument by tomorrow.”

I felt my mouth drop open. “I...” There was nothing to say. Was he
expecting me to just magically create one? How could I convince my parents to
rush out and pay for a violin by that evening?

“Tomorrow.” His voice rose to that sharp severity. “Don’t come to
class unless you have one.”

When
the bell rang, I collected my bag and ran out into the hallway. There was no
way I could get a violin by tomorrow. I felt my chest grow heavy with
anticipation of the argument I would have to face with my mom that afternoon. I
wondered if I would be back at all.

 H
ungry

O
ut in the hallway, I realized for the first time since that
morning that I was walking without the boys around me. I slowed to a nervous
pace. I had gotten used to their company. Without them there, I felt a little
lost.

Now that I was alone, however, I wasn’t so distracted by the guys
that I was able to check out some of the other students. As I tugged my bookbag
tighter to my body, I spotted how some people would cluster along the walls of
the hallways, talking with friends, holding hands. I even spotted a couple
kissing in the shadows near a doorway. I blushed at catching someone in such an
intimate moment and turned away.

As I walked, I couldn’t help but notice how people reacted
whenever I was within view. Everyone seemed curious about every face they
didn’t recognize. Would this girl like me? Would he make fun of my clothes?

A sharp whistle cut through the hall, a cat call. I twisted my
head in reaction at the first tone. A group of boys leaned against the wall.
They laughed together and I wasn’t quite sure if their whistling was meant for
me or for any of the other girls around me.

“Sang!” Victor’s voice sounded from behind me. I turned in time to
spot him trying to hustle past some other students to get to me. “You should
have waited by the door,” he said. His cheeks were flushed. His white collared
shirt looked rumpled. He smoothed some of his wavy brown hair back away from
his forehead. “I was coming for you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Mr. Blackbourne...”

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, smiling. “No need to say more. But next time
wait for me. I’ll come get you.” He moved next to me so we were walking
together.

“Sticking together?” I asked.

His slender frame seemed to move so elegantly next to me that I
felt clumsy even though I was just walking. “It’s what we do.”

I smiled. “How was your morning so far?”

He shrugged. “It’s not the Academy.”

I blinked at him, surprised that he would say it out loud. “Isn’t
that supposed to be a secret?”

“No one’s listening,” he said.

What he said confused me. I couldn’t figure out what this secret
school must be like. I imagined dark hallways and masks and other students who
were just as intelligent and beautiful as the boys were. Compared to the
cracked tiles of the floor, the lack of variety in the classes, and the rambunctious
students of Ashley Waters High School, what would inspire nine people to bother
with trying to make it better?

“So how was Mr. Blackbourne?” he asked.

“I need to get a violin by tomorrow,” I said. “Or I can’t go
back.”

He smiled. “Yeah, he’s strict. Can you get one?”

“It’s kind of short notice but I’ll have to ask my parents. My mom
isn’t too happy with me right now.”

His fire eyes flickered. “I can go get you one.”

I shook my head. “Victor, you can’t...”

“Is this the right way?” he asked. He turned his head, looking for
the right door. I had a feeling he knew it was the correct way but he had
wanted to change the subject.

We had to walk outside and down the long sidewalk to the trailer
furthest away from the school, number thirty-two. While the crowd thinned out
considerably the further out we went, Victor still walked close beside me so
that his arm was slightly in front of mine. Anyone who gave us a glance might
have thought we were holding hands. Was this how other friends walked together?

He opened the door of the trailer for me. North was already
inside, sitting in the back row. I grabbed the seat in front of him and Victor
sat in front of me.

“I’m in the middle again,” I said. “If I didn’t know any better,
I’d assume you guys planned this.”

North playfully tugged at a strand of hair hanging in my face.
“Baby, we plan everything.”

I didn’t doubt this. Now their plans involved me, dictating where
I was sitting or who walked with me to class. Strange but I found some comfort
in it. I only wished I knew what they knew so I didn’t feel like I was in the
dark. Maybe it only took getting used to.

Victor sat back in his chair. I admired the way his wavy hair hung
around his ears. The clasp to the cord at his neck looked to be hanging by the
edge.

“Hold still, Victor,” I said, reaching to his neck.

At my touch, he jumped, rubbing where my fingers brushed his neck
as if I had pinched him. “What is it?” His eyebrows creased together.

“Sorry,” I said. “Your necklace. The clasp didn’t look like it was
holding on very well.”