Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) (17 page)

Dead silence and then, “
She plays naked
?” Spider hissed and elbowed me.

V jerked up out of her chair and gave me a disbelieving headshake. Her face had flushed a deep scarlet.

I flinched at the betrayal in her eyes. “Wait.” I stood as well, not caring that we had the attention of half the coffee place. “V—shit—that was low. I wanted him to know how things are between us …” I came to an abrupt halt when she turned her face away. I’d sounded needy and insecure anyway.
What was she doing to me?

“You’re an asshole,” Geoff murmured, shaking his head at me as he put his arms around V.

Surprising me, Spider jumped up, his chair making a horrible scooting noise on the tile. He pointed at Geoff. “Bugger me,
you’re
the dodgy one. I’ve been sitting here trying to keep it in, but you’ll not be a dick to my mate. Now, get the fuck out of my coffee shop before I bust your face.”

A hush settled around us as camera phones popped out.

“Fine by me,” Geoff said. He took Violet’s hand and led her away.

“That went well,” I muttered as I sat back down and scrubbed my face. Dazed.

Spider smoothed down his blue shirt and took his seat, looking surprisingly unruffled. He nibbled on a scone. “I don’t know about her, but you’re in trouble for holding out on me.
Really?
How could you not let me look when she stripped?”

Mila slapped his hand. “Be quiet. Can’t you see he’s upset?”

He pouted. “But it was naughty bits. I love naughty bits.”

She sighed. “Good grief, I’ll show you my tits later.”

It barely registered that Mila had said
tits
.

Because I wasn’t paying attention, too busy getting a read on Geoff as he followed behind V. I didn’t miss the triumphant smirk he shot me as they’d walked away

Geoff: 2. Sebastian: 0.

“He played me like a symphony.”

—from the journal of
Violet St. Lyons

THE CONFRONTATION AT the coffee shop ruined the rest of Geoff’s visit.

I was angry that Geoff had acted like he owned me, even insinuating that we’d slept together recently. He fumed that I’d let Sebastian hear me play, when that had been one of the first things he asked for when he’d arrived at my house. And the whole naked thing drove him insane.

The one thing we did agree on was to allow him to speak with the chancellor at the Manhattan School of Music. Maybe it would spur me on to do
something
with my career.

The next day, I drove him to the airport and walked him to the security checkpoint. Most of the time I avoided anything that might trigger memories of the crash, so this was the first time I’d been inside an airport since that day. I took it in and didn’t get the cold sweats or want to puke. I felt okay—not great—but I could function.

“You good?” he asked, as we walked past several pilots and flight attendants.

I nodded. “I know it seems small, but standing here is big.”

“I’m glad.” He set his bags down and tugged my hand until our chests were touching. He looked sad, and part of me—the old me—wanted to make him happy again. I reached up and kissed him hungrily. Desperately. Trying to find a spark. He groaned and gathered me close.

But it felt wrong.

He sighed heavily as we pulled apart. “You’re thinking about
him
, aren’t you?”

No. Yes.

I nodded.

He grimaced. “Why him? He’s not anything like what I pictured you with.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes there isn’t an answer—just a feeling.” I pushed a strand of auburn hair off his face and cupped his cheek. “Not that it matters because I can see you’re still jealous, but I’m
not
with him.”

“I think your heart is,” he said tersely as regret flickered over his face. “I know I’ve dated girls after you, but you were always the goal, and somehow, you’ve already forgotten all about me.” He sighed. “I came here for a reason and my offer still stands. If you come back to New York, I’ll be the best damn man for you. I
will
make you forget about him.”

I smiled. “You make me breathless with statements like that.”

He smirked. “But is it enough for you to let this place go?”

“I don’t know.” There
were
things I missed about New York: the zoo, the pizza, the winter weather. But here I’d played my violin at the base of the Santa Monica Mountains. Here I was growing. Changing.

He fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out my promise ring. It glittered under the lights in the airport. “Whatever happens in the next few weeks, just remember that I still love you, and if you still want this ring, it’s burning a hole in my pocket.” He paused. “I’ve carried it with me for a year and a half, Violet. Waiting.”

His poignant words tugged at me. Was there a chance for us? Could he love the new me?

My throat clogged and I couldn’t speak. I nodded and hugged him.

“I’ll call you,” he said, and sent me one last lingering look and joined the security line.

I stood and watched until he disappeared into the crowd.

THAT NIGHT I crawled into bed with some old photo albums. I flipped through the pictures, looking at the moments captured there. I stroked the lines of my mother’s face. I traced my father’s smile. I wept. Yes, grief was its own fucking species, and I was tired of breathing it. Living it.

Meeting Sebastian and seeing Geoff again … it made me realize that I wanted my world back. And for the first time since the crash, something in me shifted—a desire to just be still and listen to my heart. To my parents.

My father had saved me. Was I going to let it all be for nothing? Is this the life my mother would have wanted for me? To wallow in guilt and sorrow? To give up my dreams?

Adrenaline rushed over me, and my head roared. I clung to it, jumped up and grabbed my violin and ran out to my balcony, too fired up to make it to the patio. I put my bow to the strings and ripped into the opening bars of Fall Out Boys’ “The Phoenix”
.
I surrendered myself to the heavy beat, letting the music take me out of myself and back into the girl I used to be. Feeling wild and light-headed, I stripped the song down, turning the low notes into maddening and powerful high notes. I twisted it around and made it mine.

I played furiously, letting all the pent-up anguish out, showing my parents that I still had it what it took to be a star.

I didn’t play for grief or loss or even for Sebastian. I played for
Violet
. Me.

And it was good. Euphoric.

The next morning, I drove to Lyons Place and parked in the front. I got out of my car and went inside on unsteady legs. Mrs. Smythe, a longtime friend of my parents, met me at the door and shook my hand. She’d been the perfect choice to oversee the everyday operations of the hundred-bed facility, and I was glad I’d chosen her.

She gazed at me and patted my hand. “Are you ready? If you are, they’re all waiting for you in the cafeteria.”

I nodded and followed her, muscles rigid, a cold sweat popping out on my skin.

“What do I say?” I gasped out, barely able to talk as we approached a door where I could already hear the low rumble of kids’ voices behind it. My heart was banging in my chest and my tapping was out of control.

“Tell them your story, Violet, or don’t. They pass no judgment. They’ve all got their own demons, and knowing that you’ve been through the same things they have—it means something.”

I lifted my violin from its case. Stroked the soft wood. “May I—may I play for them?”

“Of course, my dear,” she said.

And so, I walked into the cafeteria that I’d helped design. On the back wall was a mural of the lion at Central Park, his big slumbering eyes golden and full of mystery as a comet zoomed overhead. On the right side was a portrait of my parents. Not a formal one where you’d sit down in front of a photographer, but a casual shot of my dad messing around with his guitar, and my mom gazing at him adoringly. And there I was—sitting on a chair watching them, wearing the soft smile of a girl with fairy dust in her heart.

It was a moment of frozen happiness.

I took a giant breath and looked into the eyes of the kids who waited for me. They stared and I stared back, fighting the panic, and for the first time …
winning
.

In a low, halting voice I talked about my parents.

“My father only had one goal in life and that was to make my mother happy.
She
was only happy when she was helping others. They took me to Africa, the Ukraine, even China … and through all of our adventures, the lesson they taught me was simple: I was an extremely lucky girl,
but
I was not the only person in the world, and that we only truly know ourselves when we give back. When they died, I—I forgot that for a while. Their legacy and that lesson is why I’m here today. For two years it was the one reason I never could take my own life.” I inhaled. “So today, I’m here to commit myself to Lyons Place and make it a home worthy of you.”

Silence followed my speech.

And then, among the artifacts of my past, I lifted my violin and played for them.