Page 83 of The Devil and His Sparrow

She raised a brow and tilted her head slightly. “For what? I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you after everything you’ve done for me.”

I shook my head at the suggestion. Swallowing hard, I said, “Thank you for seeing me.”

Surprise lit her eyes for a moment before a small smile replaced it. “Thank you for hearing me.”

Chapter 26

Iyla

TERRIFIED WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. I was literally starting all over, and Zagan was right. Starting from scratch wasn’t going to be easy. Despite feeling absolutely horrified at the idea, I had to admit that I was a little excited at the prospect, too. For the first time ever, my dreams felt possible. Far away, sure. But possible. I was allowed to think about it at the very least, and that was more than I’d ever been allowed before.

How was I going to get there?

That was what I was trying to figure out as I sat down across from my advisor come Monday morning.

“It’s good to see you,” Mrs. Yates said as she repositioned in her brown leather chair. Her gray hair hung around her face in a sharp bob, and her black glasses hung around her slender neck on their beaded necklace. She placed her folded hands on the top of her desk, the air of complete professionalism radiating off her. “I looked over your grades on your way over here. They are looking as fabulous as always. You’re really excelling.”

Her praise made the nerves in my stomach run rampant. I forced a smile and said, “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot.”

She waved a wrinkly hand at me and asked, “So what were you needing to meet about?”

I swallowed the sand in my throat. “I recently got to thinking about my future, and I … well, I wanted to see what steps I needed to take to change my major.”

She raised her slender black brows. “Change your major?” She plucked the glasses dangling over her chest and put them on as she grabbed some papers. “Political science is the best major for someone who’s looking to become an attorney. Are you wanting to just add a minor, or—”

“Music,” I breathed out, making her freeze in her search for a pen. “I want to be transferred to the music department.”

Mrs. Yates stared at me over the rim of her glasses. She’d gone as still as a paused movie, stalling in place so that her gaze bore into mine. Finally, she repeated, “Music?”

I nodded and shifted nervously in my seat. “I know it sounds crazy. We’re nearing the end of the first semester of my junior year, and I’ve already taken so many pre-law courses. But I—I really want to do this. I want to play piano professionally.”

Mrs. Yates slowly leaned back in her chair, her blue eyes tracing my face like she couldn’t believe I was actually sitting here and saying all of this. “Can I ask where this is coming from? You’ve never shown an interest in the music department before. You’ve never even glanced at the music electives.”

“Actually,” I started, my hands fumbling with the material of my pants in an effort to keep my shaking fingers busy, “it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I just never thought I could until now. It took a long time, but I finally feel ready to reach for it. For my dream.”

And it was all thanks to a demon who refused to let me continue hiding away in my cage.

Mrs. Yates watched me skeptically, and the confusion previously marring her features slowly morphed. Her nose turned up slightly, and the faintest condescending smile pulled at her lips in an expression I knew all too well from interactions with Mom and her colleagues. It was a look they reserved for people they deemed beneath them.

“And do you know how to play piano?” she questioned, that haughty tone just barely shining through her professional one.

I ignored it and nodded. “I do.”

It had been years since I’d played, and I’d never actually studied music and all that went into it. I’d have a lot of work cut out for me, and it was going to feel near impossible. But the prospect of doing that for the rest of my life—learning new pieces, performing for audiences here and far—made the resolve in my gut harden. For the first time, I was sure of myself. This was what I wanted, and this was what I was meant to do. Not study cases to argue in a stiff suit in the courtroom.

I wasn’t a lawyer.

I wasn’t my mother.

I was a pianist.

Mrs. Yates slowly took her glasses off and held them tightly as she rested her chin on her knuckles. “I love that you have this calling to play the piano,” she said, her tone all forced politeness. “That’s a great hobby to pick up. I’m sure you could find a course or private lessons to do on the side. You don’t need to change your entire major and career choice for that. You’re such a gifted individual, Iyla. Smart with a successful mother in the same field. Throwing that away would be …” she paused and waved her glasses as she searched for the words. Finally, she finished with, “A pity.”

The churning in my gut grew. Only now, there was bitterness mingling with the anxiety. Bitterness at her dismissal of what I wanted, and bitterness over her judgmental attitude.

It took me a few moments to find my voice. “With all due respect, Mrs. Yates, this isn’t a hobby. Playing piano is a career, and it’s what I want to do with my life. My mother is successful, but her success doesn’t determine what mine should look like. I want to do this.” I took a deep breath and added, “Please.”

She stared at me, looking like she was contemplating dismissing me and pretending this exchange never happened. Her chair swiveled slightly from side to side as if it, too, were debating what to say or do. Did she fight me on this to try and keep me on the path that had been laid out for me, or did she let me carve my own?

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