Page 75 of Nobody in Particular

She glances back at me, and then frowns. “What’s funny?”

“You. You’re all jealous.”

She shrugs, and looks off again.

“We thought I was the one who was going to struggle with keeping us secret,” I say, “but it’s not as easy as you thought it was gonna be, is it?”

“Shush.”

“I spent most of the day watching you,” I say. “I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. You’re the last person who needs to worry, I promise.”

The smile she gives me makes me want to stop in my tracks and pull her in to me, right here in the courtyard, and never let go. If only.

“Thank you,” she says, and I make sure to “accidentally” brush against her as we walk. And once more, for good measure. It’s not enough, but it’s what we’ve got, so I’ll take it.

THIRTY-ONEDANNI

I’m on edge all through dinner that night. So much so I can barely eat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rose asks from her place next to me. Under the table, she nudges my foot with hers. “Does anyone know if a lack of appetite is a sign of a concussion?”

“Why would you have a concussion?” Molly asks me from across the table while she cracks her crème brûlée.

“She fell down at skating and hit her head.”

“Well, have you gone to the nurse?” Molly asks, pausing with her spoon halfway to her mouth.

“No, I’m fine, I promise,” I say. “I’m not in pain anymore.”

“You don’t look fine,” says Eleanor. “You look pale.”

“I am pale.”

“I’m taking you to the nurse after dinner,” Rose decides.

“We have the arts performance after dinner.”

“We’ll skip it,” Rose says.

I shove down a mouthful of crème brûlée pointedly, but it doesn’t convince her.

Once the plates have all been cleared, and the headmaster stands to announce tonight’s performance details, Rose runs a fingertip along my thigh under the table, causing a shiver to run along its trailand radiate up and out. My mind fogs over. “Come on,” she says. “We can leave now, nobody will mind. If you’re not well…”

“I can’t leave,” I say, as quietly as I can get away with. “I wrote you something.”

“You… pardon?”

The headmaster takes center stage, and I almost pass out. Here I go. “For tonight’s arts performance,” he says, “we’re being treated to an original piano piece by Danni Blythe. For those of you who haven’t yet had the privilege of meeting Danni, she joined us this year from America, and is one of the most remarkable piano talents Caroline has seen in a long time. And anybody who knows Caroline will agree this is high praise from her indeed.”

Understanding dawns on Rose’s face, as our friends whoop and cheer for me, and Harriet gets to her feet, clapping and jumping she’s so excited. If I thought I was nervous at dinner, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

But like Rose said, I have to keep taking the next step forward, or I’m going to be stuck in place. If there’s even a chance in hell of me becoming a soloist one day, I’ve got to let myself be perceived.

Besides—I’ve already been perceived, right? I’ve had my face plastered all over Molly’s socials, and tabloids, and news articles. I’ve been watched, and photographed, and filmed, over and over again, for the whole freaking country to see. People in other countries, even. Today is the perfect example of that. This is just a teeny tiny piano piece—a simple one at that—for one roomful of students.

Still, somehow, this feels a thousand times scarier.

The piano was brought onto the dining hall stage especially for this—I’m surprised its presence didn’t tip Rose off, actually, but she was too busy freaking out about my head to notice anything else.

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