Page 11 of Crescendo

“I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care. Tell me what Camden would sound like.”

I shook my head, looking away from her. If she wanted a real answer, I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for it.

Camden. Busy, bustling, wild Camden. Whatwouldit sound like?

“Unconventional,” I said after a moment, my voice almost breathless. “Classical strings, soaring flutes, a driving bass guitar, and a pounding drumline. It’s not my area, but synths. Definitely synths.”

“Good.” I could hear the smile in her voice. She really would have been a great teacher. “Musical influences, styles?”

“Punk. Rock. Alternative. Something a little dirty. But the solid reliability of classical. The beautiful with something…real.”

“Not bad.”

I looked up, shocked.Shewas complimentingme? That didn’t make any sense.

“See, now I don’t have to worry about Eliza and Hannah beating you. You’re going to wipe the floor with them.”

“You don’t even know them.”

“I know them well enough.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been losing your touch.”

I laughed. “Nice accent. You almost soundold money,like Clara.”

“Thank you. I figured since Eliza’s using a fake accent, I’d join in. Maybe it will help us bond.”

“I highly doubt that. If anything, I imagine it will make things worse.” I hesitated. “Though, I suppose they did start this whole thing with that confrontation.”

“And I’m going to finish it.”

“Do I need to worry you’re going to need help moving a dead body?”

“No.” She flashed me a look that seemed to disagree with her answer but she smiled broadly. “This is about music. And I’m going to teach you how to play the piano, and Bansi and Clara, if they need it too. Bansi would love that. He’s a fan, apparently.”

“I imagine everyone in the programme is.”

“Eh. Clara was fine.”

There was no way I was pointing this out to Lydia, but I imagined Clara was fine with her because she wasn’t the first famous person Clara had met. She was, however, definitely the first famous person I’d met—Bansi, too, maybe.

We made it to our building to find Eliza and Hannah hanging around their own doorway. It was honestly a little creepy. There was no reason to be standing in the door unless they were waiting for us—well, Lydia—which… seemed to be exactly what they were doing.

“Oh, Lizzy. How grand to see you again,” Lydia said in her obnoxiously fake British accent.

Eliza’s eyes flashed. Lydia really did get under her skin.

I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was a massive fan—maybe even had a little crush on Lydia, from the way she looked at her—but was toxically competitive and desperate to impress her. The problem was she was going about it all wrong. People were so complicated sometimes.

“Sure,” Lydia said with the least agreement such an affirmative could hold. “So, just loitering in the hopes of getting another look at the world’s greatest composer?”

A surprised laugh bubbled inside of me. Lydia’s confidence was astounding. As was the way she seemed to actually enjoy the antagonism a little bit. There was never a wayto beat someone who refused to take things seriously. Though, it was beyond me why they thought Lydia would take it seriously. Despite her insistence that she was now a failure, she had to know how talented and amazing she was. Two random women in a music programme weren’t likely to crush her confidence anytime soon.

“Ugh,” Eliza said, clearly simmering. “As if. We’re just standing here talking about how terrible this song fromOver the Moonis.”

“On the doorstep?” I asked, unable not to. I hadn’t meant to get involved but the whole thing was so ridiculous.

Eliza simply shot me a snide look before hitting play on her phone. “Terrible, isn’t it?”

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