Page 21 of Crescendo

“I do not.”

“Sure you do. Don’t worry, you’re only human.”

Eliza groaned. “I’m going to kill you before this thing is over.”

Lydia laughed. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re so annoying,” she said, stalking away again—further this time.

I had a feeling she’d be back, though, and not just because we were basically contractually obliged to spend all of this time together, but also because she didn’t seem to be able to stay away.

“I’m, er, good,” I said, pressing backwards against Lydia’s grip until she let me go.

She looked me over and nodded. “Now you look suitably invigorated. Not so bad taking up the stage, is it?”

I shot her an incredulous look. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person suited to the stage.”

“I’m never wrong. I say you are. And I’m making it my mission to get you to realise it too.”

“Lydia, I don’t think that’s how any of that works. You can’t just… make me realise something like that.”

“Sure I can. Are you underestimating me?Me? Really?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. What couldanyonesay to that? Nothing that Lydia would be interested in hearing or actually listening to.

I glanced to where our group was being led off the stage. “Come on. That’s enough stage for one day.”

“But not for one life. We’ll be back.” She nudged me as we walked, falling in behind Bansi and a young Spanish guy he was talking to. “Maybe I’ll add ‘get your piece performed at the Royal Albert Hall before Eliza does’ to your list of accomplishments.”

“Oh, god. Please don’t. That’s not something that’s ever going to happen, and I don’t want Eliza to think I’m trying to compete with her.”

“Youarecompeting with her.”

“In your mind.”

“In everyone’s mind. And you’re going to win. Trust me.”

“I really, really don’t.”

“Well, you should.” She shot me a look and I held her gaze for a fraction too long in the dull light of the wings. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want your piece performed here?”

My throat constricted uncomfortably. How was I supposed to answer that? Wouldn’t everyone love to be good enough that they got to play or be performed at the Royal Albert Hall? Wasn’t I supposed to want that desperately? Didn’t I sign up for thisclass so I could learn the things I needed to know to get to that point?

But something about it felt wrong. And it wasn’t just stage fright. There was no fright to have when you weren’t the one on the stage. No, it was the same thing that shut me down at the piano last night. The same thing that had me staring down a clarinet, feeling like even putting it together was too much.

Maybe I hadn’t been ready for this class. Maybe I was going to fail it because I couldn’t actually handle any of this.

“Ella?” Lydia prompted, right before we stepped out into the bright hallway again.

“Oh. Sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what I was planning to say, if I’d had anything to say, but, luckily, we didn’t have to find out.

As I blinked against the light, someone called Lydia’s name.

“Well, well, well,” he said, approaching. “What the devil are you doing here? I thought we had to come to you in LA, not vice versa?”

Lydia laughed as the man stopped in front of her. He was tall, slim, and with an unmistakably British style.

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