Page 47 of The Darkest Note

“Is there a Miss Cooper in here?” the sub says again.

Every head swings in my direction.

Nerves tightening in my stomach, I slowly raise my hand.

“I have here,” she glances at a sheet of paper, “that you’re the only one who hasn’t done her practical assignment.”

“W-what?”

“According to the office, your assignment needs to be done today.” She smacks her lips together and adjusts her glasses. “Come on then.”

Fear grabs hold of my heart like a dog with a rag doll. I quiver in my seat. “Mr. Mulliez exempted me from that assignment, ma’am.”

“Probably because she was his sugar baby.” The statement comes from Christa, who shamelessly tosses her hair over her shoulder and grins at her own brilliance.

An outburst of laughter pours from the classroom and I feel the anger climbing its way up my chest. I’m willing to bet money that Dutch the Douche set this entire thing up.

My legs tremble when I push myself to a standing position. It doesn’t help that I can feel Dutch’s gaze drilling into me. He slings his arm over the back of his chair and watches me intently as I make my way to the front. One leg is thrown over the other and his expression is smug. He’s enjoying this, while I hate it with every breath in my body.

A lump forms in my throat and I approach the teacher rather than the piano.

“Excuse me,” I tell her, giving my back to the class, “but I’m not prepared for the practical assignment. A few days ago, my school-assigned keyboard was tampered with and I haven’t—”

“It doesn’t matter. You can use this keyboard.” She points to her own instrument.

“Please. I… I have stage fright.” It’s embarrassing to confess, but I absolutelycannotperform in front of people as myself. The last time I tried messed me up for life.

“It says here that you need to finish the assignment to get the grade,” the teacher insists.

“I…”

“Come on, Miss Cooper. Time is wasting.” She nudges me toward the piano.

Sweat breaks out on my neck when I fall into the seat. I can feel everyone staring at me, judging me. My heart threatens to explode.

Tapping my foot on the ground, I hover forward and set my hands on the keys.

Come on, Cadence. It’s not that different than when you’re in costume. Just pretend you’re someone else.

My eyes twitch and I struggle to breathe.

It’s not working.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I mumble. Lunging to my feet, I sprint past the frightened teacher and away from the sound of cruel giggles. Dutch’s heavy stare lingers on my back until the door slams shut behind me.

* * *

Cadence: Were you the one who told Dutch I have stage fright?

Jinx: A secret for a secret, Newbie. I’m the one who asks the questions. You’re the one who answers. Are you finally ready to play?

CHAPTERELEVEN

CADENCE

I’m grateful for a weekend away from Redwood. I spend most of Saturday working at the diner. On Sunday, my day off, Viola and I have a spa day and invite Breeze over.

The moment I see my best friend, I throw my arms around her. She laughs awkwardly—Breeze isn’t too big with public displays of affection—and tries to pry my arm off, but I only tighten my grip.

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