Page 132 of The Broken Note

She tilts her head up, staring at me like my ‘love story’ with Dutch is something to freaking look up to. If she knew how sordid and twisted my life became after Dutch barreled into it, she wouldn’t be so damn starry-eyed.

I dig my nails into the sink.

“I just wanted you to know that we’re such huge fans.” The girl flashes a brilliant smile. “I’m a scholarship kid too. Everyone at Redwood treated me like trash until you came along. They see us as something more than their punching bag now.”

The other girls nod enthusiastically.

“You control Dutch Cross now. Which is, like, insane. He actually listens to you. Plus you hang out with The Kings. You’re, like, the coolest kid ever.”

My head swings down, my chin hitting my chest. I release a shaky breath that rattles through my lips and fogs up the mirror.

“If you ever need help, you can ask me. For anything.” The girl bats her eyelashes.

I want to growl at her to ‘go away’, but I can’t find it in me to rip that smile off her face. I can’t find it in me to burst that bubble of hope and shove her face in the crap that’s become my life.

When I still don’t say anything, she finally gets the hint. With a small jerk of her chin toward the door, she leads her friends to the exits.

“Wait,” I rasp.

The girls stop and spin in one fluid motion, like ballet dancers. They’re already leaning forward, already eager to do whatever I command.

I pull my fingers into fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm.

“Do you know who Sol is?”

Her eyes bug. “Of course we know!”

“Find him for me and give him a message.” I sweep stone-cold eyes over the girls. “Tell him to meet me in the music room.”

She gasps. “But you can’t go in there. They banned that place after the fire—”

“Do it.” I cut her off. “Now.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

CADENCE

The walls have deep, gaping puncture wounds. Gnarled black lines. The fire chewed at the windows and tore at the ceiling, leaving behind ugly gashes. I inhale and the stench is so strong that it makes my eyes water.

The fire happened a while ago, but it feels like the fingers of hell are still dancing, flashing my face with heat and brushing against my skin.

Behind me, the door slips open and then shut.

I hear footsteps. The rustle of the yellow ‘CAUTION’ tape that was meant to keep students out.

And then silence.

I turn slowly.

Sol’s eyes are so dark, it almost hurts to look at him.

“Every night, I had the same nightmare.” His voice drops to a dangerously low tone, something guttural and empty. “You looked at me with that exact expression. Like you hated me.”

I’m vaguely aware of the chimes, signaling the start of another class. Vaguely aware of the sunshine pushing past the windows and falling on the charred desks and ruined plastic piano keys.

A low note plays in my head.

Music mourning its own.

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