Page 47 of Kneeling for Them
Hanging in the pause
Waiting on the line
In every missed beat
I’m here…I’m here
Impatient for your time.
Frowning, I scratch out two of the lines.It doesn’t work yet.The rhythm’s off.I substitute words, trying to get the correct feel.
Tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck.I feel like I’m being watched.I quickly twist around to look out the practice room’s window.
A face peers in at me.I don’t catch much detail before they disappear, but it isn’t one of the guys, I can tell that much.Too short.Blond hair.
It’s probably someone waiting to use the room.I’m almost done, I guess.I just want to write down some of the ideas I have for the bridge’s melody, so I plunk them out on the keys and scribble them in my notebook so I won’t forget.I hum as I go, lost in my work.
I stop suddenly, again feeling as if I’m being watched.I don’t see anyone through the window, but the feeling remains.
That’s it, I’m out of here.My instincts have saved me more than once when walking around Bellefleur at night.While my rational mind tries to tell me it’s just someone waiting for the room, that I’m only imagining things because there’s obviously no one here, well, I’m going to trust my gut.
Leaving the practice room, I first look around to make sure nobody’s stalking me.The hall is empty.I pull out my phone, getting ready to text Kingston and Sebastian, but I hear the chatter of people approaching and a group of students comes around the corner.I hoist my bag over my shoulder and fall into their midst, pretending I belong with them, returning to the tricks I use to get through Bellefleur at night.
Whoever was at the door was probably just waiting for the room, and I’m probably just paranoid because I still haven’t heard from Tommy.It’s probably just cold and spooky here.
“Probably just” is not good enough, though.I’d rather feel safe.
The college students that I’m walking with start looking at me funny because they’re apparently a tight group, so I give them a quick wave and take the nearest exit out of the building.
Bright sunlight nearly blinds me.I blink rapidly and pull fresh, warm air into my chilled lungs.Dozens of people relax out on the expansive green lawn, soaking in the sunshine, chatting, studying.A few of them have formed a drum circle and I let the heavy rhythm soothe my pounding heart and ease it to a normal speed.
Two women sit nearby on a picnic blanket, books open in their laps, but they’re people-watching instead of studying.One of them spots me and lifts up her sunglasses.“Are you okay?You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“Yeah, just spooked,” I say.“Kanno Hall seemed really empty just now.”
“Oh, I get that,” the other girl says.“It’s so quiet in there sometimes.The faint music from people practicing makes it sound haunted.And it’s always freezing in there.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say, gesturing at my thick hoodie.
The sound of my phone ringing surprises me, and I pull it from my pocket.Kingston’s name lights up the screen, and my mood brightens at the same time.I give the girls a brief smile and step a few feet away to take the call.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.You’re looking especially delectable right now.”
My head snaps up and I scan the quad for him, andthere.He’s not far from the women on the picnic blanket.I can’t believe I didn’t see him as soon as I stepped out of the building.The man is magnetic.His fine suit and self-assured stance draw the eye.I’m not the only person staring at him, either.The two women I just spoke with are gazing at him, their mouths gaping.
“Do you think he’s a new professor?”one of them asks.
“He can teach me whatever the hell he wants,” the other one says.
Trying not to giggle, I end the call and walk past them and up to Kingston.
“Is he her dad?”one of the women wonders aloud.
He sweeps me into his arms and kisses me on the mouth.I cling to him, kissing him back, feeling rejuvenated, reclaimed, like all is right in the world once more.
“Not her dad,” the woman mutters, while her friend cackles.
