Page 25 of Phantom
“No!” Jilliana yelps before gentling her voice again. “Just… no. All I want is to get through my senior year unscathed. No one will hire me if they think I accuse directors of… you know.”
I nod reluctantly, not comfortable with the forced limbo Jilliana is in. But I totally get it. I didn’t report Jacques last week and he was just one of the temporary stagehands, not ourdirector.
“I’m sorry Jilliana… if I can do anything—”
“You can’t,” she murmurs. “Not unless you can find the blackmailer. Whoever he or she is, is ruining everything.”
“Believe me, if I could find him, I would.” Even though I have no idea who is sending the letters, I still feel weirdly responsible and wish I could do more than just comfort her. “Can I give you a hug?”
She gives me a watery smile, and as she stands, I embrace her taller form underneath her arms and whisper. “I think you should report him, but I get why you’re afraid. I’ll help any way I can, even if it’s just holding your hand while you come forward.”
“Thanks, girl. I don’t want to do anything, yet. I just—” Her hug stiffens right before she pushes me away so hard I almost fall. She snatches a paper off my desk and my heart freezes in my chest as cold panic grips me. “What the hell is this, Scarlett?”
She flips over the envelope from my demon of music, revealing the crimson wax seal I’d carefully opened around to keep intact.
“Jilliana, I can explain—”
“You said you had nothing to do with Monty’s blackmail.”
I take a step forward, but she raises the letter above her head, making it impossible to reach.
“I didn’t. I—”
“Then why the fuck do you have the same envelope?”
I stop trying to retrieve the letter and riffle through my jewelry box to find the sheets of music from my other letters. Part of me wants to keep my demon to myself and own up to a crime I didn’t commit. But my fingers shake on the paper because I’m more terrified I’ll get kicked out of Bordeaux if I keep him a secret any longer.
“What game are you playing, Scarlett?”
“It’s from… the envelope is from my…” I hesitate, not knowing how to out him and not seem crazy.
“Spit it out. Who is sending you letters?”
My demon of music.
“It’s from a secret admirer,” I finally blurt out.
Boiling my demon down to such a simple moniker feels like a betrayal on my tongue, drying my mouth like ash. But it’s the best I can come up with without sounding off my rocker for corresponding with what is essentially a very musically talented stalker.
I hand her the many pages of sheet music before I can stop myself. She takes them warily, eyes narrowed.
“A secretadmirer?” Her words are carefully measured before she studies the papers. After a moment, she hums one of my favorites until a high note cuts her off with a squeak. She clears her throat and those angry emerald eyes shoot daggers at me. “Nice song. And how convenient it is that it’s perfectly in your register. Tell me something, Scarlett, whenever do you find the time to compose, what with all your backstabbing and blackmailing?”
My jaw drops. “What? No, I—”
“Did you give me the stomach flu too? So I’d have to miss the one night casting directors come to scope out the talent?”
“Jilliana, you have to believe me—” I take a step forward and Jilliana gathers all the sheet music up before power walking out my door.
“Believe what? That you’re a lying bitch who is so pathetic she writes herself love letters?”
She twists the papers in her hands, ripping up a page of music, and I run after her to rescue my gifts. Thanks to her dance experience, she easily pivots away from me before picking up her pace and throwing handfuls to the ground. My throat tightens as each piece drops.
“Jilliana, stop! Please—”
I bend to the ground to collect them as we go, ignoring all the ogling spectators drawn to our drama. She continues to march toward the stage and hot tears burn my eyes. I do my best to keep them from rolling down, widening my eyes so that I don’t embarrass myself even more by getting too emotional, but it’s nearly impossible to stay composed.
By the time I’ve caught up to her, she’s already in the middle of the stage, ripping all the music sheets and my heart into shreds, scattering them both to the ground like confetti.
