“Let me play it again,” I pleaded. “I’ll do better—”
“No.” Maestro Claudio shook his head adamantly. “There is nothing I can do to help you.” He pointed to my fingers with the tip of his baton. “These … are not the problem. Come back to see me when you’ve unmuddled your mind, and then some progress can be made.”
Without another word, the maestro huffed into the music department office. With dread in my chest, I stowed my cello in my music locker and hurried into the hallway—and straight into Kiya.
“Sorry,” I murmured, and turned away, wanting nothing more than to escape this awkward collision without having to make polite conversation.
“Nadine, hang on,” Kiya called after me.
I cringed. I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t heard her. I turned to face her, but when she saw my expression, her smile dimmed.
“Whoa, are you okay?” She stepped closer and reached out, as if she wanted to put a hand on my shoulder.
“Sure,” I muttered. “Tired, that’s all.”
She nodded, but her eyes said she wasn’t buying that excuse. “That’s what I tell people when I’m having an awful day and I don’t want them to catch on.” My eyes must have betrayed some surprise, because she laughed softly. “What? You don’t think I have bad days?”
I shrugged. “You don’t seem to. You’re always smiling.”
She laughed again, then leaned toward me to whisper, “Maybe I’m putting on a good show, but I’m not Little Miss Sunshine.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean?”
She cocked her head at me. “Well, I left my best friends back in New York. Until a week ago, I didn’t know a soul in Woodburn. My dad’s having some weird midlife career crisis, and my mom hates it here. She says the cold in Vermont sucks her soul.”
I couldn’t help my smile. “It is cold here.” I reluctantly met her gaze. “I didn’t realize you were having a tough time,” I added. “You’re so … I don’t know … put together.”
She stuck her hands on her hips and tossed her hair theatrically. “I guess I am,” she joked. “I’ve really been working at it. It’s kind of exhausting, smiling all the time, but I figured it was a good way to make new friends. There’s something to the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ idea.”
Guilt stung my stomach. For the first time, I considered everything Kiya might be adjusting to. “You must miss New York,” I offered up.
She sighed. “So … so much. The excitement, the bright lights,the skyscrapers … the bagels!”
I laughed. “Yeah, Woodburn doesn’t do bagels. Maple syrup’s more our specialty.”
She nodded. “Hence the Maple Madness drink at the Snug Mug?”
I felt my spirits flag. “But your dad’s getting rid of that.”
“Oof.” Kiya gave me an apologetic look. “Sore spot. Sorry. But what exactly do you have against the Snug Mug’s changes? Daniel is open to them …”
I blushed at the mention of Daniel’s name. I was so mad at him—even now—but that didn’t change the fact that I also missed him … so much.
“The thing is, I’ve heard a few kids at school complaining about the menu change, too,” Kiya continued, “but no one will tell me what they think. Like I’m untouchable or something.” She rolled her eyes, and I nearly laughed, appreciating the self-deprecation, which made her seem more real and less perfect than usual.
“Do you really care what I think?” I didn’t even try to hide the doubt in my voice. “Your family owns the Mug now. You can do whatever you want with it.”
She thought about this, then said carefully, “I get that. But my dad has this idea of making the shop sleeker, more city chic. I’m not sure that’s what Woodburn is, or what it should be. And …” She met my gaze fully now. “Daniel mentioned to me once that there was a story behind how the specialty drinks started, and you were an important part of it. So I figured, if that were true, you could tell me about it.”
I swallowed, debating what, if anything, I wanted to tell her. Finally, I settled on the truth, minus some of the more painful details. “It started when Daniel and I were in second grade. He had this idea that if we learned how to make special kinds of coffee, it might bring back something in my life that … I’d lost. Marley helped us, and the menu grew from there.” I was talking quickly, because I didn’t want my own thoughts dwelling on how sweet Daniel had been to do that for me. “It started off as one of the big ideas Daniel is always getting when he wants to make someone happy. You know, like all the surprises he planned for—”
My mouth clamped shut before the word you came out, but I wondered if it was too late, because Kiya’s eyes widened, and a revelatory light dawned on her face.
“Anyway, that’s how it happened,” I rushed on.
“Thanks,” Kiya said softly. “For telling me what happened. I didn’t realize how important …” She paused, seeming to debate her next words. “… how important the menu was to you.” She nodded. “And to everyone in Woodburn.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Your dad’s made up his mind, so …”
Kiya’s phone buzzed with a text then, and she said, “I’ve gotta go.” She started to walk away, then paused, turning back. “I’m glad we talked, Nadine. I hope, once you get to know me more, we can become better friends.” She smiled and waved, leaving me standing in the hallway. Despite how much I’d wanted to dislike her, I admired her candor and friendliness, especially in the face of my own standoffishness.
Maybe I hadn’t been fair to her. Maybe my opinion of her was as misguided and muddled as so much else in my life.
Dazedly, I walked to my locker. I was half worried and half hoping I’d discover Daniel waiting for me, a sorrowful puppy-dog look on his face. Or maybe Elle and Brandon were there, ready to launch into a long list of the many reasons why I should forgive Daniel so that our circle of friends could survive unscathed. When I found the hallway in front of my locker empty, I guessed, with a mix of relief and disappointment, they’d all decided that the best MO was to let me have some time to process everything on my own.
That was until I opened my locker and hundreds of colorful paper music notes tumbled out. I picked up a handful of notes and read the I’m sorry scrawled in Daniel’s handwriting across each one.
Ugh. I sank against the lockers just as Elle texted me.
Did you get them? her text read.
I closed my eyes. Of course, Daniel was probably texting Elle or Brandon every few seconds wanting to know if I’d shown any signs of forgiving him yet. Part of me was softened by Daniel’s thoughtful gesture. But I couldn’t deal with any of it. Not after Maestro Claudio had basically spelled out audition doom for me.
My audition was in three days, and if I didn’t pull myself together, I was going to blow my chance at Interlochen camp.
I scooped the notes into my arms and tossed them into the nearest trash can. Next, I turned off my cell phone. I couldn’t afford any distractions. I needed to get a grip on my mind and find my musical mojo again, and I was going to have to do it alone.
Four hours later, I hurried back to the music room. I’d managed to avoid my friends for the first half of the day. Now, I planned to spend my lunch period doing battle with my bow until I broke through my burnout.
I was almost to the music room door when Daniel rounded the corner, and my stomach dipped three octaves from my throat to my toes.
“Nadi.” He waved to me. “Hold up! Please!” His expression was scared but hopeful, and it pained me to look at it.
My heart tugged at me, asking me to stop, to give Daniel a chance. But my mind could only think of the countdown to the audition, and how every second I spent between now and then not practicing was one more second lost.
“I can’t,” I whispered, and spun away to avoid seeing the hurt on his face. I stepped into the music room and shut the door, leaning against it and fervently hoping he wouldn’t follow me inside.
He didn’t. Silence
swallowed me, and I sank onto the nearest chair. I unpacked my cello, telling myself that this time I’d draw the music from my instrument the way I used to. But each time my bow touched the strings, Daniel’s face loomed before my eyes, and the cello screeched instead of sang.
I tried and failed, tried and failed, until panic had my heart racing and my hands were too slick to play at all. There was nothing to be done. I couldn’t play. The notes were lost to me, the music gone. Slowly, I laid my bow across the music stand and turned on my phone.
I looked up the Interlochen summer camp admissions number and dialed. Every ring on the line was an alarm blaring. Failure, failure, failure. At last, someone answered, and I offered up my name.
“Ms. Durand.” The assistant’s voice was cursory. “Our scheduling system shows that your appointment with the camp admissions officer is at eleven a.m. this Thursday in our satellite audition location in Burlington. How can I help you?”
“Yes.” I swallowed and dragged the words up into my throat, feeling their burn. “I’m canceling my audition.”
For the rest of the school day, minutes turned into eternities as I waded through my classes, my head and heart aching. I’d shut the door on my chance with Interlochen and on Daniel. Everything—from the hallway chatter about the upcoming Fall Formal to the test I took (and likely barely passed) in math—disappeared in my fog of gloom.
After the last bell rang, I dragged myself and my cello through the school’s doors and into the cold afternoon air. It was only when I heard the gasps and excited buzz of my classmates that I snapped out of my haze long enough to notice what was happening. Crowds of students were lingering on the school’s lawn, necks craned back, eyes raised toward the sky.
I followed everyone’s gazes to the school’s rooftop, and my head spun at the sight of Daniel standing at the roof’s edge. He was hoisting an enormous net over the side of the building, grinning at the kids below, as if this were his finest moment.
“What’s he doing?” one girl asked.
“Getting suspended,” quipped a boy nearby.
Just then, Kiya and Georgette walked out of the school. At the very same moment, Daniel opened the net overhead to release hundreds of mint-green balloons into the air. They drifted to the ground, cascading over Kiya, who was laughing in delight and surprise.
“They have something written on them,” Georgette said, picking one up. She handed it to Kiya. “They’re for you.”
“What?” Kiya asked, then turned one of the balloons over in her hands and read aloud, “ ‘Kiya, will you go to Fall Formal with me? From, Your Secret Admirer.’ ”
My chest clenched. He’d done it. Daniel had followed through with his plan, despite the fact that Kiya had been into Graham only a few days ago. He was dauntless in his never-ending optimism, even now, in the face of possible humiliation. He was always putting himself out there, making himself vulnerable.
It was something I’d never been good at. Something I’d always admired about him. But right now, it was a quality I wished he didn’t possess. Because right now, as I watched him profess his feelings for this girl, my heart felt like it was cleaving in two.
She’ll say no, I told myself, and I watched Kiya for the signs I hoped for—disdain, irritation, aloofness. On her face, though, all I saw was an unexpected joy.
Kiya blushed and, with bafflement, glanced up at Daniel waving from the rooftop.
“Omigod.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “It was Daniel all along?” She looked at Georgette for affirmation, but Georgette only shrugged to show she didn’t have a clue about any of it.
Kiya looked back at Daniel, who cupped his hands around his mouth to holler down to her, “Yes or no?”
She laughed, then shrugged, and I saw it, plain as day, on her face. Regardless of whether or not she was in like with Daniel, in this moment, she was charmed by what he’d done for her. Still blushing, Kiya hollered back, “Yes! I’ll go with you!”
Whoops and cheers erupted from the kids on the lawn. Kiya cradled the balloon in her arms and chatted excitedly with Georgette, even as Principal Nyugen appeared on the roof to scold Daniel.
A split second of concern for Daniel flitted through me as I thought that, this time, maybe he’d gone too far. As Daniel talked with the principal, though, Ms. Nyugen’s face softened. Because who could punish someone for a harmless, well-intentioned disruption like this?
But then Daniel caught my eye, and something indefinable flitted across his face. Regret, maybe, or resignation? I didn’t know, but what I did know was that I couldn’t stay here another moment. Not with everyone around me talking about how romantic and sweet Daniel’s gesture was, or how they wished someone would do something like that for them.
It was too much to bear. I turned away and hurried through the crowd toward Main Street. I told myself I was crying over Interlochen. I told myself that the dull throbbing in my heart had nothing to do with Daniel and Kiya. Daniel and I weren’t friends anymore, so I shouldn’t care what he did with his life.
When Elle texted me a few minutes later to say she’d be waiting for me at the Snug Mug, and that we needed to talk about Daniel ASAP, I didn’t respond.
I wasn’t going to the Snug Mug. I didn’t want to see Daniel and Kiya together. I didn’t want to see anyone. All I wanted to do was go home.
In homeroom the next day, I gripped the sides of my desk, wondering if I could feign a fever to get out of school. I’d barely slept last night, my turmoil over canceling my Interlochen audition compounded by a vision of Daniel and Kiya slow-dancing at the formal.
Last night, when Dad had asked me if I was okay, I’d deflected his question, begging off of dinner and heading straight upstairs. I hadn’t said a single word about canceling my audition. I decided I would tell him on Thursday morning when he was ready to drive me to Burlington for the appointment. By then, it would be far too late for him to do anything to change my cancellation. Besides, I’d never change my mind anyway, no matter what anyone said.
Now my stomach cramped at the thought of Interlochen, and then double-cramped as Kiya and Georgette walked into homeroom gabbing about shopping for Fall Formal dresses.
I sighed, trying to tune them out. It was impossible, though. Kiya was right beside me, and I was torn between not wanting to hear and desperately needing to.
“Well, the fashion pickings are slim in Woodburn,” Georgette was saying, leaning toward Kiya with her phone held up. “I bought my dress weeks ago. Mom and I drove to Burlington to shop.”
Kiya looked admiringly at the dress on Georgette’s phone. “It’s gorgeous. I heard about a place in Rutland. Pret-A-Pretty?”
Georgette nodded. “They have cool stuff, but you’ll need to go ASAP, because everybody goes there for dresses. If you wait too long, there’ll be nothing left.” Georgette leaned in closer. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you’re going with Daniel. I thought you might give Graham another chance.”
Kiya wrinkled her nose. “No way. Graham is all Heather’s.” Then she whispered, “Honestly, it’s not that I’m into Daniel.”
I straightened in my seat, trying to pick up every one of Kiya’s barely audible words.
“He’s sweet and everything,” she continued, “and I’m so flattered by his secret admirer stuff. But, for me, he’s more the brotherly type than boyfriend material.”
“Then why go with him at all?” Georgette asked. “You could ask anyone in this school. They’d fall all over each other for a chance to go with you.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to go with any of them,” Kiya said. “I said yes to Daniel because I figured it would be nice, and maybe simpler, to go with a friend.”
“Does Daniel know that?” The words popped out of my mouth like rogue speech bubbles in a cartoon strip. I wanted to snatch them back as soon as I’d spoken them. But it was too late. Kiya gave me a sheepish look, as if she’d forgotten that I was sitting next to her and that Daniel and I were best friends. O
r, I corrected myself, that we used to be best friends.
“No,” Kiya said softly. “I didn’t think he needed to know right away. I can always tell him after the dance.”
“Oh right.” I stared at her. “So you get what you want, a guy on your arm at the dance, and then you break his heart when it’s convenient for you and you’re done using him.”
Kiya looked stricken. “I—I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” she stammered.
“Maybe you should.” My voice was clipped.
The bell rang, and Kiya and I both jumped at the sound. Ms. Bronski shushed us as the morning announcements started over the school’s intercom, but Georgette whispered a few final words to Kiya that I overheard clearly:
“Don’t worry about what Nadine said. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
Still, when I glanced at Kiya, I saw her expression creased in deeper embarrassment.
I squirmed. I was still angry at Daniel, but I didn’t want to see him used like a pawn in some flirting game, either. Maybe Kiya would rethink her decision to go with Daniel, but I couldn’t count on that. And letting Daniel go to the dance thinking that Kiya liked him when I knew the truth? That went beyond my frustration with him. That would be cruel.
When the bell rang, I hurried into the hallway and toward Elle’s locker. Somebody needed to break the news to Daniel about Kiya, and the sooner the better.
“Hello, stranger,” Elle declared upon seeing me waiting for her at her locker. “You don’t answer texts or phone calls. I try to make sure you’re okay and you stonewall me. And now I’m supposed to welcome you with open arms?” She mock-glared at me. “By all rights, I should be mad at you.”
“Please don’t be.” My voice must’ve sounded so miserable that it scared her, because she froze, doing a double take of my pained expression.
“Whoa. You do not look good.” She offered me a sympathetic smile. “Is this about Daniel and Kiya? Wait. Don’t answer that. Of course it’s about Daniel and Kiya.”
Pumpkin Spice Up Your Life Page 10
