Ryder

fourteen

When calling Brooke and getting her to answer me failed, I called her Dad (an emergency number that she'd given me months ago if I somehow wasn't able to reach her). Her father picked up thankfully on my very first try and when I asked him about Brooke, and if she was there with him, he was kind enough to tell me that she was there. Staying at her parents' house. I asked him if I could talk to her because I really was desperate by then.

But he didn't let me.

"She's a little under the weather, Alice." He'd sounded weary and maybe even a little sad. I remembered Brooke's dad being a lively man with a smile that lit up the room when he'd visited the campus once. He didn't sound like he was smiling right then. "She's refusing to talk to anyone, but I'll...I'll try to get her to call you, all right? Don't worry. She'll come around."

I tried to tell myself Brooke's dad was right and I also hoped she'd feel better soon. Maybe she really was just ill and cranky and wanted the comfort of home. She'll come around. She'll have to. What had I done that she was refusing to talk to me?

"Alice."

I blinked, startled, and looked over at Nico who was glaring at me.

"Sorry, what?"

He inhaled dramatically and gave an apologetic look to the person standing on my other side. Someone, who I noticed almost instantly, was Professor McAdams himself.

It was Sunday afternoon and we were currently in the campus theater; the scheduled meeting for the volunteers had ended just seconds ago. Or maybe they had been minutes. I could hear faint chatter from the stage ahead where everyone else was. Nico and I, and Professor McAdams were in the props room.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out, eyes widening. "I was a little distracted. What was the question again?"

Professor McAdams smiled politely. "That's quite all right, Alice. I was just splitting every one of you into pairs and assigning a separate task to each one so that we can cover all the arrangements quickly enough?"

I did notice that he ended it off as a question even though it wasn't really one. Almost as if he didn't have the heart to prove me wrong on the what was the question again part.

"Oh. Okay." I nodded, stuffing my hands inside my hoodie pockets. "That's a great idea."

Nico gave me a look.

A long beat of silence passed by before Professor McAdams broke into a chuckle. Nico looked like he wanted to die.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled sheepishly. My face was on fire. "What am I supposed to say? I'm sorry, I really had zoned out."

Professor McAdams patted my shoulder reassuringly and waved his other hand in the direction of the handful of earlier props. My eyes darted to a lone violin sitting on one of the chairs and I instantly grew alarmed. He wouldn't say anything about the violins in front of Nico, would he? Except that there really wasn't anything to say. Professor McAdams had seen me once--once--in the music room, touching one of his students' violins. He didn't know enough to say anything about it.

"One of the simple back walls perhaps? How about you look through all the different color contrasts Bill has spread out right over there and then let me know the final verdict?" He was gesturing towards the paint buckets.

I felt the tension leaving my shoulders. Nico shrugged. "Sure. Though I did want to talk about the volunteering days, if they can be adjusted?"

Professor McAdams and Nico busied themselves in another conversation and even though I didn't mean to, I still tuned them out once more. I'd like to blame it all on my lack of sleep in the past few days. I was truly exhausted.