Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 18: Emma

I curl my fingers around the handle of my clarinet case, but it feels slick in my hands. My palms are too hot, my face too flushed, and stress sweat is quickly accumulating under my arms. How do normal people get through this without panicking? How does everyone else do this?

Pressing my eyes shut, I force myself to take a deep breath. It steadies me a bit, but my head has that familiar ache, and I know another migraine is coming. Instead of heading straight into band, I turn back down the hall and detour to my locker, grabbing a few ibuprofen before I head in to play against Georgia. I gulp down water at the fountain, and when my stomach feels like it's about to burst, I finally step into the band room, holding my head up high.

Somehow, Georgia looks poised. Her make up is on point, with light eyeliner and a smoky shadow. Her skin is flawless, as usual, and she is calm and collected. I'm so angry at the sight of her that my hands start to shake. Her lips contort into a forced smile when she sees me. "Happy Monday, Emma."

"Mondays are never happy," I growl under my breath, but nod to her to keep things cordial. I take my seat in the first chair, and this rush of emotions flows through me. I feel like this will be the last time I'm sitting in this seat.

I open my case with a click of the metal and take each part of my clarinet out piece by piece. The velvet lining of the case brushes against my fingers. Familiar smells calm me, from the oil on each piece of the cork to the woody scent of the reed. This is everything I want in my life. I twist the parts into place and run my fingers over the keys, waiting for my teacher to start the class.

Mrs. Warren comes in five minutes late, and by then my heart is already beating out of my chest. Just forty minutes until Georgia and I go head to head. I spent all weekend working on the piece. Well, except for the time spent on my chemistry lab, which I also am not finished with. And the time spent out with Carter.

I force a thick swallow and wonder if I should have practiced more. What if I'm not ready? What if Georgia is flawless today just like her stupid skin is? What if she nails it, and I fail miserably? What if I lose the one thing that might give me an edge when I apply for schools?

Mrs. Warren wastes no time starting class. We run through drills, and my fingers flutter a little too much. I'm shaking and unsteady. I'm not holding down the tones. Before even starting my challenge, I feel like a failure. My notes are sour. My pacing is off. I'm a beat too late or early, twisting what should sound like music into an eerie haunted house rendition of each song. Mrs. Warren notices it too.

"Let's take a five minute break before we start the challenge, okay? Those who are not participating in a challenge can pack up early." Mrs. Warren claps once, dismissing the rest of the class.

Georgia places her clarinet down on the seat and stretches tall. "I'm going to the bathroom, if that's all right?"

I note how she asks after she states what she's planning to do. Mrs. Warren gives her a pass. Once Georgia is out of earshot, my teacher looks at me. "Okay, Emma, what's wrong?"

Tears well up inside my head and choke my throat, but I swallow them all back. This is nerves, only nerves, and I can get through this. I've dealt with worse, and most people around me have bigger problems than I do. I can handle this.

"I'm dealing with a lot right now."

"Is that why you wanted to push the challenge back?"

I nod.

"I was hoping the weekend would give you some extra time to prepare, but I take it something else got your attention?" She arches an eyebrow, and I swear she somehow knows about my date with Carter.