Lost Girls (Book One in the Academy Series)

Ambushed by the Head

The first time Sheila disappeared, I almost didn't say anything. I was the one with the reputation. I was the one who bore watching.

This is what I think about while striding across campus on a sunny Saturday afternoon. My plaid pajamas are stuffed into faded blue FUGGS, my top concealed under a wool hoodie, my bed head managed by a floppy cap.

I'm disorientated and edgy but I've stayed indoors long enough.

I've almost reached my goal when Mr. Collins crosses the street.

I take a deep breath, hoping he doesn't see me. He's a legend, a man who was in his twenties when he founded a music school in the middle of nowhere and made it a destination. Today former Academy kids play with major symphonies. A few compose film scores. I know of at least one who became a pop star. A few years ago, the school added an arts component, guaranteeing that even more grads would go on to selective Northeastern colleges.

Collins stops and considers me. He always seems focused on my failures and not my potential.

"Hello, Ms. Barnes. I'm glad I caught you."

"Caught" is the perfect word for what I'm feeling. The sun is bright behind me and he's squinting. My sunglasses feel rude but I leave them on. Through smoky lenses, I silently observe. The quiet festers.

There's a spray of lines around his eyes, but his forehead is so tight and smooth it reminds me of my mother's friends. His clenched jaw emphasizes his cheekbones. Glancing down, I see muscles beneath thin cashmere, the sweater's pale blue probably selected by someone who promised it would bring out his eyes.

I've overheard a few girls crushing on him. Pretty gross, considering he's probably old enough to be their grandfather. Then again, it's hard to get gushy over someone who regrets admitting me.

"What's up?"

"I was wondering if you've seen Sheila this morning?"

My face goes hot. Getting caught in a lie would be the perfect way to piss all over my second shot at the Conservatory. "No, but I think she had an early private."

"Ahhh... Well, I'll head over to Music and see if Mr. Keifer has seen her. I trust you'll be working there later?"

"Absolutely." Although my cello teacher is head of the department, I doubt he knows any more about my missing roommate than I do.