I blush harder as my stomach tightens. I even lied poorly. This day has been a disaster from the moment the toothpaste hit my brush.

  “Play for me.” He flips open a wooden panel covering the keys of an ornate grand piano.

  My eyes travel along the beautiful row of black and white.

  “I don’t know how.” I swallow, wishing I did. If I could sit down and play something spectacular, it would make him stop treating me like a baby.

  “Here…I’ll show you,” he says, sliding onto the bench and moving to the far side to make room for me. When his pants rise above his ankles, I notice the color of his socks—gold and blue, just like his tie. I take the seat next to him and study his hands as his fingers stretch wide over the keys.

  “You go to a private school or something?” Or something…I sound so naïve.

  “I go to Richmond Prep.” Leaning his weight forward on his hands, he presses down firmly on several keys that somehow sound perfect together. I look from his fingers to mine, one at a time, trying to find keys that match that I can press on my own.

  “Oh. I go to Public Thirteen.” In concentration, I suck in my bottom lip until it disappears then press my own set of keys. My sound is off. I can tell instantly.

  “Here,” Henry says, adjusting two of my fingers and moving them over a key. His hands don’t feel rough like the boys at my school. I bet he doesn’t play football in the street or climb over walls like they do. He probably just sits in this room and does nothing but make fun of his fancy books and play this piano.

  I lean forward again, this time my sound matching his, only lower.

  “Ah!” I turn my head until my eyes meet his and I smile wide, showing most of my teeth.

  He laughs, so I start to curl my fingers. I stop when his hands cover mine.

  “No. Don’t…I was laughing because you seemed so excited. That’s all,” he says, half chuckling. I make a nervous sound that matches, but sounds nothing like his easy laugh at all.

  “I always wanted a piano,” I admit.

  Concentrating on my fingers again, I try to repeat the chord.

  “Elena used to play. She taught me a few things, but she doesn’t use this room much anymore. If your mom gets the job working for her, I’m sure she’d be all right with you coming over to practice.”

  I press the keys a few times, changing a finger placement here and there to see what the difference is. The sound isn’t always bad.

  “Who’s Elena?” I sneak in the question between a good note and a terrible one.

  Henry laughs the same way as before. I sit back and pull my hands into my lap this time.

  “She’s the one who let you in? The reason you’re here? She’s the CEO of Havisham Industrial, and she just lost her personal assistant. People have been interviewing all week. I hope your mom gets it, but honestly…she doesn’t really look like the kind of person Elena hires.”

  My head shakes automatically, trying to compute the information and keep up.

  “She’s not my mom,” I say, answering the easy bit first. Of course, next comes his questioning look.

  “Sister?” he asks.

  I should probably just say yes, or say aunt like I usually do. But for whatever reason, I give Henry the truth. “My parents died in an accident. Alice is like my cousin or something. We don’t have a big family. I…I live with them now—Alice and her husband, Collin.”

  I brace myself for a harsh response, similar to the one he gave me about hating books when I complimented this library.

  “I’m adopted. Elena…she adopted me when I was five from the Catholic Sisters of St. Agatha. I was the oldest one in their care. She saved me…so she likes to remind me constantly.”

  Henry shifts on his end of the bench; I do the same until our knees accidentally touch. My stomach dips with a falling sensation.

  “Sorry,” I say, quickly scooting back a few inches.

  I twist my lips and look around the room, now incredibly silent compared to a minute before when our hands were pounding on the piano.

  “You don’t call her Mom…” I say, finally filling the silent gap. I glance up at him, and he shrugs.

  “She’s just Elena. I guess that’s like Mom. I don’t know. Hey…you call your cousin or whatever by her name too. We’re the same!” Henry’s mouth finally curves on both sides equally, a real smile—like the one I made over playing my first chord.

  “We kinda are.” I smile back.

  His eyes are both a little brown and a little green, and a powder of freckles connects them from one cheek to the next. His teeth are super straight, not like mine that turn in on both sides. I bet he’ll never need braces. I’ll never get them because we can’t afford them.

  I try to hold his stare long enough to notice more things about him, but it starts to feel weird between us—almost warm and a bit like drowning without water.

  “Isn’t Havisham the soap company?” I see their commercials on TV all the time. They make everything that’s used to wash anything. Henry’s rich. I was right about that part.

  “Soap and paper, mostly.” His answer is short, and that strange, warm quiet begins to stuff my ears again.

  His attention slips back to the keys, but this time he barely strokes them, his fingers climbing closer to me one key at a time, pressing them in so softly the sound is essentially a piano’s whisper.

  “What’s your name?” His voice breaks at the end, and he covers it with a quick clearing of his throat. His eyebrows draw in to a pinch, too, but his hand continues to trail down the keys toward me.

  “Lily.” His fingers slow when I speak, and I part my lips to share more—Julienne Ames runs through my head but never leaves my mouth.

  “What do you think of the music room?” The woman’s voice behind me causes my shoulders to draw stiff. I instantly turn so my body is facing away from Henry and toward the piano again. I look to my left nervously as I stutter.

  “I…love it. I…it’s I mean. It’s a great room. Especially the piano. I…I have always wanted to learn to play.” My gaze catches on Alice’s face behind Elena, and she looks nearly ill. I’m guessing this first is also the last time I’ll ever touch a piano. There’s no way Alice got the job judging by her expression.

  “I think everyone should learn an instrument,” Elena says, waving her hand toward Henry. I feel his weight leave the bench. Elena moves closer and takes his spot. I bring my fisted hands to my thighs, tucking them under my legs and hoping nobody notices.

  Elena’s hands stretch out like Henry’s did, only she presses the keys softly at first, almost as if they’re alive and sleeping and she doesn’t want to wake them with her touch. Her hands move like they’re dancing, swaying up toward the high notes then back down to where I’m sitting. It’s almost like waves passing, and my mouth falls open at the way her hands cross over one another effortlessly.

  “Would you like to learn?”

  I sense her eyes on me before I turn to meet her gaze. Somehow, her hands are still moving, making perfect music without looking.

  “I would…very much.” Alice is going to kill me. Elena is probably going to offer lessons, and then explain how much they’ll cost. Alice is going to have to tell her no, right after telling me no, right after not getting the job she came here for in the first place.

  “Can you start on Monday?” The music continues as Elena’s chin tips up and her eyes move to Alice who is stalled in the doorway just beyond my shoulder.

  I twist and look Alice in the eyes, both of our pupils wide, confused looks on our faces.

  “I suppose…yes…I would love to.” My guardian swallows loud enough I hear it over the melody Elena is creating. Her hands finally stop and she brings them into her lap. There’s something about everything she just did that felt professional—rich.

  I’m not sure how long she was studying me, but when I finally lift my eyes to Elena’s face, I get the feeling that it was for several seconds.

  “You can come here after school, or when you don’t have school. Henry will be doing homework at that time, and the music won’t bother him. It gives you three hours a day. That’s perfect.”

  The time that passes feels short, maybe only a breath, but my answer didn’t come fast enough for Alice, who steps closer to me and holds me still where I sit, her hands on each of my shoulders.

  “Thank Mrs. Alderman for her offer.” My eyes crinkle because I was about to, and I hate that now it looks like I was just told. So insincere.

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” I catch Henry’s stifled laughter behind Elena, and I instantly know Ma’am was the wrong word.

  “Oh…ha ha ha.” Elena stands from the piano as she pushes out forced laughter. She pauses with the wooden cover propped up with her fingers, nails longer than I’ve ever seen someone grow them. It takes me a moment to realize she’s waiting for me to step away from the piano. She’s putting it away.

  “Sorry, ma…” I stop myself.

  “You can call me Elena. Ma’am…” She waves her hand in the air between us. “It sounds so old. And I’m not married, which Miss would always remind me of, so Elena is what I prefer. You can both call me that.”

  She looks over my shoulder to Alice, who had just called her Mrs.

  “Elena. Okay,” I nod. “Thank you, Elena.”

  I repeat her name just to force it into habit. At the feel of Alice’s hand on my arm, I turn into her and move a few steps away from the piano. I hold my hands in front of my body, my right clinging to my left. I can feel my pulse in my fingertips.

  “You’ll want to wear comfortable shoes, good for walking, but not sneakers. And your dress should be…” Elena’s eyes scan down Alice’s body. “Nice dress pants and blouses work well. You’ll be driving a lot, and taking some of my appointments. I’d like you to look like my brand.”

  Beyond her, Henry mouths the word brand and lifts his mouth on one side. I pull my lips in tight to hold in my laugh.

  “I can do that. I’ll be here bright and early…” Alice starts, but Elena interrupts.

  “Seven. There is no need before seven. But no later.”

  “Seven,” Alice repeats.

  I’ve gotten used to getting myself up for school, and I know that seven is going to be hard for Alice. She’s not an early riser. Her last job was in the evening. I should probably get as much time in with the piano as I can before she gets fired for being late.

  “Thank you…again. I’m very excited to begin,” Alice says, her palm stretched forward. Elena takes it but her eyes move to me.

  “As am I. And please, be sure that your daughter comes along…”

  “She’s not my…”

  Elena corrects herself before Alice can, holding up her hand and ending their shake. She shakes her head quickly and blinks her eyes several times, which is the first time I notice the thick black that coats her lashes and shades her almost teal-blue eyes.

  “My mistake. Your niece…be sure she comes.”

  Niece. I see Alice went with the easy lie. I should have, too, but I’m strangely glad that Henry knows the truth; especially if I’m going to see him again.

  I hold my open palm up with my fingers stretched to say goodbye to him as Alice tugs at the shoulder of my sleeve for me to follow her from the room. The brightness and humor that was on his face seconds ago has disappeared, and his only response is to shove both of his hands into the pockets of his tan pants.

  My stomach fills with sand, weighing me down as I follow Alice out the door of the room first, then the home second. The steps outside seem grander now, and I swear they multiplied. We aren’t in a rush like we were on the way in, so I glance to my right and left to see what flowers I must be smelling. They look like tulips and maybe rows of lavender. Bees flit from bloom to bloom, and perfectly trimmed grass swerves around newly washed bricks, forming a path back to the gate we came in through. We wait at it until we hear it buzz, and Alice pushes it open. I step through behind her and turn to look over my shoulder at the grand brownstone that I somehow get to come back to in a few short days.

  I walk backward, secretly hoping the door will pop open once again and Henry will wave goodbye…and smile. It remains closed though, and that heavy feeling of sand in my gut returns.

  CHAPTER 2

  Alice picked my outfit before I left for school today, so I’m stuck wearing a sweater that makes my armpits itch and sweat. I’ve spent most of the day tugging it away from my chest in short bursts to create a breeze. It hasn’t done much good.

  She stuffed my Metra card in the deepest pocket of my backpack, worried I’d lose it or someone would steal it. I’ve lost two at this junior high in seven months. This girl Everly says some of the other girls trade the cards for drugs, but I think they just like the rush of stealing something. I bet they use it once then throw it away.

  Besides, a thirty-dollar Metra card wouldn’t buy much on the street. My dad was a drug counselor, so I know more than I should about these things. I’ll never use, though—I’ve literally seen what the bottom looks like and I don’t think I’d survive it.

  The hidden Metra card and awful sweater are doing quite the job on me right now. I need to swipe it to make the train, but I can’t reach it underneath all of my books, and the panic is making me sweat.

  Finally giving up, I dump my bag upside down right on the other side of my turnstile and yelp with joy the minute the bright pink card flashes and draws my eyes.

  I begin to scoop my things back into my bag when a group of boys walk by and jump over the bars next to me, one of them stopping just long enough to kick my algebra book through the gate and nearly over the edge into the tracks. The pages fly open and my homework, already done and folded, ready to be turned in, tumbles into the dark pit below just as the train rushes into the station.

  “Hey!” I shout, fumbling with my card and my barely together backpack, still unzipped in my arms. I’m holding my things together like a poorly made taco, and a woman next to me stops to help me swipe my card and make it through the gate.

  “Are you all alone?” Her eyes are narrowed with concern, and for whatever reason I lie.

  “No…no.” With a deep breath I pull myself together…ish, and roll my shoulders back as I smile. “My friend is on the train. She’s saving our seats. Thank you though.”

  “All right.” The woman smiles, leaving satisfied. I wait a beat before walking toward the back of the train, several cars away from her—to the car that the assholes went into after they amused themselves with me.

  Plopping down near the door, I turn myself so I can keep my eyes on them, my taco bag still hugged to my chest. Two of them are standing, the other two sitting, and they’re flicking a lighter off and on against one of the pole grips. After a few seconds, they move on to trash they find near empty seats, burning up pieces and letting them fall to their feet so they can stomp them out and stain the floor.

  I glare the entire time, just waiting for one of them to look my direction and feel a glimmer of guilt. They get off three stops later, never noticing me.

  Left unsatisfied, I carry my mood all the way to my stop, thirty minutes later, and by the time I get to the Alderman gate, I boldly push the button and march toward the front door. Alice is waiting for me just inside, and she slips out to meet me at the steps.

  “You look awful. And why are you scowling? Lily…this is important. If you didn’t want to come here, you never should have said so when Elena invited you during my interview.” Alice brushes away a loose string from the shoulder of my sweater and tugs it near the collar to straighten it. I hate this sweater. I’m just glad I got out of the house in jeans instead of the khaki slacks Alice was trying to get me to wear. I think she was trying to make me look like I went to a fancy private school too. I don’t, though. I go to a school where a boy was locked in the bathroom today for being gay, and where someone cut away the chains on the swings before the year started. A thousand kids ages five to thirteen all cram into two rows of classrooms. It is not the kind of place one wears khakis.

  “I want to be here. The train was just…”

  Alice has already moved on, uninterested in anything more than getting me inside so she can keep her job. We haven’t talked about it, but we both know that Elena liked me more than her and that’s why she got the job.

  I follow her inside, closing the door behind me when she glances over her shoulder and lifts a brow. I double up my steps to catch up to her. She slows down just outside the music room.

  “So what kinds of things are you doing for her?” I whisper.

  Alice bunches her lip in thought and looks to our sides.

  “Random things. It’s really weird. I brought her a bunch of boxes of old photos this morning, and she spent an hour sitting at the dining table and moving them around, like she was organizing them. She sent me out for lunch at noon, and by the time I came back the photos were all packed away again in the boxes, and she had me put them back on the highest shelf in her bedroom closet.”

  “That is weird, I guess,” I say, wondering if Elena was looking for one photo in particular or if she just wanted to revisit her past. “Maybe she’s making a slideshow for something, or a history book for the company.”

  Alice shrugs.

  “I don’t know, but if she’s going to pay me thirty-five bucks an hour to help her sort her closet one box at a time, I’m game. This beats washing dishes.”

  “What if she makes you wash dishes?” I joke.

  Alice smirks and jerks with a silent laugh.

  “For thirty-five bucks an hour, I’ll wash her dishes. Besides…no way she doesn’t have one of those fancy dishwashers that basically does everything but put them away.”

  “True,” I agree.

  Sliding the doors open, I bring the piano into view and move toward it instantly. I’ve been dying to touch the keys again ever since we left last week. It’s even more beautiful than I remember, the wood a deep mahogany and a spotless silver rod holding up the top that covers the strings. I kinda want to find Henry so I can ask him to push in the keys and let me watch the strings.