by Sarah Biglow
Muse Song
Sarah Biglow
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Also By Sarah Biglow
About the Author
Untitled
MUSE SONG Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Biglow.
* * *
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
For information contact; www.sarah-biglow.com
Edited by Melinda Fulton
Copyedited by: Ken Darrow, M.A.
Cover Design by: Deranged Doctor Design
* * *
ISBN: 978-1540345523
* * *
Published by Sarah Biglow: 2017
* * *
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
1
The end of period bell blared and I got swept up in the flood of students heading for sixth period. Most of them managed to keep their distance but a few made an effort to glare at me so I’d notice. I’d become the pariah of the sophomore class at Pierce McArthur High. I used to be normal and had lots of friends in middle school. Then, when puberty hit in freshman year, the outbursts started and my friends list dwindled to practically zero. Now, it seemed, I couldn’t go a day without someone around me bursting into song or writing love poems instead of doing science labs or algebra problems.
It didn’t happen to everyone but the ones who got into trouble for it blamed me for making them act out, saying I encouraged them, which wasn’t true. I didn’t talk to people—just another perk of being the least-liked kid in school—but sometimes I noticed something about them, a spark of potential, and I gravitated toward them. It didn’t make any sense and every time it happened I felt a little more of my sanity slipping away; but it just kept happening. On top of my continuing spiral into the land of crazy, most of the teachers reveled in sending my sorry ass to detention for disrupting class for humming. It’s still a mystery to me why a habit I’ve had my entire life was suddenly a huge deal.
A lump of fear in my throat choked me as I shuffled toward my afternoon classes. The knowledge that even if something happened in Classic American Literature Mr. McManus wouldn’t throw me out should have loosened the lump but it wasn’t his class that twisted my stomach into knots. Algebra with Ms. Eisner terrified me because it was notorious for outbursts. Ducking past the girls’ bathroom I was almost to my destination when half of the varsity football team spilled into the hallway from a nearby classroom and blocked my path. Squeezing through wasn’t an option so I tapped one of the guys on the shoulder. “Excuse me.” I motioned to the open hallway beyond their tight huddle.
Kevin Marcum, team captain, glared down at me. Our gazes met for a second and it happened. That spark ignited in his eyes and I couldn’t stop myself. A soft melody buzzed past my lips and I pressed my fingers to his beefy upper arm. His expression went blank, eyes glazed over and, instead of continuing to plot whatever prank they’d been discussing, he recited a rhyming couplet love poem about Anthony Allison, the team’s star wide receiver. Warmth prickled along every nerve ending in my body. It’s hard to explain but, for an instant, Kevin’s emotions—the piece of him that could fill the world with beautiful imagery—filled me up and happy tears pricked the back of my eyes. In the space between one breath and the next the happiness coursing through me turned to icy dread and settled in my stomach like a glacier. Reality came crashing back while the rest of the football team snickered at Kevin’s declaration and then all eyes turned to me.
Not again!
Kevin blinked twice and the zoned-out look disappeared, replaced by confusion as his teammates continued to snicker. A painful ringing filled my ears and black spots danced across my vision. I gasped for air as I back pedaled away before he realized what had happened and the rest of the team decided I would make a nice locker ornament. I barreled through the girls’ bathroom door and barricaded myself in the first empty stall I could find, crumpling into a heap atop the toilet seat. The tears that had only a second ago been happy turned bitter and ran down my cheeks. I didn’t bother trying to hold them back. Loud sobs echoed in the tiny stall around me.
I can’t take this anymore.
I was vaguely aware of other people coming and going but no one stopped to see if I was okay. I was losing my mind and no one noticed. All they ever saw was the weird girl who was always getting people into trouble. I didn’t ask for this. Couldn’t they understand that?
My tear ducts ran dry a minute or two later and I scrubbed at my face to hide the evidence of my breakdown. Mr. McManus wouldn’t kick me out of class but he had rules to uphold about tardiness. So, taking a shaky breath, I gathered my bag from the floor and inched my way back into the hallway. Mercifully, the football team had moved on.
With quick steps I took off down the hall, slinking into Mr. McManus’s classroom without acknowledging anyone around me. Hunching my shoulders, I slid down in my seat as low as possible to pretend I didn’t exist. If I didn’t exist then no one would see how close I was to really losing it. My invisibility lasted all of five seconds before Liam Sullivan-Gray entered the room. Liam was a transfer student this year and so he didn’t know the extent of my reputation. He settled in two desks over and, as he set his backpack down, he smiled in my direction. Wiping the sweat from my palms on my jeans, I turned back to the front of the room. To say I liked Liam a lot would be an understatement. He was my dream boyfriend; sweet, funny and he had the most adorable smile. I could spend forever running my hands through his tussled, sandy hair and getting lost in his beautiful green eyes. It didn’t hurt that he treated me like a human being. The bell rang. Mr. McManus stood up from his desk and dragged me out of my daydream. "Everybody, quiet down please. We're going to continue our work on To Kill a Mockingbird."
I barely suppressed a groan along with half the class. It was not one of my favorite books, though it was marginally better than the lessons we spent on Lord of the Flies. I shivered at the memories of the nightmares plagued with decapitated pig heads on spikes chasing me through a forest. Mr. McManus was pretty cool for a teacher but he’d scarred me for life.
"I want you to get into pairs and analyze Atticus's motives for defending Tom. Think about the way the characters are portrayed and the time period of the novel."
I stayed put, ready for the ritual of being forced on a group when no one picked me. I jumped out of my skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Turning to see Liam standing there, well within my personal bubble, sent my
heart beating an erratic rhythm against my ribs. Swallowing the golf-ball sized lump in my throat, I attempted to speak. "Um..." What did he want? He couldn’t really want to work together on this.
"You don't have a partner yet, do you?" His accent made my cheeks warm. It carried just a hint of England. Cute and foreign.
I stared at him for a minute in silence before I shook my head. "No."
"Can I work with you?"
Pulse thrumming painfully in my neck, I swallowed again. "Okay."
He dragged his desk over and sat down beside me, pulling out his book and a notebook. I followed suit and stared at the handwritten instructions on the board. Turning just enough to look him in the face, I propped my chin in one hand. "So ... what do you think?"
He tapped his pen against his chin a couple times and stared at the board. I tried—and failed—not to ogle his profile as he mulled over the question. “I think he did it because he wanted to be famous. I mean everyone in town knew it was this controversial case and what better way to get noticed than to be the one defending the guy everyone thinks is guilty?”
I nodded mutely while he jotted down notes about what he’d just said in his neat handwriting. Liam set his pen down and turned back to me. “What about you? Why’d he do it?” For fear of coming off as lame, I said, “I think Atticus was a good guy and he genuinely believed Tom was innocent. Sure, it would be nice for him to get recognition in this big trial but he believed in the goodness of people so he wouldn’t be in it for the fame. He put up with all the people showing up at his house and threatening his family.”
Liam put pen to paper again before looking back at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I couldn’t stop my lips from spreading into a goofy grin at the attention. He smiled back but ducked his head like he was embarrassed I’d caught him staring. I’d never had Liam all to myself like this before and the assignment soon lost my interest. We’d answered Mr. McManus’s question anyway. Liam closed his notebook and stuck the cap back on his pen. “Can I ask you something?”
I tried to act cool even though every tiny hair on my arms and neck stood on end and my stomach sloshed with nerves. “Yeah. Of course.”
Liam hesitated and then, “I was wondering if you’d want to study for finals with me. It’s just we’re in some of the same classes and sometimes stuff makes more sense with two people.”
Hot tears—definitely the happy kind—stung the backs of my eyes. I tried to speak but once again words failed me. I turned away, took a deep breath and licked my lips. “I’d like that.”
“Great. I’ll message you on Facebook tonight and we can set it up.”
Mr. McManus waved his hands to get everyone’s attention. "Okay, everyone. We'll discuss your answers next class."
I shoved my books back into my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. Liam scooted his desk back to its original spot and retrieved his own backpack. He waved. "See you in algebra."
I waved back and I’m pretty sure I grinned like a maniac but who cared? Liam Sullivan-Gray had asked to work with me and wanted to be study partners. Maybe he’d even flirted a little. If that wasn’t a sign that we would be together one day, I didn’t know what was. The Kevin Marcum incident seemed a little less dire as I headed for the door.
"Abbie, do you have a second?” Mr. McManus called.
I pivoted to face him. "Yeah."
"I just wanted to see how things were going. I know it's been a hard year for you."
I shrugged one shoulder. "Okay, I guess."
He smiled. "Don't let the kids get to you. Keep your head up and just be yourself.”
"Okay. Thanks.” Shifting my bag to the other shoulder, I nodded at the clock above the door. “I should get going. I don't want to be late for class."
While making the switch from English to algebra textbooks, my stomach tied itself into painful, nausea-inducing knots and I rested my forehead against my locker. Too bad skipping out on class wasn’t an option. I’d be in more trouble than usual. So, with reluctant steps, I passed the few stragglers in the hallway and slipped into the room just after the bell rang. Late again.
Gripping my textbook close to my chest, I tried to make a beeline to the back of the classroom—my preferred spot because it was harder to make eye contact with everyone else—before Ms. Eisner finished taking attendance. She didn’t even look up from her roster. "I saw that, Miss Rollands."
"Sorry, Ms. Eisner. I had—"
"I don't need to hear your excuse of the day."
The sound of snickering carried across the room and the tips of my ears warmed in embarrassment. I should have been used to the laughing by now but it still stung. Sinking lower into my seat, I waited for the lesson to start. I fished the day's homework from the middle of my book while Ms. Eisner stood up at the front of the room and lectured in her trademark dull monotone. Did she ever wonder if people acted out in her class because it was so damn boring? Not that math had to be the most exhilarating subject in the world but who wanted to learn algebra when the teacher made it sound like reciting the death toll of the Second World War?
I doodled on the top of today’s homework out of boredom until the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I glanced to my right and met Liam’s gaze. His lips quirked into a half smile but he said nothing. The cynical part of me feared that what I’d interpreted as flirting was a prank encouraged by other students. But there wasn’t a mean bone in Liam’s body and he ignored the outbursts, which was impressive given how often I spent time in the principal’s office. I brushed a few stray pieces of hair out of my face and mouthed, “What?”
Liam looked surprised that I’d called him out and turned away without acknowledging I’d said anything. I could handle the cold shoulders from the majority of the student body, even if it did reinforce my fear that I was going nuts, but being ogled by the boy who made me melt into a puddle of nonverbal goo and my heart beat like a drummer on crack in his very presence was unnerving. I turned back to my homework and rubbed my eraser over the doodle. Ms. Eisner continued to drone on at the front of the class and I started to tap my pencil against the desk. Peter Morgan—one of my many tormentors—turned in his seat. “Shh.” He didn’t have time to turn around before I caught the spark. The potential swirling deep inside him sang the siren call only I could hear. There was no stifling the tune coming from my lips and I couldn’t have stopped myself from touching his shoulder if I’d wanted to. Peter turned around and raised his hand in the air. "Ms. Eisner, I'll do the next problem."
Ms. Eisner didn’t seem surprised by Peter’s sudden interest in demonstrating the proper way to factor polynomials. I knew that math problem wasn’t going to be solved the moment he walked up to the board and that knowledge turned my veins to ice even as his joy tried to fill me up from head to toe. Peter picked up the chalk and scrawled a sappy love poem about Shelley Kendall on the board. The classroom erupted in laughter. Peter’s face turned beet red and he hastily tried to erase his embarrassment. "She did it!" He pointed a quivering, chalk-covered finger in my direction.
"I did not!"
Peter inched closer to the first row of desks. "Liar! You told me to do it. I felt your hand on my shoulder. You're just a freak and an attention whore."
"I told you I didn't even talk to you." I held my head high to meet his gaze.
“She said she didn’t do anything to you so just leave her alone.” Liam rose out of his seat.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. It was one thing to be study buddies or work on a class assignment but now he was defending me like Peter’s words hurt him as much as they did me. A couple of girls sitting two rows away gasped and covered their mouths with their hands. They hadn’t expected Liam’s sudden heroic outburst. Apparently, neither had Ms. Eisner, the teacher’s skin lost all color and her lips pressed into a thin line. I’d really messed up this time. Ms. Eisner's hand slid toward the panic button beside the chalkboard. This wasn't going to happen again. Ignoring the surprised looks, I grabbed my bo
oks and headed for the doorway. I paused long enough to hear Ms. Eisner speaking frantically with the secretary in the front office. "Yes, Abigail Rollands. I want her out of my classroom."
I managed to storm out of view of the rest of the class before I slid down into a crouch around the corner, squeezing my eyes shut to ward off tears ready to fall. I hoped Liam didn’t get into trouble for coming to my defense. I rubbed at my eyes and looked around the hallway, suddenly struck by the fact that Mr. McManus’s classroom was right across the hall. How the hell had I missed that for the entire year? Thinking about Mr. McManus made me smile in spite of the trouble I was no doubt in. He was the best teacher I’d had since middle school. He made me feel less like a freak and he encouraged creativity. The seconds ticked by and I watched a boy about half a foot taller than me leave Mr. McManus’s room and head toward the boys’ bathroom. He didn’t even notice me wallowing in self-pity. Before the door swung shut I caught sight of the life-size poster of Athena—Greek Goddess of Wisdom—adorning the wall. I didn’t know much about Greek mythology beyond what I’d learned from that Disney movie about Hercules but I always felt connected to the authors of books when Mr. McManus talked about how they got their inspiration. My musings about Athena were cut short by a loud blare over the PA system.
“Abigail Rollands, report to the principal’s office immediately.”