It was like falling off the high dive in slow motion.
“What?” I jerked my head to look at Mira.
She put her mask up to her eyes and peered at me through the glittery slits. “Don’t you remember?”
I wanted to yank the mask out of her hand and hit her over the head with it. But I just shook my head as a terrible kind of dread filled me. I pointed toward my ear. “Brain injury, remember?”
“Oh, right, that.” Mira dropped the mask. “We were all standing around talking to Jazzy and Ollie. You walked up with Laurel Simmons and right when Ivy turned around you ralphed all over the front of her beautiful dress. Then you passed out.”
This was a new kind of humiliation. I wanted to sink low in my seat and cover my head. I’d puked all over Ivy at the Homecoming Dance? Why hadn’t anyone told me? I’d embarrassed myself before, but total humiliation over something I didn’t even remember doing was new.
“Did she at least get to enjoy the dance?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I hadn’t been at the dance very long before I’d been taken to the hospital.
“Nope.” Mira shook her head with annoying matter-of-factness. “She didn’t get to dance or even get her picture taken in front of the Eiffel Tower. And she loves Paris—” she cocked her head at me— “did you know that? She was so excited about that miniature Eiffel Tower. It’s her dream to go there one day. Well—” she flopped a hand to the side— “it’s both of our dreams but I figure Ivy will be the one to get there. That girl knows what she wants.”
The musicians were beginning to warm up, with their see-sawing squeaky sounds as they tuned their instruments. I watched Brandon Chang tune his cello, immaculate and confident in his tux. I imagined what Ivy must have looked like at the dance. So beautiful that Brandon fell in love with her, even though he was with another date. That was, until I puked on her. God—no wonder she didn’t like me. But I didn’t think she liked Brandon that much either—or she wouldn’t have kissed me back that day.
I opened and closed my right hand against the side of my leg, working the muscles, but also to let out some of my nervous energy. I had decided I was going to ask Ivy to break up with Brandon and go out with me.
THE CONCERT STARTED right at the dot of seven-thirty. I enjoyed the music more than I would have expected. I guess all those years of listening to my sister play had developed some appreciation for the symphony against my will. A little more than halfway through, they took an intermission. Several of the musicians got up and readjusted the brown folding chairs as others rolled out a black baby grand piano. They positioned it right in the center of the stage and an odd nervousness quirked my heart. It was the same feeling I got just before a game.
The conductor took center stage and faced the audience. The crowd quieted down to total silence as he spoke. “And now, it is my special pleasure to introduce an exceptionally gifted student. One who not only excels at the violin but also is, in my humble opinion, a virtuoso pianist. Please welcome Miss Ivy Ly.” He swept his arm out.
The crowd was very appreciative as Ivy entered the hall from a side door. She was wearing a black glittery dress that hugged her slim figure in all the right spots. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face and pinned to the crown of her head, falling in a cascade of curls down her back. An odd kind of pride filled me. To say she looked beautiful seemed inadequate. She was a star.
She didn’t look at the audience as she took her place at the piano. I saw her nod at Brandon as she went past. I figured the look on his face wasn’t so different than the one on mine. That he got to know and share this side of Ivy and I didn’t made my stomach clench.
Mira grabbed my fingers and squeezed. “Here we go,” she whispered. She didn’t let go, leaving her hand clutching my fingers. I looked down at our entwined hands, feeling claustrophobic. I smiled at her as I freed my hand. Not sure where to put it where she wouldn’t grab my fingers again, I stretched my arm out along the back of her seat. That felt better. I ignored it when Mira shifted in her seat so she could lean her head against my arm.
Ivy ran her fingers over the keys and the orchestra immediately sat at attention, their arms cocked above their instruments, waiting. She was the quarterback, making the call to the rest of the team. A new sense of respect filled me.
She didn’t have music—she played entirely from memory. Her hands flew in complete mastery of the keyboard. I watched in awe. The pieces she played for me in fifth period didn’t begin to touch the complexity of what she played tonight. The orchestra created background tension as the music moved from tender to frenzied to haunted. She played the piano like I’d never heard it played before. It wasn’t notes that flooded the room where we sat—it was emotions.
When she finished, the final notes fluttered in the room like a beating heart, until I swear my heart beat with the same rhythm.
She lifted her fingers from the keyboard and an awed silence filled the room. Capped by thunderous applause.
Then she stood up and bowed.
The entire audience jumped to their feet in a standing ovation. I’d never experienced such a rush of pride in someone else’s talent before.
I put my fingers to my lips and let out a piercing whistle of appreciation. Her head turned and she looked straight at me. Even from that distance I could see the surprise on her face as she recognized me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ivy
I was shocked to see Q standing in the audience at the concert. He was hard to miss—all 6’ 3 of him, standing up, whistling and clapping like I’d just intercepted the ball or whatever was important in football. Of course Mira brought him, but she hadn’t given me a clue that she’d been planning anything.
My mother and father stood nearby as lots of people congratulated me after the performance. But Q’s tall figure, hovering on one side of the room, pulled at me like a magnet. Finally, it was their turn. Mira squealed and hugged me.
“Wow, look at you,” I said, taking in her zebra-awesomeness. “That’s a new outfit.”
“I know,” she said, holding up her mask and peering at me through the eye-slits. “I’ve been saving it for this special occasion.” Then she turned and looped her arm through Q’s like he was her boyfriend. “Look who I brought with me!”
It was like a needle pierced the happy bubble around my heart as it suddenly all became clear. Mira brought Q because she wanted to go on a date with him, nothing more or less. She hadn’t brought him to see me. Who knew why he came.
“And we match!” Mira chirped. “He’s the male version of a zebra in his black and white.” She waved her hand up and down in Q’s direction. “You know, the understated version.”
I’m not sure Q knew he was dressed like the male version of a zebra. He looked slightly ill at Mira’s announcement, which made me smile. But aside from that, he looked very handsome, like normal. I’d never seen him in a tie before. He wore it well—with confidence— like he was used to attending the symphony or something.
“Whatever, Mira,” Q said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna touch that.” He handed me a bouquet of long-stem red roses I hadn’t noticed him holding. His face sobered. He looked very sincere. “You were amazing, Ivy.”
“Thank you.” I said as I took the flowers, which were long-stemmed and the deepest velvet red. “There are beautiful. And thanks for coming. That was a surprise.” I bent to smell the roses and noticed that tucked among the stems were several strands of plumeria. Where had he found plumeria in Washington State in December? Startled, I looked up at him. “More surprises?”
His eyes were intent upon me. “I love plumeria.” He said it so softly that at first I thought I’d imagined it. My heart dropped into my stomach before it zinged around like the ball in a pinball machine.
My lips curved. “Me too.”
Mira looked from me to Q and back again. “What are you two talking about?”
Just then, Brandon walked up. “You were fantastic, Ivy!” He gav
e me a hug and let his arm linger possessively around my shoulders as he turned to face Mira and Q. A weird expression flickered across Q’s face before I dropped my gaze.
“Aren’t you two the cutest couple,” Mira said with a giggle and looped her arm possessively through Q’s. “We should double-date!”
LATER, I WOULDN’T allow myself to think about Q. When I’d introduced him to my parents at the concert, there was part of me that wanted to cry. I wanted to tell them that finally, I had found the boy that I loved. But of course, I couldn’t. Mira was very possessive of him and acted like they’d been together for months. Q hadn’t responded to her suggestion that we double-date and I had a feeling that Brandon wasn’t terribly interested in that idea, either. I couldn’t decide if Q was ignoring how Mira was acting or if he was just oblivious. On the way home, my mom commented on what a nice boy Mira was dating.
I woke up Sunday with a terrible sore throat and a fever. My mom took me to the doctor on Monday. Strep was the verdict. Germs were the culprit. Antibiotics were the cure. But I knew perfectly well it was totally emotional overload. I sent Q a text saying that I was going to be out sick for a few days. He asked if I needed anything but I said no. I don’t think he would have understood if I told him I needed a surgical excision of my heart.
IT WAS A GOOD thing to have distance from Q. I was tormented by my feelings for him and then tormented over the guilt over my feelings, then tormented by my lack of feelings for Brandon until I was afraid all my tormented feelings would choke me. Mira Skyped with me every day, bless her, but she talked about Kellen non-stop. I finally told her I couldn’t talk about him anymore or I would barf. Which was pretty much the truth.
I DIDN’T RETURN to school until Friday, the last day before Christmas break. My mom wanted me to stay home one more day, as we were planning to leave the next day for the holidays, but I told her I needed to check my assignments—even though I’d been getting them online all week. She’d trained me well to be responsible. I really went back to school because I wanted to say goodbye to Q. My family was going to be traveling to New York for the holidays to see my brother, as well as to visit my aunt and uncle. I wouldn’t see Q until after the first of the year.
FRIDAY FLEW BY. Q asked me in first period what I was doing over break. I told him we were traveling almost the entire holiday and after that he hadn’t talked much. I’d asked him if he was traveling but he said no, his family was taking a big trip during spring break.
It seemed like I blinked and we were in fifth period. Like normal, Q and I were alone in the music practice room, sequestered in our own little world. We hadn’t talked about my concert. We hadn’t talked about Mira. We hadn’t talked about anything. We were like two strangers, paddling through a dark current, together, alone. If that made any sense at all. Waiting to see if we were going to survive the rapids or die plunging over the falls.
Q sat down at the piano, but he only played for a few minutes before he stopped. His fingers were still resting on the ivory keys when he turned toward me.
“Ivy, I’ve been wanting to ask you something for awhile.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”
“If you could have your pick of any college—where do you want to go?”
I’d never actually given an honest answer to that question before—not even to my parents. I always cloaked the truth in several options. I guess I didn’t want to say it out loud for fear I wasn’t accepted and then would have to admit my failure. But now, for some reason, I told the truth.
“I’d like to go to Harvard. That way I could make both my parents and myself happy. That would be my first choice.”
He nodded. “They’d be lucky to have you.” He slid sideways and straddled the bench facing me. “Would you study music?”
I blinked. No one ever asked me that question. Everyone just assumed that I would study medicine. But the truth was, I had other plans. “I’ve never really told anyone this before, but yes, I’d like to.”
The surprising thing was, he didn’t look surprised at all.
“Have you always known what you wanted to do?” Q’s words were hushed.
I nodded. “I’ve known for a long time. My parents started me on the violin and piano at age three. They are very—” I hesitated, searching for the right word— “focused. I excelled at both instruments so they became more focused. But I think their intent was simply to develop my brain so I would be better prepared to pursue medicine as a career.”
“They want you to be a doctor?”
I nodded. “I never had the heart, or the nerve—” I shook my head at my own lameness— “I don’t know what—but I never told them I had a different dream.”
Q was quiet for a moment. “My sister knew from the fifth grade what she wanted to do, too.”
“What about you?” I ventured. “Have you always known?”
“Me?” He leaned his head back to gaze at the ceiling. When he looked back at me, his words were hushed. “I always loved to play football, but mostly because I was so good at it. I was always tall for my age and athletic—it just came easily to me. Then over time, everybody just expected me to keep playing.” One side of his mouth lifted in a smile that was more mocking then genuine. “After awhile I forgot there were other choices.” He fanned his hands in front of himself. “They told me I was going to be a star.” His expression sobered. “I’d never once considered that the choice might be taken away from me. And certainly not now—right when my dream of playing Pac-12 ball was just about to come true.”
I could see the raw wound in his expression, hear it in his voice. The emotions he tried to hide all the time were painfully obvious.
“That’s why I work so hard at getting better,” he said softly. “I’m not sure what else I’m good enough to do.”
There was something so brutally honest about him—so fragile—I dropped my guard and put my hand over his. “But Q, there are always other choices.”
All the swagger and self-confidence that used to emanate from him when he strutted down the hallways were gone.
“Yeah, but can we choose them, Ivy?” We sat frozen, searching each other’s eyes – recognizing our own reflection in the other. He ran his fingertips along the side of my face, so soft and gentle. “Will we?”
A longing filled me until I wasn’t even sure what we were talking about anymore.
“Will you do me a favor, Ivy?”
At that moment I would do just about anything for him.
“Do you remember when I asked you to play your favorite song?” His hand dropped and he threaded his fingers through mine. I felt like I was melting from the inside out.
I nodded. Of course I remembered. I had shocked myself by really playing the song that meant the most to me.
“Will you play it again today?” I couldn’t define the conflicting emotions I saw in his face—I was too chicken to ask. “Play it for you and me?”
My breath caught in my throat. They were simple words that didn’t convey a simple meaning. For you and me. It said something and nothing at the same time. Without admitting anything, it said everything.
“Yes,” I whispered.
We switched places and his hand trailed along my back before he sat down in the chair. I put my hands on the keys and looked once at his face, his beautiful face that I had memorized long ago, then I closed my eyes and played from my heart. All the sadness and confusion, the guilt and longing poured out through my fingers. I cried through the music. I held the last note, letting it ring and ache, like my heart did.
I opened my eyes and looked over at him. The silence between us stretched, like a tenuous thread that connected our hearts.
His hair fell across his forehead and shadowed his eyes. On the outside, he looked like a Cali surfer boy, all beautiful and sexy. But the pain in his eyes told me that inside was a different story.
“I look at you, Ivy,” he said softly, “and you can do so much. You have so much talent, you’re
so smart…”
“Stop it.” I scooted to the edge of the piano bench. My fingers brushed his warm skin as I swept his hair out of his eyes. I cupped the sides of his face with my hands—the growth along his jaw rough against my fingers. My heart ached with the love I had for this man-boy.
“Q, you are a star,” I whispered. “You’re so smart, such a hard worker. Everyone loves you.” I spoke slowly. “You are meant to do great things. You inspire others to do great things.” I smoothed his hair again, loving the feel of it against my fingers, the chance to just touch him. “You will do great things. I know it. Just follow your heart. The rest will fall into place.” And then I kissed him. With all my heart.
He kissed me back, so tender and sweet. His hand crept up and entwined in my hair and he pulled me closer. His lips parted mine and our tongues met. I could taste him, tangy-sweet like cherry coke, and smell the fresh scent of soap on his skin. I loved every thing about him.
“Ivy.” He pulled back, his voice soft, his fingers still wrapped in my hair. “We have to talk.”
I sat back. Dread replacing desire. Don’t make me say it. Plead ignorance. “About what?” For just this one moment I’d given into my feelings. No one would ever know.
“About us.” He pushed himself out of the chair and slid onto the bench beside me. His blue eyes bored straight into my soul. “We can’t keep pretending there’s nothing happening here.”
“Q.” My voice sounded small, which is how I felt. “There can’t be an ‘us’.” My heart broke with every word.
His brows pulled down in a frown. “Why not?”
My eyes pleaded for understanding. “Because my best friend has been crazy about you for over a year. It would break her heart if you and I went out.” A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye. “I could never do that to her.”
The Last Dance Page 12