The Perfectionists

Chapter 27

Okay. Deep breathes it is all going to be okay.

It was Friday afternoon, and Jane sat in a gray institutional hallway in the University of Auradon's music building, cradling her cello against her chest. It was almost time for her audition—which meant that right now, Lonnie was in there, wowing the judges. Jane hadn't seen her go in, but Lonnie's audition time was branded into her brain. She wondered if Lonnie was nervous. She wondered if she'd feverishly washed her hands at least three times before she went in there, a little tic Lonnie had before every audition.

Because Jane was the last audition of the day, no one else was in the hall with her. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe, but panic bubbled up inside. She knew, deep in her bones, that she hadn't practiced enough. She'd been so worried about Ben and the investigation. She'd spent so much time with Carlos.

But even now, thinking about Carlos tugged her lips into a smile. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to see if he'd responded to any of her texts. When she arrived on campus, she'd texted him, Here goes nothing/everything. But he still hadn't texted back. It was so unlike him. He knew she had her audition today. Then again he was working—maybe it was busy at the cupcake shop?

Suddenly, a change in the draft pushed the door to the recital hall open just a bit, and a familiar melody wafted out. Jane blinked for a moment, listening to Lonnie's precise notes and emotional phrasing. The piece she was playing was familiar, and suddenly she understood why. It was her piece. The Tchaikovsky.

Jane leaped to her feet. This couldn't be happening. Lonnie was supposed to play Popper. Carlos had said she was. But did she really have to ask why she'd switched all of a sudden? Only, how did she know what piece Jane had chosen? The only people she'd told were her parents—and they wouldn't say anything—and Carlos.

Carlos. Jane's heart stopped. She looked at her phone again. Still no text back. No, she told herself. It couldn't be. Carlos wouldn't betray her like that. Lonnie had found out another way.

"Miss Godmother?" An iron-haired woman in a tailored suit stood in the doorway with a clipboard, peering over the top of her glasses. "Are you ready?"

Jane felt as if her cello weighed five hundred pounds as she carried it into the recital hall. The stage was brightly lit, and she could barely make out the five panelists a few rows back. The Juilliard accompanist, a balding, dark-skinned man wearing a button-down shirt and tie, sat at the grand piano on the stage with her. Otherwise the hall was empty.

She started to unpack her instrument and set up her things, her hands trembling violently.

"My name is Jane Godmother. Thank you for your consideration," she said, her voice wavering. But then something came over her. Forget Lonnie, a voice said. Forget everyone. Think about your talents. Think about how much you want this.

She took a deep breath and started to play.

There was no applause after each piece, but it didn't matter. She knew she was acing it. She didn't miss a note of the Elgar or the Beethoven, and her rendition of "The Swan" soared elegantly from her fingers. Before the final song, she swallowed. "Excuse me," she said to the accompanist. "I'd like to change my last selection, if you wouldn't mind."

He looked surprised but smiled. Jane took a deep breath. It was now or never—and she wasn't going down without a fight. She looked at the judges. "I know I put on my form that I'd be playing Tchaikovsky's Pezzo capriccioso, but instead I will be playing Popper's Spinning Song for you."

She raised her bow, holding absolutely still for a long moment. Then, nodding at the pianist, she launched into one of the most difficult pieces in the cello repertoire.

The song started with a frenzied succession of high-pitched notes. It was deadly fast and sent the cellist's hands flying up and down the neck of the instrument at roller-coaster speeds. Jane had always thought the song was kind of annoying, but it was one of the best songs to show off with, and now, as she played, a strange thing happened. For the first time, she found the playfulness of the piece. Instead of sounding strained and manic and frantic to her, it sounded fun. Flippant, and careless, and energetic. She almost laughed out loud as she played. For just a moment, nothing could touch her.

When she was finished, she sat still, almost breathless. She didn't know if it would be enough to get her in, but she knew one thing: She'd just had the best audition of her life.

"Thank you, Miss Godmother. That was beautiful," said a voice from the panelists. "You'll be hearing from us soon."

Jane almost skipped out of the recital hall. "Yes," she said, pumping her fist in the hallway. She looked at her phone again, but still no text from Carlos.

She barely remembered driving to the cupcake store. She parked out front and was about to push through the door and call his name. But when she saw Carlos behind the counter, she froze on the sidewalk.

Another girl's arms were wrapped around him. A girl with short, long hair, dressed from head to foot in concert black. Lonnie.

"It was perfect," Lonnie said, gazing up into Carlos's eyes. There were two open windows at the front of the shop; Jane could hear every word. "I totally nailed it. And I saw her go in, too. She was super pale. Probably freaked that I'd done the Tchaikovsky."

Jane's blood curdled. She turned away, her hands on the door handle, when Lonnie's voice rang out.

"Oh, hey, Jane." Her voice oozed sarcasm.

"How was your audition? You weren't unprepared or anything, were you?"

Jane turned to see Lonnie's ugly smile. Then she peeked at Carlos. His eyes were lowered. He'd turned pale. All thoughts in her brain froze.
But then she blurted, "I thought you guys broke up."

Lonnie unwound herself from Carlos and stepped out from the back of the counter. "I knew you'd fall for it," she sneered at Jane .

Jane blinked. "F-fall for what?"

"I told Blake to hang out with you, schedule a few extra band rehearsals." Claire grinned. "I knew you'd drop everything. Even practicing for your audition."

"You . . . what?" She glanced at Blake, but he still wouldn't look at her. None of this was making any sense.

"I wanted him to distract you before the audition." She smirked. "And he did. Oh, and all your confessions to Carlos? He told me everything. Including that you were playing Tchaikovsky." She reached across the counter and clutched his hand. "And we aren't broken up. We're stronger than ever."

Jane stared at Carlos, her heart pounding fast. "Is that true?"

But Carlos still had his eyes lowered. He didn't answer Jane, but he didn't stand up for Lonnie, either. He looked trapped and humiliated. "I . . . ," he started, then looked away.

"Yes." Lonnie spoke for him. "Every single word is true."

Jane could feel the tears forming in her eyes. But then she realized: She could give Lonnie exactly what she wanted and bawl her eyes out right now, or she could beat Lonnie at the only game either of them had ever really cared about. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at her ex-friend. "Well, maybe Carlos doesn't want me," she heard herself say. "But I'm pretty sure Juilliard does. Good luck at Oberlin," she said with a sniff for good measure.

Before Lonnie could get another word in, Jane turned on her heel and pushed out the door.