Sound Carries

32.

The rest of reading week slid by in a dizzying blur, over too quickly, and when classes started again, they did so with a vigour that reminded me at once what was at stake. I was swept along in the current alongside the rest of my classmates, struggling to stay afloat.

I was so nervous about the upcoming gala that I was starting to feel sick whenever I thought about it. I wasn't allowed to sing anything from the show, and the only other piece I had anywhere close to ready was the Verdi aria. The ending was still in shambles, and no matter how many times Dr. Davis assured me it would come together, I considered the prospect of performing the piece with dread. There were only a few days left, and I spent hours of them locked away in the practice rooms, nearly drowning myself in tea with honey, feeling at once a deep appreciation for the stress Audra had been under last year and resentment that she'd managed to do it all with apparent ease.

Now, though, Audra looked awful. Gone was the girl who arrived to class looking like a catalogue model. Now, Audra's style was distinctively more relaxed, and once she'd come to watch a masterclass in street clothes instead of the distinctive Conolly uniform, hair still wet from showering.

I might have ribbed her for it if that was the only area she was flagging, but Audra was falling behind in school too, openly admitting to skipping readings and classes. I was nearly constantly distressed by her dismal apathy, even more distressed by what it might mean. This wasn't the sort of Audra I could make fun of. Right now she looked as though she might shatter at any moment, topple over at the slightest breeze.

If we're using crazed jealously as a motive, I can think of a different candidate. It was obscene to even consider it. But I was considering it.

I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Gabriel hovered around her near constantly, and once, late after a rehearsal, I overheard him talking to Dr. Ritter about her, which I found strange not only because I hadn't realized the two of them were close, but because he sounded genuinely concerned.

The day of the gala, I spent the afternoon lying face-down on the floor of our room, ignoring Cecily's pleas to join her on a walk. I was so nervous that the thought of moving at all was accompanied by a wave of revulsion so strong I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from gagging.

Eventually she gave up, and called Oliver in.

I heard him come in, kept my eyes squeezed shut even when he laughed helplessly. "What are you doing down there?"

"Being miserable."

"Why?"

I paused, nose squashed against the carpet. "I'm going to be bad."

Oliver walked around the bed, and then even though there wasn't really room, he got down and lay on the ground next to me on his back. "No you aren't."

I knew I was being obnoxious and pouty, that I sounded like Audra, but I couldn't stop. I turned my head so that my cheek was pressed against the carpet fibres. "I'm going to disappoint everyone."

"You're not going to disappoint anyone."

"They're all expecting a Hannah. I'm not a Hannah."

"You don't have to be a Hannah." He said. "You have to be a Leah. And try your best, that's all."

"You sound like my mother."

He hesitated. "Are they coming?"

I shook my head. I hadn't actually spoken to them since well before Christmas with the exception of one stilted phone call in late January. I'd told them I'd gotten a lead role, but it hadn't been as satisfying as I'd thought it would be. There was still an ache behind my sternum, a longing for something, but I didn't know what it was.