Coveted

  Chapter 14

  Samantha, and by extension, Amanda, had tried to keep a low profile the next day. I knew what the need to feel invisible was like. I may not have been labelled 'the diaper girl' but I had endured similar fare from Samantha herself. Luckily, her new name for me had not caught on due to Bran's intervention. I was both agonized and grateful.

  Our last rehearsal was during lunch that day and that night would be the concert. Mrs. Montgomery had reached a new low during that rehearsal. She was wearing gray sweats. Her hair hadn't even been brushed and she broke down into wracking sobs when Spencer White missed his mark again. I was even beginning to lose my resentment towards her as it was replaced by pity.

  I was finally beginning to see her side of it as we sat in our nice clothes, mine just a pair of black pants and a white button up shirt my mother had bought me for the event, and watched parents and siblings wander in to take their pick of rickety, folding chairs. Mrs. Montgomery had pulled a Cinderella. Evidently, she had gone home to bathe after school because she was now looking like her former self, though she jumped and laughed too loud when greeted by Principal Patterson.

  Ms. Patterson was a middle-aged woman with short blond hair. She was incredibly skinny, even thinner than I had been at my most troubled. She looked like a child trying on her mother's clothes in her turquoise suit with overly stuffed shoulder pads.

  Michael waved as he walked in with Maria trailing him. She was looking as unhappy as ever. Michael always seemed happy but she looked miserable on a constant basis. I couldn't understand why he seemed content with such a mismatched situation.

  When there was only a sparse hodgepodge of vacant seats left, Mrs. Montgomery walked up to the conductor's podium and greeted the audience. She spoke glowingly about the pieces she had been screaming heresy about just hours before. She spoke of how proud she was of the same students she had berated for being 'abusive' and 'lacking in dedication'. She finished her speech by thanking the parents for coming to share with us in the results of our hard work. She faced us and lifted her slightly trembling hands to start the first piece.

  There would be no viral videos about our amazing school chamber orchestra but even Mrs. Montgomery seemed to have accepted that we weren't that bad. Bran and I had worked so hard that we carried through the pieces without any trouble. I stole a glance over at him as he pulled his bow across the strings. How long had he really been playing? I noticed Ben finally seemed to have mastered how to hold his bow. That simple fact might have saved his life. Bran had been getting pretty irate about Ben's lack of improvement.

  We finished to genuine applause, not just the pitying smattering of claps we had had been expecting. The entire orchestra let out a collective sigh of relief that our torture with Mrs. Montgomery was finally at an end.

  Ms. Patterson presented Mrs. Montgomery with flowers and gave a short speech lauding her hard work before calling up Mr. Gordon Fletcher, who officially announced the generous donation to the music department. As the audience shambled its way from the gym, we were required to stay seated with our instruments as the principal, Mrs. Montgomery, and Mr. Fletcher posed for photos. After what seemed like the thousandth flash, we were finally released from our obligations.

  Bran slid onto the piano bench next to me. He started playing a few notes from our pieces, poorly.

  "Good thing you stuck to the cello," I teased as I replayed the same bars to rub it in. I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder. "Finally," I muttered.

  He jutted his chin in the direction of the door. "You're mother's waiting." He smiled down at me. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "No fair," I muttered.

  He chuckled. "Think of it as only a few hours." Then he kissed me.

  I wanted to scream at him for lacking all sense at the same time I wanted to moan his name and run away with him. Even the talons and the fire had become a welcome torment. He pulled away and smiled down at me. "Have a nice night with your mother," he teased with a smile before walking back to his cello to pack it up. He knew exactly what he had done.

  I turned to look at her. I knew I was flushed. One of her eyebrows was raised. I swallowed hard, trying to supress the urge to vomit. I needn't have bothered. There wouldn't have been anything to expel. I had been too busy and too stressed all day to eat.

  "Hi, mom," I muttered as I walked up to her. I tried to make eye contact with her and failed. We both knew why. "Your friend didn't make it in time?"

  "How long?" she asked. Her voice was more stern than usual.

  I shrugged. "Maybe a couple weeks. We haven't exactly gone on any dates or had much time together yet. It seems like preparing for this concert has taken every waking minute."

  She sighed with what I took to be relief. "At least I'm not completely out of the loop," she said. "I was worried I'd been missing out on your life with working so much."

  In the best answer I could give her, I shrugged again. I was not about to admit the full extent of what had transpired between Bran and I or what developments we had managed to fit into our busy schedule. I was relieved that she did not seem to suspect any of it.

  We went home, ordered in three of the largest pizzas my mother could buy, and watched Fred for the rest of the night. The entire time, I thought of Bran and our real history together.

  Part II: The Dove