Page 6

CHAPTER

TWO

ERIN

“You will be ready for the concert on Monday, ja ?” he asks in his German accent. “College scouts will be there.”

Mr. Meyer hopes I’ll consider pursuing music at a professional level and constantly shows me brochures for amazing courses.

There’s no point in raising my hopes. I’ll go to whichever college my father deems suitable.

He wants me to become a doctor or a lawyer.

Piano is simply an extra tick on my application to help me stand out.

“I’ll be ready,” I promise. “I’ll practice this weekend.”

He sighs in exasperation. “You best do. I can’t have my star pupil letting us down.”

“You have my word,” I say.

I can play the pieces in my sleep, they come as easy as breathing. My fingers naturally know where to go and skip over the keys effortlessly, but I’m distracted because of the party and the lies I have to tell to get there.

Mia’s waiting outside the rehearsal room and links her arm through mine when I’m done. “Ready?”

I quickly adjust my clothes to ensure my buttons are done and tie is in perfect position, then nod wearily. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

My father’s car is already waiting in the lot when we approach, and Mia squeezes my arm in a silent show of solidarity.

“I wasn’t expecting two of you.” He frowns, checking his watch when I open the passenger side door. “You’re late.”

Four minutes late.

“Sorry, Doctor Acacia. That’s totally my fault. I was listening to Erin play and didn’t want her to stop,” Mia gushes. “After hearing her, I asked my mom to let Erin play for her.”

I say the words I’ve rehearsed like a mantra all day. “Ms. Moldova offered to give me extra tuition ahead of the concert next week.”

“Extra tuition?” he snaps. “Why do you need that? I’m already paying Mr. Meyer for extra.”

“She doesn’t need any extra help,” Mia interjects, “but my mom loves to support local artists, especially when they’re my friends. She insists!”

“And, Erin?” Dad’s eyes bore into mine, daring me to confront him. “What do you think of this offer?”

“Mr. Meyer’s great, but he’s no Ms. Moldova,” I reply, accepting his silent challenge. “I could learn so much from her. She’s a genius, and I haven’t seen her for months.”

“Tonight’s not a good night,” he says. “Now get in the car, Erin.”

Usually, I’d drop the matter, but Mia clings onto my arm. She’s the reason I don’t give up instantly.

“I really think this will help, D-Dad,” I stammer. “Who else gets the chance to learn from a world-class musician? It’d look great on a college application, and she might give me a reference.”

“A reference?”

“Yes,” Mia says. “She definitely will. One hundred percent.”

“Hm.” His knuckles grip the wheel, mulling it over.

He hates me leaving the house but knows the benefits of a good reference.

Plus, his daughter being trained by a world-class musician would give him bragging rights in his social circle.

Eventually, he nods in reluctant agreement.

“Fine, but I want to speak to your mother, Mia.”

“Of course,” Mia says. “I’ll get her to call you as soon as we’re home. She’ll be rehearsing right now and doesn’t like being disturbed when she’s practicing. You know what creatives are like.”

“What time should I pick you up?” he asks rhetorically. “I’ll give you three hours.”

“It’s already six,” Mia says. “Why don’t you stay the night, Erin? It’s honestly no problem. We have the space.”

The way she says it comes out so offhandedly that it almost convinces me that this wasn’t pre-planned.

Dad’s brow furrows in suspicion. “Erin has a busy schedule.”

“I don’t have school tomorrow,” I say, daring to push his boundaries further. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Please, Dad? Just this once? Think about college!”

A long pause drags out, squeezing all the air from my lungs with it.

“Fine,” he quips. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast. Do not be late again.”

“Yes, sir.”

I close the car door, not quite believing we’ve pulled it off. We say nothing until we’re back in Mia’s car, and my father’s taillights are vanishing into the distance.

“Okay, your dad is officially the scariest man I’ve ever met,” she says. “Holy shit, I thought he was going to drag you away. Did you see his face?”

“I can’t believe he said yes.”

I expected him to put up more of a fight…

“Well, he did.” Mia cranks up Taylor Swift to full blast. “It’s time to party!”

I giggle nervously. Well, I guess I’m doing this…

Two hours and a fake phone call to my dad later, Mia is in her element. I haven’t seen her this excited since she modeled in a cosmetics campaign. Her room has been transformed into a runway, and she’s hurling garments at me from all angles.

Her bedroom is an explosion of color: pink walls, a California king bed with a heart-shaped headboard, and a dressing table with flashing lights that give Hollywood vibes. My room looks like a nun’s library in comparison.

“Try this dress,” she suggests.

I hold it against me. It’s purple, skintight, and has a plunging neckline that goes down to my belly button. “Absolutely not.”

“Okay, fine.” She ponders, then twirls her finger. “Turn for me.”

I humor her and spin.

She bites her lip in concentration, then her eyes light up. “Okay, I have just the outfit.”

She rifles around her rails in her adjoining walk-in, launching Jimmy Choos and Nikes at me. I duck to avoid being hit in the head.

“What the…” I pick up a bright pink, phallic object that lands at my feet alongside the pile of shoes. “Is this what I think it is?”

She turns and smirks. “Oh yeah, that. I figured I’d try it after being fingered by Oliver did nothing for me.” She shrugs. “I thought there was something wrong with me at first, but no. It was all his poor technique and skinny fingers.”

Oliver is Mia’s long-term, on-and-off boyfriend, who is hosting the party this evening.

My cheeks flush as I throw the vibrator to the side.

“Poor Oliver,” I say.

“Poor Oliver got the best head of his life from me, so don’t feel too sorry for him. Besides, he’s better now that I’ve shown him what to do.” She wiggles her fingers and cackles. “All he needed was a little practice.”

Hearing about Mia’s sexual exploits is liberating, but I’d never talk so openly about sex myself. It’s not that I don’t have sexy thoughts or fantasies—I just can’t imagine ever acting on them. At this rate, I’ll die a virgin.

“You really should buy one,” she says.

“Huh?”

“A vibrator,” she says. “Actually, I can give you a spare…”

“Borrowing an outfit is one thing, but I draw the line at sharing sex toys.”

She throws an unopened plastic box my way. “A brand-new bullet, never used. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“If my parents found it?—”

“They won’t,” she insists. “It’s tiny, so I’m sure you can hide it. You’ll be thanking me later.”

I slip it into my backpack to avoid an argument, but vow to throw it away later.

It being discovered isn’t worth the risk.

I don’t want to be branded a sex addict and forced to attend some of Dad’s colleagues’ group therapy sessions.

I’ve already sat through countless sessions in Sarah’s absence.

Despite patient confidentiality, everything I said somehow found its way back to Dad.

“Found it.” Mia holds up a black dress. It’s more understated than all of her previous suggestions. “Thoughts?”

“It’s okay,” I say.

“Try it on then.”

I wriggle the dress on. Although it’s tight, the fabric stretches effortlessly, and it’s buttery smooth. It’s an off-the-shoulder cut with long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that shows a tasteful amount of cleavage.

“You look hot, but it’s missing something…” She scratches her chin then proceeds to find a studded belt and a velvet choker. “That’s better. It gives me Princess Di’s revenge dress energy with an edge. Very you.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I slowly rotate to check myself out in the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress like this. It matches my makeup: a natural soft glam look with silver eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and neutral lips.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I ask nervously, noticing how tightly the dress clings to my ass.

“This isn’t just any old high school party where you wear jeans and chug kegs in the middle of some forest,” she says. “This is a Theobald party. Trust me, this is enough.”

As well as being Mia’s boyfriend, Oliver Theobald is Nate’s best friend and, quite possibly, the richest guy at Stonybridge Academy. His dad founded a major software firm that sold for an eye-watering amount. With his fortune, he bought a giant plot of land and built the famous Theobald mansion.

“I feel like we’re going to the Oscars or something,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Does my hair look okay?”

My brown hair flutters around my collarbones in loose, gentle waves that will probably fall out by the end of the night.

Compared to Mia, I look positively plain.

She’s donning a white leotard with a glittering gold mesh dress layer over the top, which flaunts her sculpted long legs and gorgeous figure.

With her dangling gold earrings, hair piled on top of her head, and bright red lips, she looks like a celebrity.

“Stop worrying. You look perfect,” Mia insists. “This is your debut to the Stonybridge social scene. You need to make an impact. Nate’s going to love it.”

Nervous and excited butterflies flutter in my stomach. “I don’t know about that.”

Mia holds her phone out. “Let’s take a picture.”

“Fine,” I say. Her enthusiasm is infectious. “But don’t post it anywhere.”

I avoided going on social media for months after Sarah’s disappearance.

Seeing her face splashed all over the internet alongside theories about what happened to her was too difficult.

Every day, new posts appeared about people claiming they’d seen her in Wyoming, Ohio, Australia, and even Iceland. Not to mention the trolling…

“My ten thousand followers would eat up your beautiful face, but fine,” she says. “Just get over here already.”

We make a few jokey poses for the camera.

Mia wraps a pink feather boa around my neck, and I sneeze while she kisses me on the cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind.

This is the most normal I’ve felt in… well, I can’t remember.

We giggle, and the heavy pressure that weighs on me most days lightens for a moment.

Is this how being eighteen is supposed to feel?

Maybe this is why Sarah ran away. Did she want to chase this feeling of freedom?

Despite a year passing, I still have no answers.

Stepping outside of my comfort zone and into the world Sarah lived in could help me find them, or I’ll learn that some secrets are best buried…