Page 20 of Filthy Elites

“Hmm. I think I need to hear her play for myself to judge.”

“Uh, I didn’t bring my violin,” I say.

“You can borrow one of Jason’s. Go fetch it, boy.”

Even though we’re enemies, I feel bad for him. She’s treating him like a dog.

His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t talk back. He pivots and goes inside.

“Why did you invite me to dinner?” I ask.

“I need to know what I’m dealing with. I’ve given up hope that Jason will ever make waves in the classical music scene, but at least he was the best at Maverick Prep. I’d hate to see a nobody swoop in and erase all my hard work.”

Jesus. This woman is vile. No wonder Jason is the way he is.

He returns a moment later holding a violin. I’m sure he heard what his mother just said. He practically shoves the instrument into my hands and then plops onto the couch. “Go on, Nicola. Dazzle us.”

His attitude grates on my nerves, but my animosity toward his mother is greater. I don’t want to give her more ammunition to humiliate Jason. If I play like myself, I have no doubt she’ll flay him alive for not being as good as me. I’ve seen it plenty of times before. Parents who can’t accept their child’s limitations. Not everyone is a prodigy, and that should be okay. I’ve witnessed many of my friends have nervous breakdowns because of parental pressure.

I play for her, but I do it badly. It goes against my nature to suck this hard, but I don’t need to prove myself to this witch. I’m not a show pony. Because the sound I’m making is so horrible, I keep it short.

When I lower the violin, they’re both glowering.

“What the hell was that?” she asks.

I shrug. “You asked me to play, so I did.”

She turns to Jason. “How bad have you gotten if Mrs. Simpson thinks this trash is at your level?”

Whoa. Things escalated fast. I didn’t expect to be called names.

Jason gets up. “We’re done here, Mother.”

He strides back inside the house, leaving me alone with the horrible woman.

“You know, they’re right when they say you should never meet your idol. You’re a fucking disappointment.”

I hurry to catch up with Jason, knowing he won’t think twice before leaving me behind. He already has the engine on when I slide into the passenger seat with his damn violin in my hand.

He peels away before I have the chance to put my seat belt on. “Slow down, buddy.”

He ignores me as the car keeps gaining speed. I notice after a while that we’re not going back to school. He takes the scenic route, a winding road hugging the cliffs. One side is solid rock, and the other, certain death if he misses a curve.

That’s it. He’s going to commit suicide and take me with him. I don’t talk, afraid that if I say anything, it’ll distract him. Instead, I clutch the door handle and pray to survive this ride from hell.

But Jason is an expert driver, and he knows how to handle the curves. He stops when he reaches a lookout point. Jason gets out of the car and walks all the way to the edge.

I debate whether I should follow him. In the end, I do, because I’m partially to blame for his behavior. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I can’t see someone suffer like this even if he’s the enemy. Or maybe I like lost causes.

“Jason, are you okay?” I ask.

“Why did you do that?” he asks without looking at me.

“I didn’t like her attitude. She didn’t deserve my best.”

He turns, and this close to the ocean and under the light of the sunset, his eyes are even more stunning. “You played like shit on purpose. Now she thinks I play like that too.”

“Why do you care what she thinks?”

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