Page 68 of Crescendo

I didn’t know anything.

“That’s okay.”

I pressed my eyes together. “I ran out of class.”

“That’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

I looked at her. “I never run out of class.”

She breathed a laugh, looking more like herself. “Ella, this is a voluntary programme that you’re paying to participate in. I don’t think they’re taking attendance.”

Perhaps she had a point.

I looked her over.

She was so… alive. Huge personality, unafraid to take up space. She understood the world so much more clearly than I felt like I had in years. How did she stay sogoodin the face of howmuch just being alive hurt? Feeling blocked, travelling across the world to feel successful again, Eliza and her nonsense, me and my breakdowns… How did she stay so vibrant, so kind?

“You’re a great violinist,” I said quietly.

She scoffed. “That is so deeply unimportant right now.”

“It’s important to me.”

She watched me, moving her mouth like she was going to say something but stopping herself.

And my stomach growled. Loud. The first time I’d felt hungry in days.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, pressing a hand into my midsection.

“Shit,” she said, looking around wildly for the time. It was later than I’d realised but I didn’t think I’d slept for too long, which was a relief. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Oh. Er. No.”

“Let’s get you somethi—”

“Food’s been a bit… difficult the last few days.” I looked away, picking at the edge of the blanket. “I haven’t had much appetite or, um, really kept much down.”

She hummed like that wasn’t surprising news to her. “Does anything sound good right now? Anything that feels safe?”

Safe… that was an odd way to phrase it. Something in my gut clenched unpleasantly.

I breathed deeply against it. Everything was fine. As fine as it was getting, at least.

“Pasta,” I said eventually. “I could really eat some pasta.”

She smiled. “You got it.”

“What are you doing?” I asked as she leaned away to grab her phone and started tapping at it.

“Finding an Italian delivery place near here.”

I shook my head and a dizzy sensation shot through me. “I can just make it.”

She snorted. “Ella Hendrickson, I amnotletting you cook right now. We’re staying right here on the floor and I’m buying you whatever pasta you want.”

I laughed nervously. “You don’t need to do that. I can pay.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me treat you. It’s the least I can do after you let me accompany you.” She shot me a look, purposefully keeping things light. “I did tell you I’d give you anything you wanted for it.”

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