Page 123 of The Darkest Note

My chin tilts higher as I shift to another note.

My heart is calm instead of beating like crazy.

Is it because of what happened at the homecoming dance with The Kings? I played the triangle in front of a crowd of fourteen-year-olds. Maybe it affected me more than I thought.

With a deep breath, I glance up.

And it doesn’t freak me out.

I glance at the piano again and then look up again.

My stomach doesn’t clench. In fact, it’s a little exhilarating to see how much people are enjoying my music.

It’s a victory. And after the week, no after the weeks that I’ve had, I needed one.

I’m okay.

For the first time since I can remember, I smile when I play. My fingers run over the keys, dancing to a rhythm that no one else understands. I close my eyes and let it flow how it wants to.

Music welcomes me. Envelops me. It’s a tide that sweeps over my entire body. Rough on the surface, fragile underneath.

I didn’t have time to prepare a hip-hop backing track or plan a concert that flows smoothly. This is just me. My blood. My heart. My everything. Like I shoved a hand into my chest and pulled out my intestines.

When I’m done, I hear applause. The pop up event is alive with movement. Waiters dip in and out of tables. Couples of all ages sit, entwined, facing the stage. Not a single table is free. In fact, there’s a line of customers watching and waiting beyond the velvet ropes that cordon off the event.

The shame returns, fierce and crippling. It’s worse this time because I know what it feels like to play as myself. The liberation. The authenticity. The wig and makeup feel even heavier on me now than they did before.

I hurry off the stage and nod at the two violinists who walk up next.

The manager of the event is underneath the drinks tent. He gives me a thumbs-up. I wave awkwardly in return.

My phone chimes.

I glance down in surprise when I see they deposited more than the agreed upon amount in my account. Since when did Gorge pay right after a performance instead of three days later?

I’m not going to complain. This will go a long way in putting something towards the rent.

“Hey.”

At the sound of my brother’s voice, a bucket of cold water splashes over me. After mom died, I gave him so many chances.

He’d just found out his mother was a drug addict and he had two half sisters who were just as poor and messed up as he was. It was probably a lot to take in. I understood.

But he didn’t reach out to us for weeks. And then, when we asked him for help, he told me to jump off a cliff. Maybe he didn’t use those exact words, but it was clear we were nothing but a burden to him.

I swore to cut him out of my life and pretend he never existed, pretend mom never told us he existed.

So why is there a part of me that wants to get a hug from him?

Keeping my back to him, I cough. “What?”

“I just wanted you to know that you play really… well…” He steps in front of me suddenly and his eyes widen with amazement. “Cadence?”

“How did you…” I realize I just gave myself away and redden. Terrified, I glance around, noticing all the waitresses giving us a weird look. Did they hear us?

His eyes bug. “Itisyou.”

I look up into my brother’s face. We first met a day after I received mom’s suicide note. He came to the house wearing dusty jeans, a stained button down and old sneakers. His hair was thick and wavy and he didn’t look anything like me or Vi.

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