Page 64 of The Darkest Note

If he’s determined to become more devious to run me out of Redwood Prep, then I have to up my game too if I intend to stay.

“We won’t escalate it then,” I say simply. “Let’s solve it right here.”

Our teacher opens her mouth.

“Ms. Eunice is a substitute. She can’t make decisions like this,” Christa says, interrupting her.

“It makes no sense to take this to the principal when we can solve it here.”

Ms. Eunice lifts a finger.

Christa frowns. “I don’t trust you. Anyone devious enough to steal my song would find a way out of it.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m not a thief.”

“You’re poor,” she says dismissively, “so of course you’re a thief.”

I give her a long, dark stare, hoping my gaze alone can intimidate her into telling the truth. But since she’s Dutch’s current hook up, it basically guarantees that her heart is as black as his.

There’s not an ounce of sympathy on her face.

Ms. Eunice smacks a hand on the table. “Ladies, if I may have an opportunity to speak.” She gives each of us a sharp stare before continuing, “I know a way to find out who really wrote the song.”

Christa’s eyes turn shaky. “How?”

Ms. Eunice smiles, allowing her thin lips to stretch over her papery skin. “Let’s re-write it.”

She slaps fresh music sheets on the desk.

Christa turns pale.

I start grinning hard.

Yes. I can totally do this.

“And then you’ll both perform it,” Ms. Eunice adds.

My victory crumbles to ash before my eyes. “What do you mean perform it? Like… in front of people?”

“Yes.”

I lean forward. “Miss Eunice, I told you I can’t… I can’t do that.”

“I agree. There has to be another way,” Christa argues.

Ms. Eunice lifts a hand. “The person that cannot write and perform the song accurately is obviously not the one who wrote it.”

Nervous, I pick at the hem of my uniform skirt.

“That’s a waste of time,” a voice says.

I swing my gaze around and spot Dutch leaning against the wall at the back of the class. At the sight of him, a slow, burning sensation sweeps the bottom of my chest.

Dutch’s painfully intense stare bores right through me.

I wish I could run away from it and the memories they inspire.

Instead, I keep staring at his chiseled jaw, the straight nose and the wickedly glowing amber eyes and remember our kiss in the changing room.

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