Page 39 of House of Hearts
“I heard that,” Calvin quips from his end of the room at the same time Ash mumbles the Latin “incorrigibilis.”
“Good. You were meant to,” I snap before looking back at the paper. “How could anyone fall for that?”
Sadie shrugs. “She was pretty sheltered most of her life and also a die-hard romantic. I’m sure she thought it was charming.”
“Plenty of people find me charming.”
“No one’s talking about you anymore, Calvin.”
He grumbles to himself but mercifully shuts up for the remainder of the meeting. The next time I hear from him, it’s when he’s standing up and cracking his knuckles. “I’m going to call it for today. I have a Curtis audition I need to practice for—Mom’s been grilling me on it. If you hear screaming and crying in the other room, it’s me.”
The clock in the corner says it’s five past curfew, but I know one flash of my card will have the RA turning a blind eye when I get back. It feels like the ultimate hall pass, so much so that I cornered Calvin in the cafeteria earlier to hammer out the specifics. Surely there had to besomethings off-limits, right?
“How is it that we can fling our card around and do whatever the hell we want, no consequences?” I questioned, my voice a hushed murmur in the lunch line.
He’d placed a waxed apple on his tray and thrown a shrug back at me. “When your mom’s the headmistress, people have a habit of looking the other way. She’s pulled some heavy strings in the background to keep us running and functional. Besides,” he continued, sinking his teeth into the red skin and swallowing down a chunk. His voice loweredto a haughty whisper. “Who gives a shit about detention when you’re fighting a literal ghost?”
As much as I hate being a smug card-waver like the rest of them, I can’t leave all this information behind now. Like I’m in some sort of waking dream, I worry that the instant reality comes ringing, all this will fade away.
I’m clearly the only one in the room with that sentiment because the rest of them gradually leave one by one. Tripp yawns and dismisses himself for the night with a two-finger salute; Mallory leaves immediately after; Oliver winces at his phone screen as he leaves at the several missed FaceTime attempts from Amber.
Birdie stands up next, and I prepare for some excuse to leave her lips, but instead of heading for the door, she walks our way.
“I think you need to swap us,” she confesses after a quiet moment. Her hand slides against the back of her neck, and she shifts her eyes to the floor. “I might’ve been Emoree’s roommate, but let’s face it, Violet knows more about her than I ever will.”
“Are you sure?” Sadie asks like she’s waiting for Birdie to change her mind.
“I’m sure. I’m better at history anyway. Violet should take my place.”
Sadie deliberates over that with a strained wince. “I was worried about Calvin looking for any excuse to screw around and not work, but I can tellyou’reserious, Violet. Fine. You’re right. We’ll switch.”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to say, but Sadie doesn’t give me time to think.
With an exhausted rub of her eyes, she says, “Well, I guess go let him know.”
“Where is he?”
“Didn’t you hear? Follow the screaming and crying.”
I do the second-best thing and follow the sound of the piano.
The overall composition has “Calvin” written all over it. Dramatic, consuming, maudlin. The pianist is so enraptured with his music, he doesn’t pay me any mind as I slip inside. Calvin’s eyes are closed as his fingers fly across the keys in a Dionysian riot. The notes are equal measures haunting and romantic.
Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 13, “Pathétique,”the sheet reads.
Somewhere within the third movement, the melody falls off. The piece collapses in on itself like a house of cards, and Calvin pushes away from the keys with a snarl.
“ ‘Pathetic’ is right,” he mutters under his breath before turning to look at me. “Are you here to laugh at my expense?”
“Shockingly, no. I’m here to tell you that Birdie begged to switch, so now you’re stuck with me.”
He couldn’t look more disappointed if he tried. “You?”
“That would be what I said, yes,” I grit back, ignoring the painful stab in my chest at his tone. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, I’m sure it will be as wonderful as a root canal,” he mocks sweetly. “Oh, sorry, that wasn’t very incorrigibly flirtatious of me. Allow me to try again. Ahem. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
“I don’t know, shall you?” I challenge.
