Chapter 1
I was three steps away from the recital stage when Lucinda tore the bow out of my hand.
For one second, I did not understand.
My fingers were still shaped around the wood that was no longer there.
Then she grabbed my violin.
My violin.
The one my father gave me after my mother died.
The one I had slept beside the night before because I was afraid something would happen to it.
Lucinda lifted it above the polished hallway floor and smashed it down.
The sound cracked through the school like a gunshot.
Wood split.
Strings snapped.
My heart seemed to break with it.
I dropped to my knees before I even knew I was falling.
Pieces of my violin lay around me.
The bridge had snapped loose.
The bow was broken near my hand.
My red recital dress spread across the floor like spilled blood.
Lucinda shoved my shoulder.
Hard.
I fell sideways, away from the stage entrance.
“Harper gets the solo,” she said.
Her voice was calm.
That was the worst part.
Not loud.
Not guilty.
Calm.
Like she had simply moved a chair out of the way.
Behind her, Harper stood in a white dress with silver pins in her hair.
My stepsister looked nervous, but she did not move.
She held her own violin against her chest and stared at the floor.
The music inside the auditorium stopped.
People whispered.
I fought the tears because I knew Lucinda wanted them.
I pressed my hand over the broken pieces.
My throat burned.
Then I heard a chair scrape in the back row.
My father had been sitting quietly near the last seats, beside two men in dark suits.
Everyone in the room knew who Salvatore De Luca was.
Everyone was afraid to look at him too long.
But I looked.
Because he was my daddy.
He rose slowly.
The two men beside him rose too.
His face had gone still.
Still in the way the ocean goes still before a storm.
He walked down the aisle toward me.
My eyes finally spilled over.
“Daddy,” I whispered. “I practiced every day.”
His jaw tightened.
Lucinda grabbed Harper’s wrist and pulled her toward the stage mark where I was supposed to stand.
“No,” she snapped. “The program will continue.”
Mrs. Bell, my music teacher, stepped in front of Harper.
Her hands shook, but her voice did not.
“Amelia earned that solo.”
Lucinda turned on her.
“You forget who pays for this school.”
Mrs. Bell lifted her chin.
“And you forget whose name is on that program.”
Lucinda’s face twisted.
She reached angrily toward my teacher.
May you like
I cried out.
“Don’t touch her.”
