Chapter 2
My father caught Lucinda’s wrist before she reached Mrs. Bell.
He did not squeeze.
He did not shout.
He only held her hand in the air and looked at her like she had become a stranger.
“Move away from my daughter,” he said.
Lucinda’s face changed.
For the first time that night, fear cracked through her powder and diamonds.
“Salvatore,” she said softly. “You are making a scene.”
He looked down at the broken violin.
“No,” he said. “You made one.”
Everyone had gathered near the stage hallway now.
Parents.
Students.
Teachers.
The pianist.
Even the janitor stood frozen with his mop in his hand.
I wanted the floor to open.
I wanted to disappear before anyone could see me crying over splintered wood.
But my father knelt beside me.
In his black suit.
In front of everyone.
He picked up one piece of the violin and held it like it was a bone.
“Did she hurt you?” he asked.
I shook my head.
Then I nodded.
Because my shoulder hurt.
Because my chest hurt.
Because everything hurt.
“She pushed me,” I whispered.
His eyes moved to Lucinda.
Harper started crying.
Lucinda pulled her close.
“Look what you’re doing,” she hissed at me. “You always make everything about yourself.”
I stared at her.
I had heard that sentence so many times I could almost say it with her.
When I cried after Mom died.
When I practiced too loudly.
When Daddy bought me new strings.
When Harper got second chair and I got first.
Always me.
Always my fault.
Mrs. Bell crouched beside me.
“Amelia, can you stand?”
I tried.
My knees shook.
My father helped me up.
His hand was gentle on my back.
“Do you still want to play?” he asked.
I looked at the broken violin.
A fresh sob rose in my throat.
“I can’t.”
Mrs. Bell stood quickly.
“You can.”
Lucinda laughed.
“With what? Splinters?”
Mrs. Bell turned toward the stage storage room.
“I keep my own violin here.”
Lucinda’s face went pale.
“No.”
Mrs. Bell looked at me.
“It is not yours. It will feel different. But if you want that solo, it is still yours.”
The auditorium waited.
My father waited.
I wiped my face with my sleeve.
May you like
Then I nodded.
“I want to play.”
