Chapter 1, contd (2)

Phoebe came to my room before the dinner bell. At Vernier College, each dorm is equipped with a dinner bell that rings at exactly six-thirty. All classes end by five, but my last finished at four fifteen, so I practiced in my abandoned dorm while my roommates put their heads together in the hallway trying to plan a mission trip to Bolivia. My hand was busy trying to twist itself into fourth position. My instrument made me ache. The stress of holding it up was too much for me -- I felt the pressure of it everywhere on my body. Even the music was incidental, a strangled cry for something I could not name and was not doing correctly. When I was interrupted I put down my instrument and waited for the instant wave of relief.

Phoebe bounced on her heels. If she could, she would have dragged me from the room.

Are they serving eggplant parmesan? I asked.

Eggplant parmesan was the usual reason for Phoebe's excitement; little else motivated her to do anything. She rhapsodized about food a little less than she did the Lord, but I understood. If I had a grandmother like hers, I might do that, too.

I put the viola back in its case and zipped it shut.

No, Phoebe said. The Langley sisters.

I smiled and shook my head.

We saw them today, remember? By Williams chapel?

(How could I forget? So that's who they were. Langley. I never heard of them, but as soon as Phoebe mentioned them I felt the power of their brand. The Langley sisters. They reminded me of amazons or the large pagan works of art that commemorated the naked female form. Maybe this was the source of my revulsion. Their sheer power and beauty.)

Oh, I said. That's who they were.

Did you read their book? Phoebe asked.

I shook my head and slung my handbag over my shoulder, ready to leave. Phoebe grabbed my hand, something she never did. She hated to touch or be touched.

Say you'll come with me, Phoebe said.

She hurried to catch up with me. Somehow I had to quash my gag reflex. I felt ill from the headache this afternoon, and the pressure. Perhaps I should not have practiced. Even the thought of the string on an under-rosined bow made my teeth tremble.

They're speaking at the chapel this evening after dinner, she said breathlessly. And I really want to go.
I never saw Phoebe this desperate about anything, not even eggplant parmesan.

Sure, I said.

As we left Greene dorm, the air reverberated with Phoebe's silent squeals.

But I was not thinking of her. I only thought of Ben, the as-yet nameless creature whose laugh stole my heart that afternoon. It seems stupid now, but I was struck. I would have done anything to see him again.