Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(7)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“Uh, yes.” He cleared his throat, looking away. “It’s good. Emily has…a special gift for making people like her.”

“You like her, then?”

“She’s just easy to be around. I think you two will be good friends.”

Did that mean I was easy to be around? And there I went again, looking for hidden meanings in words that weren’t there.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine here, Ara. You’ve already made two friends today and school has only just begun.” He smiled warmly.

That was nice of him—to say that. It felt so weird that, only half an hour ago, I was terrified to even step off the driveway, and now I was here, alone with David, and he just called himself my friend—completely tarnishing all my first impressions about this once seemingly nightmarish brown building. “Well, thanks.” I shrugged, but couldn’t contain my smile. It was a strange sensation, but for the first time in over two months, I just smiled because I wanted to.

Chapter Two

“Why are they all staring at me?” I said under my breath as we strolled through the corridor.

David just grinned, wiping his thumb across his chin.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I scowled at one of the girls, whose mouth hung open like a frog waiting for a fly. “They are staring.”

“They’ll stop in a few weeks. They’re just fascinated by anything with colour. And you are—” he smiled at my yellow dress, “—very colourful.”

Colourful? I wished I could be smaller—small enough to fit inside a locker.

“Dave, too cool for the team jacket this year? Didn’t get your name on the list.”

David jolted forward a little with the affectionate slap that guy planted on his shoulder as he passed. “I’m skippin’ out this year, man.”

“Dude. Why?”

“Tell ya later.”

“Okay, later, bro.” The guy nodded and kept walking, giving some brotherhood click of his fingers that David copied.

“Are you on the football team?” I asked.

“Not anymore.”

Okay. I looked ahead, weaving through the oncoming traffic, taking his lack of elaboration as a giant ‘None of your business’.

As we passed a few open class doors, the crowds thickened, pushing David slightly closer to me, but not quite close enough to touch. I thought about ‘accidentally’ tripping, so I’d have to catch myself against his arm, but, knowing my luck, I’d miss and end up on the floor with my skirt above my head.

“Turn here,” he said, waking me from that little daydream.

I walked with my nose tilted slightly to the roof, taking in the dim lighting and rich burgundy colour of the walls. “Why is this area so different to the rest of the school?”

“They hold concerts open to the public in that room at the end.” He pointed past the trophy cases to a set of heavy-looking double doors. “Guess they wanted to give the illusion of grandeur.”

“And parade the victories of their student body?” I nodded to the over-stuffed trophy cases.

“Yeah.” He breathed out through a smile. “Um, Mr Grant’s a bit of an exhibitionist. We tour around and enter just about every contest there is.”

“Sounds like my kind of music teacher.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, pushing on the heavy door. “He’s real loveable.”

I half laughed.

“So, we always have music class in the auditorium. Good acoustics. And more space,” he said, and as the door opened, my breath caught in my throat. “It’s much brighter in here when the House Lights are on, though.”

“Are you kidding? This room is great in the dark.” My eyes followed the long columns of steeply inclined seats, stopping on the red velvet curtains framing the stage. It reminded me instantly of ballet—with the smell of latex, chipboard and wool carpet, while the sound of feet on the floorboards over a hollow stage, if I closed my eyes, took me home again. In the aisle before the front row, students had dragged tables and chairs into a small, disorderly cluster, where they all sat, tuning their instruments or laughing and talking.

In the seconds it took to size up the group, my eyes swept past them and stopped on a long forgotten acquaintance of mine. “A piano?”

“Very observant,” David said, and I rolled my eyes at him. He laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to her.”

“Her?”

“Yep,” he said simply, and as he let go of the auditorium door, it thudded loudly behind us, making everyone look up; the shambolic wailing of their instruments stopped abruptly, leaving a dense silence as we started down the aisle. “It’s okay,” he leaned closer to whisper. “They’re not necessarily staring at you, Ara, more the fact that you’re walking with me.”

“Why? What does that matter?”

“You’re a girl.”

“I know, but…”

“Guess I just don’t really ever talk to girls.”

“Oh.” I folded my arms around myself. “Why?”

He grinned and slipped a guiding hand through the strap of my backpack, resting it just under my shoulder blade. “I uh—I don’t like any of them.”

“Oh.” I tried to laugh off the nerves, but nothing came out. All I could focus on was his touch against my cotton dress, so close to my skin.

As we neared the stage, some of the kids stood up, but their eager smiles sent my shoulders to my ears.

“Hey, guys.” David nodded his greeting, keeping his hand safely on my back. “This is Ara.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, and waved, but the forced smile probably made me look more like a troll than a friendly newcomer.

“Ah, a fellow muso.” A vertical palm appeared at my mid-section, ready to shake my hand; I looked up from his thin wrist to his sandy-blonde hair, then back down to his broad, honest grin, warmly inviting friendship.

“Um, hi.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ryan.” He shook my hand then inclined his head to a small, dark-haired girl in the corner, quietly playing her violin. “And that’s Alana.”

“Hello.” I smiled at her, but my troll face clearly scared her back into the shadows after a quick nod my way.

Ryan laughed, leaning closer. “She’s shy.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, that there is Fiona, and that’s Jess, Jay, Dan…” He rattled off names as I nodded and smiled at the faces, forgetting their names instantly. They should’ve all been called Bob—make things so much easier.