chapter 25

TWO DAYS AFTER THE MUSIC video shoot, I block Dex's number, then block him on social media as well. From now on, I want nothing to do with Dex Reid. Yearning for him is a physical pain inside my body, is an endless loop of thoughts that keeps me awake at night. And I can't keep doing this to myself.

My life becomes a blur of rehearsals, concerts, and Legend of Volthorn . March slips away into April, then April into May. LA is hot now, and the city feels more hectic and chaotic than ever. I find myself enjoying it, find it cathartic to get lost in the crowds, just a nameless face.

That changes when the music video for "Ghost" comes out.

I watch it on my laptop, Margot on the table beside me, and I can't keep tears from my eyes.

It's beautifully done. From the cinematic shots to the stunning lighting and design, the music video is a piece of art .

As it approaches the end, my stomach squeezes in on itself. There Dex and I are, in bed, my legs on either side of his hips. The camera zooms in on my face as that first tear streaks down my cheek. Dex's vocals play over the scenes, so you can't hear what I say, but I can clearly read my own lips.

"Is it something I did?"

Now the camera is focused on him. Here, in my own kitchen, where I can pause the video and scrutinize every frame, I'm left wondering why his eyes look like that—pained, hollow. He's the one who pushed me away, who made it very clear that he didn't want to put a "label" on what I was to him.

And now we're nothing.

It's been long enough now that the pain shouldn't still linger, but somehow, it does, and watching the video is like digging at the wound. So I close my laptop and tell myself I won't watch it again.

Being out in the city changes after the video comes out. People recognize me. Two girls ask for a photo with me while I'm shopping for groceries at my local supermarket. Another shoves a notebook and pen into my hands for an autograph when I'm standing in line at my favorite yogurt place.

After that, I make sure never to leave the house with my hair not done. The stares and whispers become so prevalent that I start avoiding going out in public when I can. My mom says it'll die down and that I just need to give it time. I hope she's right.

Apart from my home, the orchestra is the only other place where I feel sane. Some of the musicians have asked me about playing with LGC, and one asks me to sign her violin case, but everyone else pretty much ignores me, as usual .

After rehearsal in early May, as our season is drawing to an end, Mr. Edrington reminds us of the upcoming audition for concertmistress. Even though I sit in the front row, he doesn't look at me while he says it. He's not the type to nettle, and he's already asked me about the audition; I know he's not going to ask again.

I want the spot so bad, but a wave of fear rises up in me: fear I won't do a good job, fear I'll make a fool of myself, fear I won't be a worthy leader. Then, despite the months since I last saw his face, Dex's voice comes back to me.

Sometimes quiet leaders demand even more respect... Promise me you'll audition.

And that night, in the front seat of my car, I promised Dex I'd audition. I'm not sure why I feel beholden to the promise now—he certainly didn't follow through with anything I expected of him.

I'm still turning my thoughts over when Mr. Edrington bids us a good day and everyone starts packing up and returning to the greenroom.

"You okay?" Eleanor asks from where she stands beside me. She's looking down at me with concern, and I give her a smile and a nod. "All right. See you tomorrow."

Her heels click across the stage, and then I'm left sitting there alone. The concert hall stretches out in front of me, empty and yet full of promise. The idea of putting myself out there—not just auditioning, but trying to lead the orchestra—is terrifying, but when I remember playing with LGC for the first time and filming the music video, two things I had no experience in doing, the thought of being concertmistress is a little less daunting. The fear of never trying, of watching my dream slip away because I let my worries hold me back— that's scarier than anything.

Heat rises in my chest as I look out at the empty seats and imagine the hall filled with people. This is what I've done since I graduated, since I moved to LA. The stage is home to me, and in a weird way, the orchestra is like my family. And I think my family would want me to succeed.

Before I can lose my nerve, I stand and stride directly to Mr. Edrington's office. The door is open, and he's sitting at his desk when I knock gently.

"Ms. Miller, come in."

I step into his office, my eyes sweeping across the many framed awards and accolades hanging on his walls. There's a picture of the orchestra on his desk, and there I am in the front row, right next to Eleanor, smiling but looking a bit unsure of myself.

I want to do this for that girl, for the girl who yearns for more but feels constantly weighed down by fear, by the opinions of others, by the little voice in her head that whispers "you're not good enough."

Tearing my gaze away, I level a confident look at Mr. Edrington. "I'd like to audition for the concertmistress role."