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Yeah, can you imagine? I can barely stand sharing a mansion with the guy; can you picture us in a
tour bus? And his drummer is kind of a weirdo. She pauses to take a breath. But, hey, I m guessing
you haven t checked your email yet. Considering you re Sleeping Beauty and all.
Who?
Never mind. Anyway, check your email. I think I ve found the perfect song for our duet. I sent you
the music.
Give me a minute. I open my email app. Other than the welcome packet that came from the school at
the beginning of the year, her message is the only one in my inbox. I open the file she s sent and
peruse it, glad I d used a YouTube video to learn how to read music since my first lesson with her.
This is good, I say, imagining the sounds of the notes as I read them.
It s Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova from one of my favorite movies. It s
the first duet I thought of, but after looking at several others, I think it s the best option.
I read over the words. Imagining the lyrics with the notes evokes an uncertain, wanting ache in my
chest. It s perfect.
It s going to take a lot of practice, she says. Are you up for spending that much time with me over
the next couple of weeks?
Yes, I say.
At this moment, there s nothing I want more.
chapter forty-two
daphne
The next couple of weeks are pretty much a blur. Between homework, sitting in on a second round of
auditions to help Joe and Mr. Morgan select the other principal roles for the spring musical I make
sure to put in a good word for Lexie for the role for Persephone, not only because of the truce we
made, but because she actually deserves the part and rehearsing with Haden every afternoon and
lunch break, I am shocked when I realize that Thanksgiving is already upon us.
Thankfully, Joe decides not to cook Thanksgiving dinner himself, and instead, we join a couple of his
bandmates for a private party at Bobby Rox s restaurant. The food is divine, but to my surprise, I
enjoy the company. Bobby and his wife, Elle, have the cutest daughter, and Chris Trip, the band s
bassist has everyone in stitches over his impersonations of Mr. Fitzgerald, their overly chipper
manager.
When Joe passes up the Thanksgiving champagne and opts for the cranberry juice mixed with Sprite
concoction that I order for myself from the kitchen, Bobby slaps Joe on the back and says, You ve
been a good influence on our ole boy here, Daphne!
Hear, hear! agrees Chris. I thought Joe could write his way out of a bottle of Jack Daniel s, but
he s even better sober. Those songs he s writing for your school play are amazing.
They are good, aren t they? I say. The couple I ve practiced in class with Tobin have blown me
away.
Joe smiles down at his plate.
Yeah, Bobby says. I haven t seen that level of passion in your work since Shadow of a Star.
The band is thinking of recording an album of all the songs from the musical, Chris says. Oi, I
know, Daphne should record one of the tracks with us!
Brilliant! Joe says.
What? I say, almost spilling my fizzy cranberry juice.
I love it, Bobby says. Joe showed us a couple of recordings he made during your class rehearsals
the other day. You re fantastic.
I blush, pressing my lips together.
What do you say, Daphne? Joe asks. At least one song. You can t say no to an opportunity like
that.
Won t your manager have a cow? I ask.
Leave that to us, Chris says, flexing his muscles. We ll strongarm him into it.
Come on, Daph, say yes, Joe implores.
Singing a song on a real live rock album? One that is almost guaranteed to go platinum? The idea both
thrills me and terrifies me at the same time. But does Joe really want me on his album, or is this just
another one of those promises he uses to make himself feel better?
If it were anyone else asking, I d say yes in a heartbeat.
I think about what Lexie said about my being an idiot for not wanting Joe s help. And then what
Haden said about how I should give him another chance at being my father while I still have the
opportunity.
Okay, I say, and the band cheers.
Later that night, as we say good-bye to everyone, Bobby s wife, Elle, takes both Joe and I by the
hand. You re a lucky man, Joe, she says. I can only hope our little Samara grows up to be like
Daphne. She s absolutely perfect.
Joe is quiet the whole way home after that. I can only hope he hasn t decided that he s made a big
mistake.
The day after Thanksgiving is the big Light-up Olympus Festival to celebrate the turning on of holiday
lights in Olympus Hills. Which also means it s the day of the big music showcase that Haden and I
have been preparing for.
To be honest, I ve pretty much back-burnered Tobin s investigation until I get an urgent SOS. Meet me at
the docks in twenty, text from him only an hour and a half before the festival is about to begin. I finish
fixing my hair and put on the new outfit that Joe let me pick out from Bloomingdale s and head to the
lake on my bike to meet him.
I pace the floating dock, the wood creaking under my steps, the whole structure rocking slightly under
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