The Accidentals(69)

“Well, that’s kind of cool,” somebody says.

“Is he coming to hear us?” Daria asks.

I can’t even look at Daria, because I really have no idea. I still haven’t mentioned the Belle Choir to Frederick, let alone the concert.

“But how can we write a new arrangement in two weeks?” Jessica asks.

“Don’t have to,” I say, taking the music out of my back pocket. “I did it already. It was really easy, honestly. It’s like this song wanted to be a cappella.”

This earns me another frown from Jessica. But then she says, “Let’s warm up, run through what we have, and then we’ll look at it just before we break.”

We begin by singing some arpeggios, rising a half step from one to the other. Standing in my spot—third from the right—with warm voices vibrating around me, I finally begin to feel better.

The first song we rehearse is “Fly Me to the Moon,” which is Other Jessica’s solo. I let my voice dip and soar with the others. Often during rehearsal, my mother comes to me, unbidden. I can picture Mom looking down on the half-circle of shining heads, listening to me blend my voice with the others. Standing there, concentrating on the notes, it’s possible to be sad and happy at the same time.

We’d never fought about choir. Even though Mom disapproved of my interest in Frederick, she never saw choir as the same threat. It was orderly, it was beautiful. It would look good on college applications. The school chorus had always been my middle place, where I could please everyone at once. I could hone my voice, dreaming of the day my father would hear me, and please my mother at the same time.

For ten years I’d imagined Frederick turning up to hear me sing, and in my daydreams, the fated performance was always magical, with Frederick hooting from the back row.

Now the chance to realize this weird little dream has presented itself, I’m terrified. Furthermore, if I expect him to attend, I’ll have to tell him about the jam soon.

Damn him.





When I get back after rehearsal, Jake is still lying on the couch, his computer on his stomach. I’m still a little stunned that such an attractive guy is waiting for me and not someone else. And after I’ve been such a grump.

“Hi!” I get a rush of pleasure just walking into a room where Jake is.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, hoping to sound conciliatory.

“My fun homework. I’m writing an algorithm to parse text in a string.”

“Oh, baby.” I drop my coat on the desk chair and sit on the edge of the S.L.O. next to him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was stressed out, and I took it out on you, and I’m basically a horrible person.”

He clicks his laptop shut. “Let’s hear it for rehearsal! You always come back from there happy.” He reaches around me to put the computer on the table, then he grabs the end of my scarf and begins to unwrap me. He kisses the skin he’s just exposed on my neck.

I close my eyes at the pleasant shiver it sends down my spine.

“Aurora just left, by the way,” he says. “She was meeting someone.”

“Really?” I swivel to face him. “How do you know?” Aurora has gone missing a couple of nights this semester. When I’ve asked, “Who is he?” my roommate refuses to divulge her secret. Even when I complain that it isn’t fair—that she knows everything about me—she won’t budge.

“It’s a new and fragile thing,” she explained. “I’ll tell you when I can.” And then she’d given me a devious smile before flouncing out of our room.

“Well.” Jake’s eyes dance. “She answered her phone, and then I swear she said ‘rehearsal is over?’ So the mystery lover is either in a singing group or a play.”

“Or a comedy group, or an orchestra or quartet. That doesn’t give us much to go on.”

“True,” he says, grinning. “But since she’s not here, and we are…” He leans back onto the arm of the sofa, pulling me with him. I brace my arms on either side of his head and look down into his smile, which quickly fades. I always know when Jake is going to kiss me, because his expression is solemn, as if he’s about to do something serious.

He begins slowly, with a silent question, his lips fitting softly against mine, testing my willingness. In answer, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in. He’s suspiciously minty, as if he’d been chewing gum in preparation for my return.

This is a new thing in my life—all this affection. As Jake’s kisses deepen, we’re having a wordless discussion about how much we care.

I care a lot tonight, it seems.

Jake pulls me farther down until I’m lying on top of him. I run a hand across his jaw, examining the pleasant roughness of his whiskers under my palms. We kiss, and the heat of his mouth spreads through my chest. Every point of connection between us stirs me. And there are a lot of them. He puts his hands on my hips and holds me in place.

I feel it everywhere.

Jake’s fingers slide underneath my shirt, skimming my ribcage. I can hear the lingering shimmer of a cappella music in my head, the vibrating voices still serenading me as our mouths join again and again.

At some point we roll sideways, and I end up propped against the back of the couch, my head lying on Jake’s bent arm. His kiss travels along my cheekbone and across my brow. He smooths the hair away from my face.