The phone starts ringing again. The sound echoes in my large, lonely room. That has to be a reporter. Nobody I know would be that persistent.
I realize it could possibly be CeCe. I’d left her three messages since I’d gotten here, telling her to call me back on this number.
I reach for the phone, and another possibility hits me. Another person might know this number. Someone who might have picked up my bag in the grove and who now has my cell phone—and all my contact listings—in their possession …
The phone’s shrill ring makes me jump. Despite my better judgment, I pick up the receiver.
“Hello?” I ask tentatively.
“Daphne?” says a male voice on the other end, and my shoulders relax so much at the syncopated, friendly tone that accompanies it that I almost forget I’m mad at him.
“Tobin,” I say, trying not to show too much relief in my voice.
“You’re a hard bird to get ahold of,” he says. “I would have come by your house to see you in person, but I’m kind of grounded. Also, I was worried you might slam the door in my face.”
“You deserve both the grounding and the door slamming,” I tell him.
“Yeah. I know.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I say, brushing my hand over my cheek. “But I might hang up on you if you don’t tell me what you thought you were doing in the cafeteria. That Haden guy might be dangerous. Why would you try to take him on like that?”
I would never have confided in him that I think Haden Lord is the guy from the grove if I’d thought that would cause Tobin to go after him. It hadn’t crossed my mind that a guy like Tobin would try to pick a fight. I might expect something like that from a stereotypical jock or something, but starting a confrontation seemed so against Tobin’s nature. But then again, I’d known him for only a couple of days. I’d assumed he was like CeCe because they share a similar inner song, but maybe I don’t know as much about his nature as I thought.
And the fact that this Haden guy hadn’t even tried to fight back when Tobin attacked made me question—ever so slightly—if my assumptions about him had been incorrect, too.
“I’m sorry,” Tobin says. “I wasn’t planning on starting anything with him, but it’s like I saw him and something came over me.” I hear strange notes coming off him—the same low, cold tone I’d noticed in music class. Right before he was about to confide in me.
“Does this have something to do with what you were going to tell me before?” I ask him.
“Yes. It’s just that …” Tobin trails off, and I hear someone else’s voice in the background. “Yeah, Mom. In a minute,” he says away from the receiver. “I’ve got to go, Daph. I’m not supposed to be on the phone.”
“It’s just what?” I ask before he can hang up, my curiosity edging into my voice. “You can’t say something like that and not finish. Again.”
“You’re still coming to the party Friday night?” he asks.
For half a second, I don’t know what he’s talking about, and then I remember that he was in the middle of inviting me to a party for the music department when we discovered Pear Perkins in the lake. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not. Are you still coming?”
“Your mom is still having the party?” I thought she might cancel, considering what had happened to one of the invitees.
“She’s even more determined to throw it after what happened to Pear. She thinks it will be nice for the music department to come together and collectively send their goodwill vibes to Pear. That and she already paid the caterer. Besides, she wants to meet my costar.”
“I don’t know.…” The last thing I feel like doing is celebrating my part in the play, and considering Tobin is the only one in the music department who is willing to talk to me, I’m pretty sure everyone else probably feels the same way. But then again, since Tobin is the only one of them still acknowledging my existence, it might not be the best idea to alienate him by not accepting his invitation.
“Come, okay?” Tobin whispers into the phone. “I’m suspended through Friday, so I won’t get a chance to see you until then.”
“You’re still trying to change the subject.”
“The subject is the reason I want you to come. I need to show you something.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. But this had better be worth the wait.”
“It is,” he says, and hangs up.
Chapter twenty-five
HADEN
“A party?” I ask Dax as he pulls a glossy pair of shoes from a box and sets them in front of me. “Are you sure this is the best next step?” It has been four days since I have seen Daphne. Four long, mind-numbing days in which I have been forced to stay inside Simon’s house while on suspension, and now Dax wants my second sanctioned excursion into the world to be at a party. “And while wearing this around my neck? I’ll look like a fool,” I say, tugging at the long, striped length of cloth that he has tied so tightly around my collar, it feels like a noose.
Dax swats my hand away and fixes the knot I’ve loosened. “Everyone will be wearing ties. This is the party of the year.”
Simon worked his magic, or pulled some strings, or whatever it is he does, and managed to procure me an invitation to the mayor’s party—along with a spot in Olympus Hills High’s coveted music program. But I don’t know which one makes me more anxious at the moment: the thought of pretending to belong in a music class or the idea of going to a human party. I have been trained in the art of combat, not in singing, dancing, and making small talk with teenage girls.
“Someone really needs to make a few adjustments to Master Crue’s lesson plans,” I say, slipping my feet into the stiff shoes. “I have no idea what I am doing.”
“Just play it cool,” Dax says.
He has forced me to don a pair of dark gray slacks and a white button-up shirt. Contrary to his protests, I have pushed the sleeves of the shirt up past my elbows, but I make sure the scars on my arm, which spell out Daphne’s name, are covered. I feel overly warm and suffocated in these clothes. “I don’t understand. You want me to pretend to be cold?” I fake a shiver. “Like this? What’s the point?”