Chapter 77

He expected it to be Paul or Ethan, or even one of the other string students to tell him what he had been called in his absence by the ever-touchy Mr. Weber, but it was Jayden’s picture that lit up the screen, and he skated his thumb across one new message with a mingled sense of dread and hope.

When was he ever going to stop hoping that this would go away?

Are you all right?

It was nearly half past five. Jayden would be at the drama rehearsal, and it never lasted its allotted time on Fridays.

Fine, he replied and hauled himself off the bed again. Jayden didn’t know this either. He thought he did, but he didn’t. He’d never seen it, never seen the shadows under his eyes or the way he had to keep rubbing his thumb and fingers together, to check they were there. He’d take playing over the numbness. He’d take the empty shells of Vivaldi’s concerti, take his mind spiralling away into the notes until there was nothing left to wonder why it felt so wrong, over this…this…ache