scribbled down his cell phone number and signed the note simply, “M.” Luckily she had made good on her decision to use up all of her iTunes credit and had downloaded Derek Delacroix’s earlier works, too. “Headed for Earth” had struck her as especially heart-wrenching. Apparently Max thought so, too.
And actually wanted to discuss it.
With her.
She heard Felix approaching from behind with Luke and Lance and quickly erased the message with her cuff, having already committed the phone number to memory.
“What up, girlfriend?” Lance greeted her.
“Not a good color on you,” Luke dug at his twin. “We’re Irish, you idiot. Our ancestors were probably Catholic priests. ‘What up, girlfriend?’ was definitely not part of their lingo.”
Lance grinned at his brother.
Portia begged off quickly, barely saying hello to any of them, signing something about “girl business” and heading for the nearest bathroom. She wasn’t sure why she had erased her message so quickly, she just knew that she didn’t want to share Max yet.
She had her phone out in a flash, her thoughts racing as she tried to think of a clever response to his note.
“ My heart the equator,
I dare you to explore,
Dive into the crater,
I promise, there’s more …”
She regretted it as soon as she hit “send.” Even if he got the reference, what kind of person would she be coming off as? Already asking him to dive into the crater of her heart? Still, this imagery had struck her so hard that it seemed instinctual to come back at him with it. So often had her silence made her feel that her own heart, though at the center of her world, was so distant to others.
She steadied her breath while an ellipsis on her iPhone indicated that he was texting her back.
“Ah—so you are a lyrical master, as I suspected. I’ve always loved those lines. Wanna have a lyrical showdown over lunch?” he wrote back. “I think I might be able to go head-to-head with you.”
Portia would have loved to have lunch with Max, but the last thing she felt like doing was bringing him over to their table for Jacqueline’s scrutiny and Luke and Lance’s crass comments. Not to mention what Felix might make of it.
On the other hand, she didn’t want to pass up an opportunity.
As if sensing her hesitation, he wrote, “Why don’t we skip the ‘lunching’ altogether? I’ll be in the music room at 11:45 a.m. Hope to see you then.”
She was intrigued by the designated locale and texted him a quick “Kk.”
Kk? What am I, twelve?
Prompted to class by the sound of the bell, Portia sat next to Felix in Chemistry and contemplated telling him about her sort-of-a-date.
Instead she passed him a note.
“Some freshman asked me if I would come help the new Lit Journal committee—soooo annoying! It will prob take up my whole lunch!”
Felix looked up at her and she detected a hint of skepticism in his eyes, but she was so excited about her covert meeting with Max that she decided to let it slide.
“Bummer,” he wrote back.
♪
The music room was Portia’s favorite spot at RPA. The school had received an anonymous endowment that outfitted the studio with every manner of instrument. A beautiful Steinway Grand sat in the center, surrounded by a string section of elegantly carved cellos, violins, and violas. Guitars, both acoustic and electrical, lined the walls of the room and horns, ranging from the saxophone to the clarinet, crowded the drum sets in the corners.
Entry to this musical Camelot required a code, just in case someone decided to make off with a brand new Gibson or an inlaid Bergonzi. Luckily Felix had charmed his dad into giving him the code, and he and Portia sometimes took refuge among the instruments, which Felix always ogled with great curiosity. She felt a twinge of betrayal when she walked into the room without him. More importantly, though, she wondered how Max Hunter had managed to gain access to the studio.
“Mr. Woods gave me the
And actually wanted to discuss it.
With her.
She heard Felix approaching from behind with Luke and Lance and quickly erased the message with her cuff, having already committed the phone number to memory.
“What up, girlfriend?” Lance greeted her.
“Not a good color on you,” Luke dug at his twin. “We’re Irish, you idiot. Our ancestors were probably Catholic priests. ‘What up, girlfriend?’ was definitely not part of their lingo.”
Lance grinned at his brother.
Portia begged off quickly, barely saying hello to any of them, signing something about “girl business” and heading for the nearest bathroom. She wasn’t sure why she had erased her message so quickly, she just knew that she didn’t want to share Max yet.
She had her phone out in a flash, her thoughts racing as she tried to think of a clever response to his note.
“ My heart the equator,
I dare you to explore,
Dive into the crater,
I promise, there’s more …”
She regretted it as soon as she hit “send.” Even if he got the reference, what kind of person would she be coming off as? Already asking him to dive into the crater of her heart? Still, this imagery had struck her so hard that it seemed instinctual to come back at him with it. So often had her silence made her feel that her own heart, though at the center of her world, was so distant to others.
She steadied her breath while an ellipsis on her iPhone indicated that he was texting her back.
“Ah—so you are a lyrical master, as I suspected. I’ve always loved those lines. Wanna have a lyrical showdown over lunch?” he wrote back. “I think I might be able to go head-to-head with you.”
Portia would have loved to have lunch with Max, but the last thing she felt like doing was bringing him over to their table for Jacqueline’s scrutiny and Luke and Lance’s crass comments. Not to mention what Felix might make of it.
On the other hand, she didn’t want to pass up an opportunity.
As if sensing her hesitation, he wrote, “Why don’t we skip the ‘lunching’ altogether? I’ll be in the music room at 11:45 a.m. Hope to see you then.”
She was intrigued by the designated locale and texted him a quick “Kk.”
Kk? What am I, twelve?
Prompted to class by the sound of the bell, Portia sat next to Felix in Chemistry and contemplated telling him about her sort-of-a-date.
Instead she passed him a note.
“Some freshman asked me if I would come help the new Lit Journal committee—soooo annoying! It will prob take up my whole lunch!”
Felix looked up at her and she detected a hint of skepticism in his eyes, but she was so excited about her covert meeting with Max that she decided to let it slide.
“Bummer,” he wrote back.
♪
The music room was Portia’s favorite spot at RPA. The school had received an anonymous endowment that outfitted the studio with every manner of instrument. A beautiful Steinway Grand sat in the center, surrounded by a string section of elegantly carved cellos, violins, and violas. Guitars, both acoustic and electrical, lined the walls of the room and horns, ranging from the saxophone to the clarinet, crowded the drum sets in the corners.
Entry to this musical Camelot required a code, just in case someone decided to make off with a brand new Gibson or an inlaid Bergonzi. Luckily Felix had charmed his dad into giving him the code, and he and Portia sometimes took refuge among the instruments, which Felix always ogled with great curiosity. She felt a twinge of betrayal when she walked into the room without him. More importantly, though, she wondered how Max Hunter had managed to gain access to the studio.
“Mr. Woods gave me the
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