The fallout was epic. Everyone was talking
about it. High school relationships imploded
anvuL IL. I
all the time, sometimes with parental
intervention, but it usually ended with a
tearful breakup and awkward avoidance in the
hallways. Occasionally, someone transferred
schools.
Sarah, focused on her art portfolio and
convinced she could charm her way into any
college, refused to transfer. She’d been
wronged, humiliated. Ethan, convinced he was
the one who’d caused her pain, went on a
hunger strike. He trashed his Steinway,
defying his parents at every turn.
I didn’t see him again for weeks. Then, one
night, I heard the familiar sound of the piano.
It had been silent since he and Sarah had
gotten together. The music stopped abruptly.
Minutes later, an ambulance wailed down the
stract My parents rushed out to see if they
<
street. My parents rushed out to see if they
could help. Mr. and Mrs. Miller came
stumbling out of the house, carrying Ethan.
His right hand, his piano hand, was covered in
blood, soaking through his white shirt. As they
passed, he looked at me, a strange triumph in
his eyes. “This life,” he whispered, “I live for
Sarah. Don’t get in my way, Quinn. You know
what will happen.”
I stood frozen, like I’d been hit by a stun gun.
Ethan’s fingers were shattered. Even with surgery, he’d never play like he used to. His
parents, defeated, finally gave in and let them
be together.
Ethan didn’t seem to care. He said it was
proof of his love for Sarah, a testament to his
youth. But I knew what he was throwing away.
The music he could make. the sold–out
く
concerts, the adoring crowds…it was all
gone.
They were officially a couple now. I heard
whispers of breakups and makeups, of Sarah demanding expensive gifts, of Ethan’s
parents cutting him off financially. They’d
moved in together, living off the prize money
Ethan had won over the years. I tuned it all
out, burying myself in my studies. It wasn’t easy, switching tracks, but I managed to pull
off decent grades, enough to get me into a
good college. Ethan, with his injured hand and
his neglected studies, barely scraped by.
After graduation, we had a class dinner.
Sarah and Ethan showed up. She was dressed
to the nines, all designer labels and perfectly
coiffed hair, looking way older than her years.
Ethan wore his usual white shirt, but his hair
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LuaLI
His usual wine SHIT, NUL HIS Hall
was now dyed silver, apparently Sarah’s latest
obsession.
The teachers left early, leaving us to our own
devices. The post–graduation confessions began. One of my friends, glancing at Sarah, muttered, “Look at her, dressed like she’s… well, you know. All that designer stuff can’t
hide the trashy vibe.”
Sarah, who never missed a beat, shot back,
“Jealous much? At least I have a boyfriend.
Unlike some people who resort to sneaky little
tactics.”
She glared at me. She still blamed me for
telling his parents, even though I’d told her it
wasn’t me. They were hardly discreet, though.
Everyone knew.
L
My friend bristled. “Honey, you’re the only
one who thinks Ethan’s a prize. Especially
now that he can’t even play the piano
anymore.
99
Sarah wrapped her arm around Ethan’s. “So
what? He’s got the looks. He can make a killing in Hollywood. You nerds will be working
dead–end jobs while he’s raking in the
dough.” She turned to Ethan, her voice
dripping with fake sweetness. “Kiss me,
Ethan.”
He glanced at me, a flicker of something in his eyes. “Not here, Sarah. Too many
people.”
She laughed, a nasty, sharp sound. “What?
You’re all over me when it’s just us, but now
L
that Quinn’s here, you’re too shy?”
Ethan frowned. Before he could respond, I
stood up. “Sarah, this is a class dinner, not
your bedroom. If you want to make out, go
somewhere else. And leave me out of it.”
