Making friends with Jennifer Banks seemed like a good idea. When she learned that Jennifer belonged to the drama club, Rose had arranged to meet up with her and go to the auditions on Wednesday.
At least, that’s what Rose thought they’d arranged. As she stood by the main entrance after the crowds had gone, looking up hopefully every time someone passed, she wondered if she’d been misunderstood yet again. Despite the compliments she’d received on her accent, Rose found she was often obliged to repeat herself, speaking more slowly and loudly than came naturally. It was too embarrassing, always to be asking someone what they’d said. Maybe, in the noisy cafeteria, Jennifer hadn’t understood her suggestion, and had simply nodded and smiled to be polite.
The hall was empty. It was obvious Jennifer wasn’t coming, for whatever reason. She’d just have to go along on her own, maybe see Jennifer there. Trying not to feel hurt, Rose set off briskly down the hall.
Unfortunately, she’d forgotten the room number. As she turned the corner, she caught a distant strain of music, and followed her ears.
Someone was singing in the auditorium. A sign had been propped against the double doors: AUDITIONS IN PROGRESS. Could this be the drama club?
The voice was a tenor, achingly sweet. She didn’t recognize the song, but the beauty of it made her shiver. She wanted to hear it more clearly. She opened the door and went in.
On the stage beside the piano stood Farren Wiles.
Rose’s jaw dropped. Farren was so unprepossessing, so small, weedy and badly dressed. It seemed impossible that he could have such an angelic voice.
When the song ended, there was silence. Then Farren grinned his gap-toothed grin, and there was murmuring and applause. Rose noticed then that there were thirty or forty students sitting in the front rows.
‘Thank you, Farren,’ said the teacher in charge, and Farren took two long steps to the edge of the stage and leaped off, his arms flailing wildly. A girl shrieked, and there was an outburst of laughter from the audience.
The teacher held up his hands. ‘All right, all right, calm down. Farren, you do that again and you’re canned, voice or no voice. Comprende?’
‘Yes, sir, I read you, sir. I just forgot myself for a minute there, sir; thought I could fly on the wings of song, I guess.’
Rose giggled. Some of the students were roaring. The teacher looked around as if for help, and caught sight of Rose. ‘You at the back,’ he called. ‘Come on down here and take a seat. You’re in the right place.’
Rose wasn’t sure about that, but there was too much noise to argue, and, now that she had been seen, she couldn’t retreat without an explanation, so she walked down the centre aisle and took the end seat in the last empty row.
‘Olivia Mason, we’ll hear you next.’
Olivia was wearing an ivory silk T-shirt and a short black skirt. Serene and self-possessed she walked in front of everyone up the steps to the stage, and handed a sheet of music to the pianist.
After Farren’s performance, probably anyone would have been a disappointment, but Rose had to admit that, whatever Olivia’s other strengths, singing was not one of them. She could carry a tune – although some of the notes sounded rather flat – but her voice was rather weak; at its best it was only ordinary. Rose wondered if Olivia knew how she sounded.
When she had finished there was a smattering of applause. Olivia looked uncertainly at the teacher. ‘Was that all right, Mr Timmins?’
‘That was just fine, Olivia.’ Mr Timmins looked at his list, then up and around. ‘Where’s that new girl?’
Timidly, Rose put up her hand.
‘Yes, you. What’s your name?’
‘Rose Durcan.’
‘Well, Rose, let’s hear you sing.’
‘I … actually, I was looking for the drama auditions.’
‘Well, you’ve found your way to mixed chorus instead. Why not make the best of it?’
Olivia, who had just descended from the stage, looked directly at her and smiled a teasing challenge. ‘Oh, go on. You’re bound to be better than me. If I’m not scared to sing in public …’
This caused a ripple of laughter. Rose stood up. In fact, she enjoyed singing, although she seldom had an audience. And her grandmother would be pleased. ‘I don’t have any music with me,’ she said.
‘Well, have a word with Mr Miller. You should be able to come up with something that both of you know.’
There was no time for nervousness. Rose marched up to the stage, accepted Mr Miller’s first suggestion, and positioned herself. She breathed in and out deeply, shutting her eyes, getting centred, and then she was ready. She gave herself up to the song, and nothing else mattered.
When she was through, though, her legs were wobbly. She thought she understood why Farren had jumped off the stage: better just to take the big fall and get the uncertainty over with.
‘Thank you, Rose,’ said Mr Timmins. ‘Fill this out, would you? We’ll be making the selections over the next few days, and you’ll get a letter in your home room on Monday if you’ve been chosen.’
‘Thank you.’ She felt rather dazed. She turned to go up the aisle towards the door, and sensed someone fall into step beside her. It was Olivia.
‘You have a wonderful voice. You’re sure to make the selection. It’ll be good to have you in the chorus.’
‘Oh, thank you! You were good, too.’
Olivia gave her a friendly smile. ‘I know I wasn’t, but I’ll get into the chorus anyway, for my second year, for the simple reason that my grandmother would raise hell if I didn’t. And we also serve who only stand and hum. We can’t all be soloists, like Farren.’
‘I’ve heard that your grandmother is very proud of your singing.’
‘I wish she’d stick to bragging about the things worth bragging about,’ said Olivia, making a face. ‘I assume you heard about that from your grandmother?’
Rose nodded.
‘Welcome to Duckett Green, where the grandmothers rule,’ said Olivia, and they both laughed.
‘Do you want a lift home?’ Olivia added. ‘I’ve got my car.’
‘Oh, thanks, but Gran’s picking me up in front of the school in about …’ Rose looked at her watch and grimaced. ‘Forty minutes.’
‘Why don’t you call her? Tell her I’m fetching you home. I’ve got a phone in my car.’
‘Well … are you sure? Wouldn’t it be out of your way? I’m staying out on Wishbone Creek.’
‘I know where you stay – you’re Maddy Simmons’ prodigal granddaughter. I don’t even need directions how to get there. If it was a bother, I wouldn’t be offering. I’ve got a new car, and I love to drive it. And it’ll give us a chance to talk. I’ve just been so curious about you since the moment you appeared in French class. Where did you get that accent?’
‘Actually, we lived in France for a couple of years …’
‘I wasn’t talking about your French accent, honey – ha, gotcha!’ Olivia laughed. ‘Come on, let’s go make that call.’
*
Orson watched Olivia follow the new girl out of the auditorium. He was disappointed that she wouldn’t hear him sing the song he’d especially chosen for her, but he was also intrigued. Had Olivia found a friend? For nearly a year he’d been observing her and she was a solitary figure. Without being snobbish or unfriendly, she was set a little apart from the other girls. Everyone knew her, but no one really did. He’d been watching with his usual devoted attention and had seen the way she looked at Rose. All of a sudden, he was curious about this Rose Durcan. What was it about her which had caught Olivia’s interest?
After the auditions Orson walked home with Farren, who had waited for him. He asked Farren what he knew about Rose.
‘You’re in with a chance,’ said Farren instantly. ‘All you’ve got to do is ask her.’
Orson drew himself up, offended. ‘Cut it out, man. I’m not interested. You should know.’
‘If you ain’t interested, why you asking?’
‘Simple curiosity. She’s not from around here, and Olivia was acting friendly towards her.’
‘And you got to know the reason for every move Olivia makes? Maybe her granny asked her to be nice to her old friend Maddy Simmons’ granddaughter.’
‘Oh, that’s who she is! Her Mom went away to college and married some English guy. I wonder what she thinks of us here, after living abroad?’
‘Why don’t you ask her yourself? Talk to her. Take her out Saturday night. I’ll bet you five dollars she wouldn’t say no if you asked her to go out with you.’
Orson gave his friend a pained look. ‘Plenty of girls would go out with me if I asked them. That’s not my problem.’
‘I know what your problem is, man.’
‘I’m just not interested in anybody but Olivia, OK? It’s that simple. I can’t make myself be.’
‘No, but maybe Olivia would be more interested in you if it looked like somebody else was. If you were otherwise engaged, instead of always being on your own, looking at her with your doggy eyes, just waiting for her to whistle.’
‘No, man. It wouldn’t be fair to her – to Rose – to use her like that.’
‘Asking somebody to the pictures isn’t the same as promising never to look at another woman. If you think it’d be too intense, tell her it’s a group thing. I could meet you there, and …’ he paused, and then added, very casually, ‘and you could bring along one of your sisters. What do you say? Six flicks to choose from at the mall. Saturday night.’
‘I can’t. I’m busy Saturday night. I’ve got to fight a duel.’
Farren was not, despite Orson’s efforts, a computer person. But he was still Orson’s best friend, and informed about Orson’s adventures in cyberspace.
‘Come in for a while?’ asked Orson.
‘I guess I’ll have to.’
Passing through the kitchen, Orson snagged two cold cans of soda from the fridge and a giant-sized bag of corn-chips from the cupboard.
‘Hey, don’t eat too many of those; dinner’s in less than an hour,’ said his mother, setting a pot of water on the stove. ‘Farren, you’re welcome to stay; there’s plenty.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, but I have to go home soon – it’s my turn to cook tonight.’
When they were in Orson’s room with the door closed Farren said, ‘So how do you decide who wins this duel? I mean, it sounds like one of our kids’ games of cowboys and Indians.’
Orson remembered their childhood arguments about who or where an imaginary arrow or bullet had struck. ‘It’s not like that. If it was an ordinary role-playing game we’d roll dice. Instead, the computer does – but more effectively, because it figures in our relative strengths. Unfortunately, I don’t know her skill-levels, but they are probably pretty high; she wouldn’t have chosen unarmed combat unless she was a master. I stayed up late last night trying to add to my experience points so I could increase my skill-level, but that’s pretty hopeless, really. My character is a big strong guy, and if I could get hold of the CyberQueen I could probably crush her, but she’s not likely to let me. I’ve got to think up some other way of avoiding ignominious defeat. Like magic. If I could think of a really good spell, and then bribe somebody into casting it on her …’
‘Is that allowed?’
Orson rolled his eyes. ‘Illyria’s not a police state. Anything’s allowed, if you can figure out a way of doing it.’
‘No, but you must have rules and things. Like she got to choose the weapons. Couldn’t she have chosen magic spells? Presumably she won’t decide to turn into a dragon and fry you to a crisp with her breath?’
‘She wouldn’t be very popular if she did. But if I tried to pull some magic stunt on her first, I’m not sure how that would go over …’ Orson sighed unhappily. ‘I guess I should stick to the terms we agreed. And if that means Count Orsini gets both his arms and legs broken, I’ll just have to deal with it.’
There was a knock at the door. Farren, who had been lounging on the floor, sprang to his feet. Orson gave him a look of mild surprise, did not move himself, and called out in a bored voice, ‘You may enter.’
It was, as he’d expected, one of his sisters: Jennifer.
‘Can I borrow your French dictionary?’
‘Sure.’ He inclined his head in the direction of his desk. ‘Just there.’
‘Thanks.’ She looked at Farren, standing bolt upright as if at attention, and smiled at him. ‘Hi, Farren.’
He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but didn’t say anything.
Jennifer picked up the book and went out. ‘Thanks,’ she said again. ‘Bye, Farren.’
Farren nodded, speechless. Orson looked at him speculatively. ‘When you suggested I should bring one of my sisters along to make up a group, was it by any chance my sister Jennifer you had in mind?’
Farren sighed gustily, as if he’d been holding his breath, and sank in a heap on the floor like a deflated balloon.
*
‘I’ve always wanted to meet you,’ said Olivia.
Rose looked at the beautiful blonde girl driving the car so confidently, and felt a tremor of unreality.
‘Why?’ Then, more suspiciously, ‘How could you have?’
Olivia chuckled. ‘You don’t believe me. All right, you never heard of me before you started at Livingston-Duckett High School. But I’d heard of you. Your gran is one of Nanny’s closest friends. Some old ladies tell their grandchildren fairy tales; mine always told me stories about the people she knew. Gossip and local history: those were my bedtime stories. So I heard all about your mom’s scandalous elopement.’
‘Scandalous?’ Rose was fascinated; she’d never heard such a word associated with her parents. Certainly the way they’d talked about their own lives, pre-Rose and Simon, struck her as pretty dull. ‘Why? Was she engaged to somebody else first? Chris wasn’t married before?’
Olivia laughed again, a sound Rose already liked. ‘Oh, no, nothing like that. Maybe scandalous is too harsh a word, and nobody but Nanny disapproved of the marriage. But she was bound to. To her way of thinking, anybody lucky enough to be born in Locust County ought to have the good sense to stay here. It was bad enough that your mother had to marry an outsider – although an Englishman is better than a Yankee; since the Ducketts can trace their family tree back to the middle ages in England, we’re all kind of Anglophiles – but that she should actually go and live in somewhere other than here, and allow her children to be born and raised in a foreign country … well!’
‘Does my grandmother feel like that?’
‘Probably. Most of the people around here, not just the old folks, but all the ones who are comfortably off, can’t understand why anyone would ever want to leave. They don’t have any interest in the rest of the world, not even for a vacation. But I’m different. I mean to see the world, and make an impact outside of Duckett Green.’ Olivia gave a short little nod, then turned her head to flash a dazzling smile at Rose. ‘Now. Tell me about England!’
‘Do you want the one minute or the ten minute version?’
‘Oh, both, please, and the uncensored, three-hour director’s cut, too. I’m sorry, what a dumb question! I’m just so curious, though, and I’ve never been anywhere out of state except North Carolina, Tennessee, and Washington, D.C.’
‘Well, I’ve never been to any of those places, but I’ve lived in France and Wales and several different parts of England.’
‘Oh, darn, I guess I’m not going to hear very much about any of them today – here’s the turn-off to Wishbone Creek.’
The journey had gone too swiftly for both of them. ‘Why don’t you come in for a while?’
‘Thanks, I wish I could, but I have to get back. I will just run in and say how-do to Mrs Simmons, because Nanny’d tear a strip off me if I didn’t …’ As Olivia finished speaking, she parked the car neatly in the driveway.
‘You drive really well.’
‘Well, thank you!’
‘Have you had the car for long?’
‘Two months. It was a present for my seventeenth birthday. Before that I had an old clunker. Do you drive?’
‘Oh, no. I’m just fifteen.’
Olivia snorted. ‘That’s no excuse. I learned how to drive when I was thirteen. I’ll teach you if you like.’
Rose felt her jaw drop. ‘You mean it?’
‘Sure.’ Olivia gazed intently into her eyes for a moment. ‘We’re going to be friends, honey. Don’t look so surprised. Now let’s go inside and pay our courtesies.’