Page 69 of Divine Oaths

I swallowed, looking away from her. “I already know the basics you’re going over.”

“So you’re saying my class is a waste of your time?”

“No, it’s not. I’m still getting used to playing in front of people again.”

Yet even as I said that, I remembered being with Kasem at his family’s piano, how we’d sat side by side and played together. In the rare times I’d played since the fire, it’d been mechanical, like my muscles needed to stretch. But being with Kasem, laughing and playing together, had reminded me of what I’d loved about music. How light it could make me feel, how joyful and free. And then there was that indescribable feeling of playing in front of someone and seeing them be moved by your song.

There was a difference, I realized, in playing because I could or had to, and playing because without music, my heart beat in empty silence.

Professor Enlex watched me with a cool gaze.

“I want you out of my class,” she said.

“What?”

“You don’t do your assignments or put in effort during my class, so I cannot grade you or judge your progress. Your form already exceeds that of an introductory course, and I will not have you holding back your classmates here because they’re distracted by your lack of attendance or disengagement from our coursework.”

“I can do the assignments if you want,” I said. “I’ll fill out my practice sessions and I’ll stay in class. I just can’t play right now. Not in front of everyone.” I cupped my palms, outlining the burn marks on my fingers as if showing her might change anything.

“No,” Professor Enlex said.

“No,” I breathed in disbelief.

“You are a problem for a more advanced piano course. Not my introductory one. You can test out and be placed in Piano II. That is what I recommend. I’ll have the teacher’s assistant email you instructions and the scheduling of when the tests are, but I don’t want to see you in my class again.”

I stood, searching for words or a way to change her mind, but I could tell by the dismissive look she gave me that she wasn’t persuaded.

When I packed my things and left the room, Professor Enlex waited for me by the door.

“You should be honored,” she said. “It’s not often that I tell my first-year students they’re too skilled for my course. You’ll be a great performer one day.”

“I already was one,” I said. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

She shook her head, tsking as she closed the door behind me.

“That, Sianna, would be a shame. For your talents, for this school, for music. But I won’t try and convince you. I just hope a more challenging course can keep your attention better than mine ever could.”

She left then, and I watched her retreating figure, cursing myself for not just doing the bare minimum and attending class.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

To die upon a kiss

I WAS SUPPOSED TO MEET Vivian and Luke on the main campus for lunch the next day. Luke and I had a morning class, though different ones, and Vivian’s schedule finished with only one evening class since she’d been well into her degree before she’d died. She insisted that, even though she was dead, she enjoyed auditing classes, especially ones where new faculty didn’t recognize her.

The dining hall was vast and brimming with students. Local restaurants had satellite locations where they served food from different parts of the country and across continents. Lines curved from corner to corner with most of the STEM and business school students crammed at a spot serving fusion food. Arts and humanities students, identifiable by their colorful clothes and hair, grabbed to-go boxes or ventured to the dock where the hourly fan boat commuted students to and from the closest town, a few miles away.

After I grabbed a ready-made order of fusion food with the dining credits that my tuition covered, I joined Vivian and Luke near the second entrance of the dining hall.

They were already halfway through their meals. Luke scarfed down pizza and fries while Vivian paged through Luke’s notebook, the two of them in the midst of an animated conversation.

“Why won’t you just show me?” Vivian asked. “I won’t judge you.”

“You’re already judging me. See? You can’t even look me in the eye now.”

I sat next to Vivian, tearing open the take-home packet with a disposable fork and spoon. Except for the fact that they were destroying the planet, disposable utensils were amazing. They didn’t have memories seeping into their surfaces like reusable ones did. I started digging into the rice and chicken. Both were cold, but tasty in a way that reminded me of Saturday afternoons bingeing TV shows with Jojo while he filled out job applications.

“He’s joining a frat,” Vivian said, answering a question that, mind you, I hadn’t asked.