Free Spark by Holly Schindler

you. Like I said. Weren’t you paying attention? The Avery—that’s the theater where you’ll play—it’s just across the square from Hattie’s. And besides, I know this town better than anybody else. So I can get you there better than anybody else.”
    â€œI’m supposed to be staying—”
    â€œWith your cousins,” Dahlia finishes.
    â€œYes. My cousin, Paul. He was the old piano player. He called me last week. His brother’s sick.” Nick’s voice gains speed; he rattles on nervously. “Paul—my cousin—was called to go help the family in Oklahoma. He needed me to fill in. As pianist. At the Avery. It was a shock. My older brothers, they’re the ones who always get jobs. They’re bigger. Stronger. Even though I’m the oldest. Just graduated from high school. And you know, until just now, just this moment, I’d never once realized that I have never played in front of an audience!” He cackles. “Ha! Can you believe it? Never once! And I was so flattered, I jumped at the chance. Without ever thinking about what it would actually entail. Until just now. I never thought of it when Paul asked me. Paul. My—”
    â€œâ€”cousin,” Dahlia finishes. Her hands are still proppedon her hips and her head is tilted down, and she’s staring up at him through her eyebrows. A look of complete disbelief saturates her face. “Boy, you sure talk a lot. You gonna be okay, mister?”
    â€œWell. I suppose I should be. Shouldn’t I?”
    â€œCome on, then. I’ll take you to the Avery. Don’t worry—George will have a place where you can stash your bag during rehearsal.”
    â€œRehearsal,” Nick repeats, growing still another shade paler.
    â€œAw, don’t worry, mister. You’ll be fine. Promise.” Dahlia points toward the Avery.
    Nick takes a step in the direction Dahlia’s instructed him to take.
    â€œOne thing—” Nick says, stopping so abruptly that Dahlia crashes into his back. As they untangle themselves, he asks, “How’d you know—that I was Nick?”
    â€œBecause no one was there to meet you, and you looked like you didn’t recognize anyone else. Plus, you had that look on your face, like Verona was something brand-new. I know Verona so well, I can’t imagine it being new at all—to anybody. But, anyway—that’s how I figured it out. Really e-genious, huh?”
    â€œIngenious,” Nick corrects. “Big word for such a small girl.”
    Dahlia frowns. “Not so small,” she grumbles.
    Nick takes a deep breath. “Well, Grace? I thought you were going to show me the way.”
    â€œSay! I told you my name was Dahlia.”
    â€œNot to me, it isn’t,” Nick announces, trying to turn on some charm. But he’s sweating, and he has to fight to stand up straight beneath the weight of his bag. And nothing about him, right then, seems very charming at all. He tugs at the tie near his throat as if vying for more air. “To me, your name is Grace. Like grace notes—the smallest, sweetest notes in all of music.”
    â€œNot so small, I said. The sweet part’s maybe not bad.”
    Nick grins. Encouraged, he asks, “Shall we, Grace?” as he tries to offer her his arm.
    â€œCome on already,” Dahlia barks. “Let’s go. We’ll be late, and George depends on me.” She skips around the corner of the depot, ready to show him her favorite path to the square.
    From the audience, I shake my head as I watch Nick struggle to keep up. This guy is not exactly the Romeo I had expected. Not after all Dahlia’s bedtime stories. Skinny’s one thing. But this guy isn’t healthy. It isn’t the way I ever thought she was asking me to picture him. Up on the screen, he drops his suitcase, fights to catch his breath.
    Once she realizes she’s lost him, Dahlia backs