Free Revived Spirits by Julia Watts Page A

we let her keep at it for awhile because she seemed to enjoy it. At group recitals, her teacher would slip a cardboard tube from a roll of toilet paper under the bridge of her strings and tell her it was a ‘special way for her to play’. She never caught on. When the teacher couldn’t take it any longer, we talked Frederica into focusing her talent on the piano.”
    He sighed as Chopin grew louder and more tortured. “Which, I must say, she plays beautifully on pitch, thanks to our piano tuner.” He blinked, refilled his mug with tea, and stood up. “Lovely to meet you, but I’d better retreat to my office and get some work done.”
    Liv had cringed along with everyone else at the banging. Still, you had to wonder if her parents’ complete honesty might be a little hard for Frederica to take.
    The afternoon hadn’t been a success. The only Havard who wanted to be friends with her was Baxter. McGinty didn’t like her much. Mr. and Mrs. Havard were nice enough, but they were grownups.
    Then there was Frederica. A total disaster. She was no one Liv would ever pal around with by choice, but it irritated her that she didn’t get to make the choice. Who did this girl think she was, disliking her for no reason?

Chapter Twelve

    Liv waited with the crowd for the green “Walk” signal. The traffic that screeched to a halt would hurtle down the street again in seconds, and she wanted to be clear of the double-decker bus whose tires nearly grazed the opposite curb. A few stragglers joined her on the narrow pedestrian island, just as the light went red for them. Bus, taxis, cars and a motorcycle—all shot forward at racetrack speed.
    Now the traffic came from the left, and after three days in London, the reversal seemed almost normal. Liv focused on not getting run over, but once safely across, she allowed herself the pleasure of observing everything.
    Even the broad sidewalk was interesting. Liv was making a mental Things I Like Better about America/Things I Like Better about England list, and the sidewalks had to go down on the England side. A repair crew was smoothing a bed of sand and hoisting new rectangular stones to lay in it. So much prettier than boring concrete, and ready to walk on right away.
    Mrs. Havard had called the previous evening to tell Mrs. Wescott that Liv could “pop round” today at ten. So here she was, music books in her backpack, a Mozart sonata streaming through her iPod, taking in the sights and smells of a beautiful June morning in South Kensington. The sidewalks were lined with new-leaved trees, and the azure sky was accented by row after row of tall, white stone buildings. Liv smiled at all of it.
    She passed a tiny SmartCar, parked in a pixie-sized space at the curb. Its yellow front and back were paired with black doors, and it looked like an overgrown bumblebee. She could see herself in a red one when she turned sixteen, rather than the MiniCooper that had once been part of her driving fantasy.
    Tucked alongside the music in her backpack was the box. Liv, Cal and Anthony agreed that it wasn’t safe in their rented apartment, but were at odds over who should be in charge of it. Liv had insisted it was safer with her—the dependable, responsible one. It was a lonely role to play, and neither boy had said goodbye when she left the flat.
    She rang the Havards’ front doorbell and was immediately buzzed in. The door above swung open, and down the stairs, growling at every step, came Baxter. He took his job as greeter seriously, and harrumphed like a grumpy little watchman who hadn’t been expecting to be put on duty so early.
    Liv stretched out her hand. “Hey, Baxter, how’s it going?” The stubby tail gave two polite wags, and the blunt, wet nose rubbed across Liv’s bare toes in her flip-flops. Baxter snorted and turned around to lead the way up the stairs. Two steps up, he halted, turned and leaped back to Liv. The shaggy terrier had to stand on tippaw to sniff the pocket of