Free Consent by Nancy Ohlin Page B

maybe I do, as in, Dane feels weird about Saturday and wants to just forget about it already.
    Fine, then. I will forget about it too. I can do forgetting like nobody’s business.
    Maybe I should see if Braden wants to start hanging out again.
    When the bell rings, I gather my stuff and make a beeline for the doorway. Dane is busy erasing his composers fromthe blackboard, so I doubt he even notices. I don’t notice him either, or the beautiful deep blue of his shirt, or the fact that his stubble looks longer than usual. So we’re even.
    I pause in the hallway, not sure of where to go next. Plum has a dentist’s appointment, so I have to while away an hour or so before heading over to her house for doro wat. I don’t feel like practicing at school, because he might be around. I don’t feel like going home first, either.
    I decide to head over to Braden’s locker. I find him there leafing through a calculus textbook.
    â€œWhat’s up, Hunt?” I call out.
    He turns, and his face lights up. He closes the textbook and stuffs it into his backpack. “Hey, Bea. What are you doing in this neck of the woods? Isn’t your locker in C wing?”
    â€œNo, D wing. I’m between Joshua Kidman and Kyle King, who need to work on their personal hygiene and also lose the almost-porn taped to their locker doors. Don’t you have orchestra now?”
    â€œThey made orchestra an official class. Third period. Mr. R has us working on the New World Symphony, which is not fun.”
    â€œHmm.” I picture Dane leading fifty or so not-very-talented students in Dvořák. With the exception of Braden, Lianna, and a few others, the music kids at A-Jax aren’t toomusical, despite the whole “Campus for Baccalaureate and Performing Arts” business.
    â€œBea?”
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œI said, what do you think of our trio?”
    â€œUm, yeah, it’s fine. It’s great! I haven’t decided if I’m staying with it or not, though.”
    â€œYou have to stay.”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m pretty busy.”
    â€œYou’re an amazing pianist. Amazing, understatement. How long have you been studying?”
    â€œSince forever.”
    â€œYeah, well, obviously. Who’s your teacher?”
    I start to say Mrs. Lugansky, then stop myself. “I’m kind of between teachers right now.”
    â€œAre you applying to conservatories for next year? Maybe we could compare notes. Did you know that the New England Conservatory has double-degree programs with both Tufts and Harvard? That’s cool, right?” Braden peers over my shoulder. “Oh, hey, Mr. R, we were just talking about you.”
    I whirl around. Dane is standing there.
    â€œGood afternoon, Braden,” he says, but he is looking at me. “Beatrice, are you free? Could I speak to you?”
    Oh. So I guess he’s not avoiding me anymore. “Actually, I’m on my way out. I was just heading over to my locker,” I fib.
    â€œWhy don’t I meet you at the D wing exit, then? Say, five minutes? I’ll dash over to my office and get my coat. I won’t keep you.”
    He knows where my locker is. “Um . . . sure.”
    Braden’s gaze bounces between Dane and me. He seems confused, which makes two of us—possibly three.
    Thinking quickly, I smile at Braden and touch his arm. “I’ll catch you later, okay? Maybe we can grab a coffee or something?”
    I notice Dane noticing my hand and feel a stupid rush of pleasure.
    â€œSure, anytime. You’d better be there tomorrow,” Braden says, also staring at my hand.
    â€œTomorrow?”
    â€œYou know, rehearsal? Our trio? Please convince her to stay, Mr. R.”
    â€œYes, of course. Beatrice, I’ll see you over there in a few minutes.”
    â€œOkay.”
    Dane takes off down the hall. I take off in the other direction, toward the D wing, wondering