“Oh my God,” I mouthed. “Oh my God!”

Soundlessly screaming, I opened the door to the auditorium, sliding inside to crouch in the last row. All the house lights were up, but there were a lot of lookie-loos, and not one head turned to see who had popped in. They were all staring forward.

Watching Oscar Bell conduct his own symphony.

It was the theme he’d played me, but hearing it on my piano had been like watching that single light shoot up in the sky before the fireworks go off. Now they had exploded, unexpected colors, a million new directions, and I was stunned. I didn’t know where this chair, this floor, this hall ended and I began.

I only knew, with absolutely certainty, how I felt about the composer.

The second theme came in. The Romantic theme, Dad had called it. I held my breath, listening to it tease and hide and caress the first theme, heal it like balm on a livid burn. It felt like a whispered message meant only for me.

But then, from my hiding spot behind a row of seats, I saw who was playing it. First violin. She was standing up, watching Oscar as she drew out the notes with her bow, piercing in their beauty and longing. It was gorgeous enough to make you believe she was feeling it. That he was too.

The orchestra swelled with a syncopated march beat that I picked out as the sound of the subway, the swoosh and stop and sway and stop. But my eyes kept darting between Oscar, his broad back, hair bobbing, arms flying, and that violinist, playing so beautifully. She was astonishing.

She was impaling my heart with every note.

The strings rose for a bar, then Oscar waved his hands and dropped them and everybody stopped.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Oscar shouted. “That was great, but if you can get to that fire, that”—he made a loose fist—“oomph by bar twenty, it’ll make that pizzicato more jarring. Does that make sense?”

The string section laughed and nodded. A man—Reinhardt, the regular orchestra director—tapped his watch from the side of the stage with an indulgent smile, and Oscar straightened as if startled.

“Ah crap, that’s it! That’s all we have time for tonight, thank you guys so much, this has been amazing. Will be amazing.”

He put down his baton and the orchestra settled, starting to chat. I shrunk into a seat, wondering whether to escape now or continue my recon. The violinist beelined for Oscar as he stepped away from the podium and that made the decision for me.