His eyes were closed. “That’s great, keep going.”

Knowing he was in the clouds while I stayed down here made this easier. I curled my legs under me and sang with more confidence, letting my voice fill the room, hesitating a few times on notes that at first felt peculiar and then, upon hearing them, perfectly conceived—flowers bursting from branches.

It paralleled the Cloisters theme. That through-line wasn’t written out here, but I had a hunch this vocal piece would work in tandem, choir and the orchestra dancing around each other before the Latin notes even came in. It wasn’t a debate anymore. It was a braid.

Oscar took the paper from me and scribbled something out, then rewrote a few notes differently, the tune climbing upward before dipping again to end on a low D. “Can you try it this way?”

I couldn’t understand why he’d changed the notes, what made this better, how he’d come up with it so effortlessly. But I pictured myself in a short toga and garland crown, holding a lyre, crooning into some dumbstruck Grecian’s ear.

“Of course,” I said, and sang.

•   •   •

Jules’s invitation came in a series of rapid-fire texts.

Double-date Wednesday, El Pueblo, 8pm, no outs because:

1–If you’re thinking of doing that thing where you get a boyfriend and vanish, NOT ON MY WATCH

2–I would prefer to dislike your boyfriend on his own merits and for that I have to hang out with him

3–Music brings everybody together lalalalala

I wasn’t sure what El Pueblo had to do with music until we got to the restaurant and found a sign on the door reading Wednesday Night Karaoke! I would have made a U-turn if there hadn’t been so many people walking in behind us.

Jules was already sitting at a corner table for four, scrolling through a black book with laminated pages.

She looked up at me. “I picked you out a song!”

“Holy no,” I muttered.

“I love karaoke!” Oscar waved. “Jules! So great to finally hang out.”

“I know, right?” Jules narrowed her eyes at me while slapping Oscar’s hand.

“I’m not singing,” I said.

Jules flipped another page. “And I ordered us nachos.”

I glanced around while Oscar scooted my chair in for me. “Where’s Tyler?”

“Mars. Antarctica. Stuck on the 1, impossible to tell.”

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“I’m used to it. So. Oscar.” She leaned forward. “What level of genius would you say you are?”

“Jules.” Every ounce of energy I had went into my glare.

“Like Isaac Newton genius or dolphins-are-actually-really-smart genius?”

But Oscar was stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I would say that I am . . . Marvel villain-level genius.”

Jules nodded. “Interesting. Go on.”

“Yeah, so I can concoct a plan, it’s big, it’s impressive, but in the end, I’m still going to get my ass beat.”

“Self-awareness.” Jules pointed at him. “I like that.”