Oscar jolted too, a malfunction blink that his eyes took a second to open from. “As in . . . singing?”

“Yeah!” I walked into the kitchen, searching for a snack. “I’m finally getting the message that the universe is sending me. Took me long enough, right?”

I dug into a bag of wasabi trail mix.

“I mean, Mom always said I was a singer, and now Nora and you—maybe this is what I’ve been looking for. It’s August, right? Just in time to apply to conservatories! I don’t know . . .” I pulled myself onto the counter. “I think this might be my career.”

I popped a spicy pea into my mouth and turned to see Oscar staring at me with thick confusion pooling in his eyes. He was tired.

“Career?” he asked. “Like . . . opera?”

“No. Pop. I’m gonna be the next Taylor Swift.”

“Oh!” He brightened.

I threw a pea at him. “I’m kidding! Of course classical. This is home for me. Always will be.”

I breathed the townhouse in, dust and books and music.

The front door jangled open and Dad strode through.

I stood quickly, hoping to defuse whatever tension lingered between them with my own good news. “Hey Dad, guess who I just saw.”

He blinked between us. “The Dalai Lama.”

I laughed. “No. Odile Michaud.”

“Oh! You ran into her?”

“I had a lesson!”

“A singing lesson?” Dad grinned, squinting at me. “What for?”

My own smile faltered. “Um.”

“For Oscar’s piece? Ah, right, Nora told me she’d roped you in. Listen, sweetie, don’t worry about that. Nobody’s gonna hear you up there, you’ve got real singers drowning you out and your pitch is fine. Just show up and have a good time!” He bustled up the stairs to his office, shouting, “Give me fifteen minutes, Oscar, and I’ll be ready to hear the new stuff!”

“Yep,” Oscar called, his eyes locked on mine, melting with . . . no. With sympathy. With not knowing what to say.

My hands started to shake.

I put down the bag of trail mix. “Tell me. The truth.”

“I’m one person, Ruby . . .”

“Tell me.”

He sat and hung his head.

I started to disintegrate. “You said my voice was the one you heard.”

“It is.” He gripped his knees, peering up at me. “It always will be.”

“But—”

“It’s a sweet voice, Ruby. Your dad’s right, you have good pitch, but in terms of professional—”

“Holy shit.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I hurried up the stairs, Oscar bolting after me.

“Ruby, listen!” He grabbed my arm. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes—”