She made air-quotes around VIP. I soon realized why. We got into the bar through the back alley, walking past an overflowing dumpster to squeak open a staff door kept open by a bent MetroCard someone had slipped into the lock-catch. Jules motioned me inside, carefully replaced the card as she shut the door, then strode ahead with renewed bounce.

The evening had begun.

9.

the hallway was dark and the floor was sticky. Music thumped in a distant room and Jules was right—it was terrible! I followed her past a vacant bar to a windowless room lined with ugly velvet banquettes, where a guy and girl sat sprawled in opposite corners.

I edged in behind Jules, straightening my dress strap as they jumped to their feet. The girl was intimidatingly pretty—Asian, model-tall, with a perfect purple ballerina bun. The guy was on the short side, olive-skinned, wearing an untucked dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, like he’d just gotten off work on Wall Street.

He’s trying to look older, I realized, but then he smiled, totally affable, and I felt bad for noticing.

Jules glanced back at me, almost shyly. “Yeah, this is Sam and Joey.”

I couldn’t figure out whose name was whose, so I gave a general wave. “Hey.”

Jules whipped back around, sculptural hair flying. “Meet Ruby.”

“Hey Ruby,” Joey/Sam said in unison.

“Her dad is Martin Chertok,” Jules added.

They stared blankly at us—and a thrill shot through me.

“Martin Chertok,” Jules said again, louder, like she hadn’t been heard over the thump-thump-thump of Top 40 in the next room. “The classical composer?”

“Cool!” the tall girl said, but it was obvious she was pretending.

“Ugh.” Jules threw herself onto one of the sofas. “Heathens. Sorry, Ruby.”

“Not at all,” I chirped, too enthusiastically. But oh my God, I meant it. I was outside the gates of Musiclandia, and the air was so heady and clean! Actually, it smelled like beer stains in here, but still.

Joey/Sam—I was leaning toward him being Joey—scooted closer. “Where do you go to school?”

What a delightfully ordinary question! “Exton?”

Everybody groaned.

Jules slung her arm around me. “Don’t mind us. We’re victims of the public school system.”

A boy walked in with his arms spread wide and, again, apart from Jules, everybody rose to greet him.

She turned to me instead. “So! Tell me what you’ve been up to for the past six years.”

Tyler, then. Still on probation.

“A lot of piano,” I said.

“Yes, I figured.”

“But now I’ve quit.”

“Why?” Jules leaned in, unblinking.

“Because I suck.”

“Hmmm, dubious reason.” She stood, presenting her cheek for Tyler to kiss.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said. He was handsome, in a high school production of Grease kind of way. “I didn’t know if you were hanging out tonight.”