To be clear, it’s the first time I’ve been challenged in piano in a really long time, and I’m fucking living for it. I’m buzzing. Honestly, it’s still blowing my mind that I get to work with someone who’s achieved everything I could ever imagine with her piano career, and then some. I’m reminded why I fell in love with piano to begin with. The knowledge that, if I put in the time and effort, I can produce something beautiful. I can make other people feel what I’m feeling.

It’s kind of like being given a spell book and a wand. Music’s the closest thing we’ve got to practical magic, and I’m finally about to level up after more than a year of being stuck and stagnant.

I think I love it here.

And as much as I appreciate a good compliment sandwich, I’ll admit it makes things ten times sweeter when, at the end of the lesson, Caroline leans back so she can get a better look at me and says, “I see why Bramppath wanted you. You’ve got a lot of talent. I think with some work, you could really go far.”

I’m pretty sure if I smiled any bigger she would’ve been tempted to throw in another critique to knock me down a peg again. As it is, she gives me a stern look up and down, like she’s trying to measure me up for something. I guess I pass, because she gathers up her stuff for the next lesson and walks me to the ballroom door. “How are you settling in?” she asks as we go, her fingertips fluttering down the edges where her rose-gold hijab meets her face. You know a room’s huge when you have to make small talk to fill in the time it takes to cross it.

“Really good, thanks.”

“Have you had the chance to meet anybody yet?”

“Yeah, I have a few friends.”

At least, I think I do. There’s Molly for sure, and Harriet, and Eleanor seemed surprisingly okay with me at dinner last night. Though there’s a chance she was just being nice because I was with Molly, and Harriet is actually my residential assistant—the older student assigned to look out for the girls on the floor with things the teachers don’t need to be bugged over. Lost key cards, spare tampons, that sort of stuff. I read on the Bramppath website that RAs get a discount on their fees in exchange for the trouble of the role, though, so I guess you could argue Harriet’s being paid to be nice to me.

“Already?”

“Mostly Molly Kwon.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Molly? How is she coping?”

I’m thrown by the question. With me, or with fifth year? “Fine, I guess. It’s only been a couple of days.”