The Secret Life of Emily Blu

Chapter Thirteen

"Emily, can I speak to you for a moment?"

I put my bag in my seat and turn to Ms. Jefferson. "Sure."

She motions me forward and I follow her into her office, which is separated from the main music room. There's a large window in the wall overlooking the class so she can keep an eye on us even when she's in here. I feel the eyes of the students already in the room and I turn my back to face Ms. Jefferson.

She looks absolutely miserable. "Emily, I am so sorry about what happened. If I'd know that there was a risk of violence I never would have left you alone with either of them. I completely understand if you want me to move Hardy away from you."

I blink, completely blindsided by her offer. "I don't think it's your fault in any way, shape, or form," I assure her. "I didn't know it was going to get violent, and I didn't know that Bethany was going to storm in all mad. I'd also like to say I don't think Bethany intended me to get hurt. I tripped when she pushed me – it was an accident."

"Accident or not, you were in my classroom when it happened. I want every student to feel safe in here, including you. So please, let me know if you'd like me to do anything. My offer to move Hardy still stands."

I glance over my shoulder and I am not surprised to find that Hardy is one of the students staring in through the window at us. He's sitting right next to my bag.

"Hardy can be a bit... much," I say, "But I don't think he means anything by it. I don't see why you'd need to move him."

"Are you sure? I think you have a right to know that he's being punished for his participation in the entire event as well."

I turn to her, surprised. "What?" In all of the (forced) conversations between me and Hardy since the incident, he hasn't mentioned once that he also got in trouble with anyone other than his mom.

Ms. Jefferson nods. "He's benched for the next two football games. Coach is absolutely livid, but there's nothing he can do about it."

"That's... interesting," I say. "I didn't know that. He hasn't mentioned anything like that to me."

"My offer still stands. If you want me to move him away from you, just let me know."

"Thank you," I mumble as I pass her. I go back out into the classroom and sit in my seat, my mind whirring.

"What did Ms. Jefferson want to talk to you about?" Hardy asks, tapping my desk to get my attention.

I turn to him and blurt out, "Why didn't you tell me you were benched for the next two games?"

Hardy blinks at me. "Well, technically it's only one more game. I was benched on Friday's game."

"Why?"

Hardy shrugs and looks down at his hands. "It didn't seem important."

"Not important?" I hiss. "How is it not important that I managed to bench the star quarterback for two games? No wonder people have been whispering about me! Between this and Bethany I'm a fucking walking disaster!"

Hardy looks over at me and frowns. "What the hell are you talking about, Emily? You were hospitalized. You were unconscious and I couldn't wake you up. I honestly thought you'd died. Bethany may have been the one to push you, but I was there, and I didn't stop her before you got seriously injured. I have no problem sitting out a few games – I deserve to."

Before I can reply – not that I have anything to reply with – Ms. Jefferson claps her hands. "Okay class, we're going to get into pairs. You'll be working with whoever you're sitting next to. I'm going to give you guys a very basic song and I want you two to compose something over it to give it some pizazz. We'll work on it all this class and then next class one of you can come up and perform it on your instrument of choice."

To my surprise Hardy doesn't talk to me while Ms. Jefferson is passing out the sheet music. She sets a stack of blank sheet music on the table at the front of the class for us to grab when we need it.

I glance over the piece and she's right – it's a really basic piece. My mind immediately starts layering notes onto what's already been provided, and I start scribbling down options almost instantly. Several minutes later I turn to find Hardy staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar.

"What?"

"You like... really get music, don't you?"

I feel myself blush. "I guess. But don't act like you aren't extremely talented. I heard you play the other day."

Hardy's shaking his head before I've even finished my sentence. "I can play music. I can look at notes and figure out how they go together and how they're supposed to sound, but I don't compose. That's the hardest part of this class for me. And you're just... doing it. You make it look effortless."

I shrug, unable to meet his eyes. "I took a lot of music lessons growing up and my parents always encouraged me to pursue it if it's what made me happy."

"Encouraged? Don't they still encourage you?"

I freeze, recognizing my mistake. "My mom does."

"And your dad?"

I swallow and lower my gaze. The only thing I can do is give him a half truth. "He's been gone now a couple years. Three, actually, which is more than a couple I suppose."

Hardy stares at me for a moment and I can see him doing the math. I'm expecting him to say something, but instead he holds out his fist for a fist bump. "Welcome to the dead dad's club."

I stare at his hand and choke back a strangled laugh. I reach out and bump his fist.

"My dad died my freshman year of high school, too. It was really bad."

I glance down at my paper, but I'm dying to know what happened.

"It's okay to ask," Hardy says quietly.

I shoot him a sidelong glance. "What happened?"

Hardy swallows and glances down at his paper. "He picked me up from practice after school and we were on our way home when a drunk driver hit us. I got up and walked away; he didn't."

I reach across the space separating our desks and grab his hand, squeezing it slightly. "Hence the panic attacks?"

He nods. "It took me almost an entire extra year to learn how to drive. It was almost embarrassing. Bethany was super embarrassed she had to drive us everywhere."

"Well, frankly, Bethany's a bitch," I say without thinking.

Hardy turns wide eyes to me and for a second I think he's going to defend his ex, but instead he starts laughing. "Yes, I guess she is, isn't she?" When he sobers he says, "Can you walk me through your thought process on this piece?"

"Sure." I turn my paper so he can see more clearly. I don't mind helping someone who clearly wants to learn, and to my surprise star quarterback Hardy wants to learn. I guess I might have judged him too quickly.