Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“The piano—what if they pressure you to play?” Grayson cuffed Carl’s bare wrist. “You’re not wearing your bandage.”
“This was a spontaneous thing. I didn’t bring it.”
The moment Grayson tugged Carl back into the kitchen, the scudding of chairs over the floor as staff and volunteer parents chatted in the main hall became a soft background hum.
Grayson opened drawers and cupboards, searching them swiftly, keeping a gentle grasp on him.
Carl stared at those careful fingers and wondered if Grayson felt the ticking of his pulse under them, like at the beach, under the towel. He waved his free hand in front of his face. Plenty more air in this kitchen, yet it felt similarly warm.
“You alright?” Grayson asked, spying his rapid face-fanning hand.
Carl dropped it to his side and mustered a nod.
Behind the cutlery tray was a clear bag of plasters, and Grayson snatched them up. “Stay right there.”
Air funnelled around his fingers but the feel of Grayson’s hand around Carl’s stayed. He stared at it until suddenly Grayson was before him again, holding up a large plaster smothered in raspberry jam. Carefully, Grayson wrapped it around Carl’s index finger, smoothing out a ruffled edge with the tip of his fingernail. The gentle scrape sparked a violent shiver, and Carl . . . liked it. He . . . didn’t want to ignore it.
He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. Heartbreaker.
“There,” Grayson said. “Credibility.”
A short sound had him reopening his eyes and spinning around to Leo, tucked behind the doorframe to the kitchen. He was frowning, perplexed. “What—”
“Leo!” Grayson said, aiming for cheerful and distracting. “Where did you come from?”
“I got bored at the bakery. Wanted to see if you needed help.” Leo kept staring at Carl’s plastered finger, and guilt sank Carl’s stomach to his knees. This was it. He’d kept finding excuses not to come clean—there was always another feeling that trumped the truth—but now . . .
Leo flattened his lips, frown deepening.
The chatter from the hall had died down—the meeting was about to start. He really wanted to stall it on Sage’s behalf, but faced with lying to help her or saving his friendship with Leo . . .
Carl turned to Grayson with a light, pleading touch to his arm. “I can’t go in there.”
Grayson’s warm dark eyes held his with understanding. “Go on. I’ve got this.”
With sluggish steps, Carl walked out into a fresh breeze with Leo. They didn’t look at one another or say anything as they crossed the concrete quad, headed up a zigzag path and rounded a playground to a view of houses and hills. The grass was soft under them when they sat. Leo grabbed a stick and started stabbing it into the dirt.
Carl thought he probably deserved to be under that stick.
He sighed and unwrapped the plaster. “You saw Grayson smear jam on this, huh?”
A demanding look. “Why?”
“My gut tells me you already have an idea.”
“You wore a bandage to assembly and couldn’t perform. Now you’re wearing jammed-up plasters. You don’t want to play.”
“Mm. I don’t want to play.”
“Because it’s too much to ask? Or because we’re not paying you? Or . . .” He stabbed the grass again.
“Finish that ‘or’.”
“Or you don’t know how.”
Carl ran a hand through his hair and stared out towards the forested hills. “I mean, I might be able to sound out Three Blind Mice . . .”
Leo dropped his stick and stared at him. “You’re not a professional? Why did Mum think . . . why did you pretend you were?”
“Fair questions. Your mum was right. Jason Lyall is a famous pianist.”
“You’re not Jason Lyall? Oh my God. You’re an evil twin?”
“Would we call me evil?”
“You’re a twin?”
“And cowardly imposter.”
Leo opened his mouth to say something and slammed it shut again. Instead, he blinked, and blinked again. “You pretended to be your twin? Does he know? Are there two of you walking about confusing us?”
Carl explained the situation. Swapping places with his brother was only meant to be for a few weeks. Carl wasn’t supposed to get into trouble here, and it might’ve been better if he hadn’t chosen to act as his twin, but “I confess, I was curious what it would feel like. Being him. You were all so eager to meet me, get to know me. It felt nice.”
“So you’re a lonely old fool.”
Carl winced. “Only a dozen years older than you—okay, I get your point. A fool.”
Leo picked up his stick again and swatted at the grass tips. “It made me and Mum so happy to think we met someone famous who enjoyed being around us.”
Carl bowed his head.
A stick prodded into his arm. “I mean . . . I think I get why you thought it wouldn’t matter. If your brother came and took over my lessons, then you’ve thought you’ve helped us. And I think I get why you kept pretending. It’s mostly for me. To make me look good in front of those bullies.”