Chapter One: Rose Treble Clef
Claire
I hold my breath as I stare at my inbox and the time on my computer.
11:59.
One minute.
Why is one minute so long to wait?
I refresh my email for the nine hundredth time today, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they will email me earlier and put an end to my agony.
No such luck.
Thirty seconds.
I wiggle my foot, trying to expel nervous energy. The taps against the porch deck are a steady trail of dark brown against the gray landscape, like coffee drips on—
My email dings.
I snap away from the colors and stare at the email.
Claire Larkton— Application Response.
Oh.
Oh my word.
It’s here.
I open it, holding my breath as I skim the email.
Dear Miss Larkton…
Thank you for applying…
We would be happy to have you be one of the singers featured—
I freeze and stare at the email.
Accepted.
Holy cow.
“I GOT IN!” My shriek splits the grayscale world in fireworks of coral and magenta. Three horses bolt away in the pasture next to the house, and our dogs start howling, but who cares?
I’m going to sing at the county fair!
“AHHHHHHHAHAHAHA!!” I set my computer on the porch swing before I drop it from bouncing. I turn to run inside and tell everyone the good news, but the door slams into my face, knocking me backward. My adrenaline is so high I barely feel it, and I end up staring at the ceiling giggling neurotically.
“Good grief, Claire!” My older brother Aiden rushes forward to help me, his marmalade voice tainted with pale yellow concern. “You okay?”
“Fine! Amazing!” I grin. “Aiden, I got in!”
“No, you got a concussion.” He offers his hand and helps me stand up. “What the heck are you yelling about?”
“They accepted me! I got the email! They want me to sing at the fair!” I close my computer and spin. “In front of a crowd!”
My younger brother Jacob tromps out of the house, glaring at me. “What’s going on?”
“Claire’s losing her mind,” Aiden chuckles.
“I am perfectly sane, thank you very much.” I smirk at Jacob. “Your dear older sister is going to be the star at the fair.”
“That’s not that impressive.” Jacob rolls his eyes. “They’ll literally take anyone who says they can sing.”
“Hey, no raining on Claire’s parade,” Aiden retorts. “This is a big moment—my little sister is growing up.” He pulls off his battered Tractor Supply baseball cap and sticks it onto my head.
I twist it around so it’s backward. “Little by four years,” I mutter.
“And I’m only younger than you by two years,” Jacob snaps, his teal voice sharp. “So none of this ‘dear older sister’ nonsense.”
I pat his blond head. “You will understand when you’re fourteen.”
He swats away my hand. “And you’ll understand when you’re younger.”
I shake my head and duck inside to put away my computer. I gotta figure out something to work off this energy before Colton gets here. We’ve been friends long enough that he’ll understand my excitement, but I don’t want to overwhelm him with a full dose of Claire insanity.
I shove my computer onto the table and run out to the riding horse paddock, my boots sending tan thuds across the gray path. Chickens scatter in front of me, clucking in harsh red-orange tones. Cash lopes alongside me, panting in short yellow-green gasps.
Being a synthese isn’t always great, but days like today make it hard not to appreciate my gift. Every sound turns my black-and-white world into a watercolor show.
I skid to a stop in front of the paddock, searching the horses for a white mane and tail.
Brillie sees me first. She’s already halfway across the pasture, shoving past Aiden’s gelding, Ranger, and her herdmates Kittie and Raven to meet me at the gate.
“Brillie-bean!” My coral-colored voice tints the world with cream-gold at the sound of her name. For a moment I can see her true color—glowing dappled palomino, with an ivory mane and tail, before my world slips back into monochrome. I grab a halter from the hooks and slip inside through the cowboy gate. She stops a few feet in front of me, head already lowered for the halter and an expectant look in her deep gaze.
“You’re an eager beaver today, aren’t you?” I scratch her in her favorite spot behind the ears, grinning as her lips flap open and closed with pleasure. “Want to work some barrels while we wait for Colton?”
She lips a strand of my hair.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I take her out of the paddock, making sure the gate is latched firmly behind us. By the time we’re up at the barn, a dappled gray horse clops up the gravel driveway, my best friend Colton perched on his back.
“Hey, Colton.” I tie Brillie to the hitching post, patting her shoulder. “You’re here early.”
“Yeah.” He slows his gelding, Frankie, to a stop across from me. “The Scotts seemed pretty worked up about something, so I figured it was better if I got out of their hair. Left them a note saying I was over here.”
“Cool.” I dart inside the barn and pull out the grooming box. “Give me fifteen minutes and we can go out on that trail ride?”
“Sure.” He brushes his dark hair out of his face. “I can wait.”
“Great.” I busy myself with brushing down Brillie, occasionally glancing at Colton to gauge him. He’s extra fidgety today, fingering Frankie’s mane, wiggling his foot, and avoiding all eye contact with me. Whatever is going on at the Scotts’ has him rattled. Some idiots say that people with autism are tuned out from the rest of the world, but I know that’s not true. Colton feels tension very deeply, especially with his foster parents.
I need something to get his mind off of it…
“Oh, Colton!” I grab the saddle pad and slide it onto Brillie’s back. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“You are looking at the newest addition for the Crawford County Fair’s live music!” I take a mock bow, almost stumbling into Brillie.
“Really?” His eyes widen. “Wow. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I run inside the barn to grab the saddle, and an idea pops into my head. “You know… you could join me.”
“Say what?” He freezes, orange ripples tainting his slate voice with alarm.
“Aw, come on, Colton. You’re practically a music prodigy—who better to play guitar to my songs than you?”
He shakes his head. “Claire, I don’t even sing at the cafe, and that’s five to eight people at most. In front of a crowd? Are you crazy? No.”
I sigh. “Okay, okay. But think about it?”
“There’s nothing to think about.” He huffs. “Are we going on a trail ride or not?”
“Hold your horse, I’m coming.” I slip on Brillie’s bridle, tighten the cinch one more time, and swing up onto her back. “All right, let’s go.”
I follow him down to the small gravel road that connects our houses. It’s never busy, and the grass alongside it is nice and flat—perfect for impromptu races.
I exhale, taking in the bright green of summer wind, the bubbly blues and pinks of chattering swallows, and the nutmeg-brown of squirrels chastising us from the trees. Brillie and Frankie round out the colors with copper and wheat splashes of snorts and sighs.
“One more summer,” Colton says, his slate voice cutting through the bright colors with the pink-gray of nostalgia.
I shift to look at him, confused. “One more summer?”
“Until high school,” he says, fingers rubbing Frankie’s withers. “We both enter ninth grade this year.”
“We’re homeschooled,” I chuckle. “Will it really be that different?”
“Well, no, but still. It’s high school.” He stares out across the pastures. “It’s a whole new season.”
“Well, we’re gonna crush it,” I tell him, grinning with the thought of all the possibilities. “It’s going to be perfectly awesome.”
He nods, but mutters, “Yeah, busy is more like it.”
“We’ll figure it out. It’ll be great. Think of all the new opportunities to do stuff.” I stop and straighten, spotting a familiar landmark.
The hickory tree.
Colton sees it at the same time and gives me a side grin. “Race you?”
He gives Frankie a hard kick before I can respond, and the two of them sprint ahead. I laugh and click to Brillie. She bolts forward, the sound of her hoofbeats electric violet in the air.
The big hickory tree that stands at the exact middle of the road between our properties is a favorite meeting point. We’ve spent many hours hanging out near this tree, and it makes the perfect end point for short races.
For a few seconds, Brillie and Frankie are neck and neck, then Brillie uses her speedy long legs to pull ahead. By the time the hickory tree comes up, she’s going too fast to stop and we gallop past it.
I chuckle with victory, glancing behind me to see Colton pulling Frankie to a stop, grinning wide and breathing hard.
Then his expression changes to fear, and neon yellow spews from his shout, “Claire, watch out!”
I whip my attention forward in time to see a black SUV speed down the road toward the Scotts’ house, wheels spewing gravel. I stop Brillie in time, and the car roars past, too fast and too close, making Brillie snort and jerk up on her back legs in an attempt to get away.
“Easy, Brillie-bean.” I rub her neck, shifting my weight forward so I’m not tossed off. She bounces a few more times before settling down, shifting her weight back and forth.
The car is already parked at Colton’s house. Odd. I’ve never seen a car like that on this road before. And the driver must be from the city. No sane local would drive like that.
“You okay?” Colton asks, jogging up behind me on Frankie.
“I’m fine. But what an idiot!” I scowl at the black car, slight red dripping on it from my words. “Who on earth could be so inconsiderate?”
Colton’s silent. When I look at him, waiting for an answer, I realize how pale his face is.
“Colton?” My brow furrows with confusion. “What’s wrong?”
He licks his lips, swallowing. When he finally speaks, the storm gray color in his voice is heavy.
“That’s my social worker’s car.”
***
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