The Ghost Sonata Read Online Free

told her.
    He turned to look at her through the small glass window in the practice room door. Her heart sank as he waved to her.
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    As usual, Wendy awoke from the dream feeling that something—or somebody —was nearby, waiting for her. She buried herself under the covers, then threw them off with an abrupt violence, as if hurling the blankets at the shadowy nightmares that lurked in the corners of her immaculate bedroom. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and rubbed her eyes, trying to scrub away a burgeoning headache. With her chin resting on her fists, Wendy stared at her open suitcase on the floor. The suitcase was packed with neatly folded clothes and stacks of piano music. Wendy seemed transfixed by the luggage, as if it were a window through which she could view some interesting scene from her future. I’m flying to England tonight , she told herself. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be far from home, riding in a bus from London to Oxford.
    She knew she should feel happy and excited, but instead, she found herself wondering why her nightmares seemed to occur more frequently as the date of the piano competition approached. Anxiety dreams before a big performance were nothing new to Wendy: there was the familiar dream that she had accidentally walked onstage naked; the dream that her hands suddenly became paralyzed; the dream that the piano keys made no sound when she pressed them down; and the dream of sitting on the piano bench and discovering that another competitor had left gum on the seat. But the dreams she had been having lately were different—more disturbing and more real than any nightmare she had experienced before. What if they’re actually bad omens? Wendy wondered. What if they’re signs that something terrible might happen to me?
    â€œSo lazy!” said Mrs. Choy, interrupting Wendy’s trance. “Nine o’clock and still in bed!” Standing in Wendy’s doorway, she held a long, red silk dress on a hanger.
    â€œMom, our flight is a red-eye, and I probably won’t get any sleep tonight.”
    Mrs. Choy held out the dress. “You wear this dress in the show. Lots of luck!” Mrs. Choy considered herself a thoroughly modern woman, but she still maintained several ancient Chinese beliefs and superstitions. One of these was her certainty that the color red would help bring luck and keep away evil spirits. As a result, red decorations and pieces of art were tastefully placed throughout the Choys’ neat, uncluttered house—wall hangings, fans, figurines of dragons and frogs. A strong believer in feng shui principles to increase the flow of “positive energy” in her home, Mrs. Choy also placed green “money plants” in strategic locations and avoided all angular shapes and sharp objects.
    Wendy eyed the dress skeptically. It reminded her of a Chinese wedding gown. “I don’t know, Mom. . . . It seems a little too Chinese for England.”
    â€œNothing wrong with Chinese. Red for good luck.”
    â€œThanks for the vote of confidence.”
    â€œTo win, you need luck. You win, you get five thousand pound. You lessons not cheap!”
    Wendy was well aware that the winner of the competition would receive a cash prize and the opportunity to perform with a major orchestra. She also knew that both her parents worked overtime in jobs they didn’t particularly like to make this sort of opportunity possible for her, and she accepted as a fact the idea that she owed them some significant success as payment for their sacrifices. If only she could win something big, like the competition at Oxford University—something her parents could tell their friends about—she would prove herself worthy.
    â€œMom,” said Wendy, “I might not win. This is an international competition. That means there could be lots of kids there who are better than me.”
    â€œAlways someone better. You work