The Ghost Sonata Read Online Free Page A

harder.”
    â€œThere are other people who work just as hard.”
    â€œDon’t be afraid to win.”
    Wendy feared something much scarier than winning—something nameless that she couldn’t even articulate. Her mother couldn’t possibly understand the deep unease that had been creeping into the corners of her mind, so there was no use trying to explain.
    â€œOkay, Mom,” said Wendy, simply wanting the conversation to end. “I’ll take the red dress.” But I probably won’t wear it , she thought.

5

    Fear of Flying
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    Gilda and Wendy sat near their gate at the British Airways terminal, waiting for the boarding of flight nine to be announced.
    â€œYou haven’t said anything about my travel attire.” Gilda wore a black dress, lace-up black-leather boots, and a hat with netting that half-concealed her eyes. She felt very mysterious in the clothes, as if she were a traveling spy.
    â€œI like the hat,” said Wendy. “The net over your face kind of reminds me of dead bugs on a windshield, though.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what my brother said.”
    â€œSee?”
    â€œHe has even less fashion sense than my grandmother.”
    Nearby, Mrs. Mendelovich paced back and forth as she spoke in Russian on her cell phone, gesturing dramatically.
    â€œI wonder what she’s talking about,” Gilda whispered.
    â€œShe’s probably yelling at her husband because he forgot to run an errand or something,” said Wendy. “She always does that during my piano lessons.”
    Sitting across from Gilda and Wendy were Ming Fong and Gary. Ming Fong’s childish clothes and diminutive body made her look younger than her fourteen years. Her hair hung in a ruler-straight bob just below her moon-shaped face. Gary was a plump boy dressed in uncomfortable corduroy pants. He sat with a book of music open, tapping out the fingering of a composition and quietly humming to himself.
    â€œDid you practice today, Wendy?” Ming Fong asked.
    â€œNot much,” said Wendy.
    Ming Fong’s eyes narrowed slightly. “ How much?”
    â€œA couple hours, I guess. I ran through all my pieces.”
    â€œI practiced four hours. I usually practice at least five.”
    â€œGood for you,” said Wendy, with thinly veiled annoyance.
    â€œWendy doesn’t need to practice,” Gilda interjected. “She’s naturally talented.”
    Ming Fong fixed Gilda with a stare, as if she were calculating something in some computerlike portion of her brain. “Wendy will probably win the whole competition,” she declared with sudden forced cheer. “Wendy always wins.”
    Wendy squirmed. It was a compliment, but for some reason, she felt as if she had just been jinxed.
    â€œOf course Wendy will win,” said Gilda. “She can practically play Rachmaninoff ’s Third Piano Concerto with her toes. Besides, Wendy and I have big plans for that five large in prize money.”
    Ming Fong’s mouth became a small, flat line.
    â€œ Gilda has plans for the prize money,” said Wendy.
    â€œWhat would you do with the five thousand pounds?” Gary looked up from his music, suddenly interested.
    â€œFirst, we’ll take a trip to Paris and update our wardrobes. Then we’ll probably travel through Europe, followed by a cruise,” said Gilda.
    â€œWhatever’s left over will go into our college funds,” Wendy joked.
    â€œCommunity college, of course,” Gilda added.
    â€œDevry University.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself.”
    â€œI don’t get it,” said Gary. “Are the two of you playing duets together in the competition or something? Why would you split the prize money with Gilda, Wendy?”
    Wendy grinned. “That’s actually a very good question. I mean, shouldn’t the person who’s doing the performing get all the money?”
    â€œWe’re splitting it