Rival by Sara Bennett Wealer Read Free Book Online Page A

chili. When I got back, Kathryn was standing off by herself, flipping through my CDs.
    â€œHaving fun?” I said. I hoped she’d say no so I could launch a rant about how fake the whole evening was. Something about Kathryn made me think she’d understand.
    â€œI’m having a great time,” she said. “Your friends are nice.”
    I put the chili down on my desk. Who was I kidding? Nobody was going to eat it.
    â€œTell me you’re just saying that.”
    â€œOkay, I’m just saying that.” Kathryn laughed a quiet little laugh and held up a collection of French art songs. “Dawn Upshaw. I love her.”
    â€œMe too. My dad took me to see her in The Great Gatsby at the Met. It was amazing.”
    Kathryn’s eyes got wide. “You’ve been to the Met?”
    â€œSure. Haven’t you?”
    â€œI’ve never been to New York. My mom and I were saving up to go over spring break but it’s so expensive. I listen to the operas every Saturday on the radio, though.”
    I couldn’t believe it. I’d thought I was the only person who did that.
    â€œSo what did you think about the new Turandot ?” I’d been dying to talk about it ever since the broadcast.
    â€œThe new aria was great, but I couldn’t handle that it didn’t end with ‘Nessun Dorma.’ I guess I’m traditional that way.”
    â€œTotally.” I couldn’t stop staring at her. Nobody I knew knew anything about music, let alone a famous melody from a Puccini opera.
    Chloe had opened my closet and the other girlswere trying on my clothes. Kathryn laughed as Violet flounced around in my old Halloween flapper boa. “Mr. Lieb, my voice teacher at Baldwin, says not listening to the Met is like wasting a free ticket.”
    â€œThat’s what Hildy says, too. Lieb has his studio off the courtyard, right? Hildy Schultz is right down the hall.”
    Kathryn nodded and flipped some more. “You have a really good collection.”
    â€œDawn Upshaw is my only soprano. I’m all about the mezzos and contraltos. Listen to this.”
    I took Madonna out of the CD player and popped in Bizet’s Carmen . Denyce Graves singing “Down Near the Walls of Sevilla” came blaring out of the speakers. Kathryn tipped her head and nodded along with the music. “Denyce Graves is awesome,” she said. “Did you see her in Aida in St. Paul?”
    â€œHey!” Chloe’s voice came at us from across the room. “Turn that crap off!” She grabbed a couple of the new girls, whirled them around to face me, and announced, “Brooke here wants to be an opera singer when she grows up. Which is fine and all, as long as the rest of us don’t have to hear it.”
    Kathryn ejected the CD and handed it to me. “Maybe we can listen some other time,” she said.
    I took the CD and smiled a smile that said, See, Chloe?Somebody else cares about this stuff, too.
    â€œFine,” I said. “But one of these days you’ll wish you were nicer to us music freaks.”
    Chloe waved a whatever hand as she turned away.
    â€œI highly doubt that,” she said.

KATHRYN
    TWO HOURS. THAT’S HOW MUCH sleep I got the night of the slumber party, just two hours somewhere between four in the morning and ten a.m., when I stumbled back through my own front door, headachy, stale-mouthed, and utterly exhilarated. All of the years that I’d kept to myself with Matt, I’d convinced myself I wasn’t missing anything; Matt was comfortable and familiar, just like the best guy friends in the old movies we liked to watch, and that was good enough for me. I didn’t need girlfriends.
    After Brooke’s, however, I knew it wasn’t true. There was something special about being around other girls, a sense of belonging I’d never experienced before. And I did belong—at least that’s how it felt, because everybody