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I didn't believe him. But the next morning, I gave my presentation, and somehow the words flowed out of me like I had become Niagara Falls. I didn't stammer once. I sounded prepared and informed. My teacher gave me an A. And then directly after social studies, I found seventy-five cents on the cafeteria floor—just enough money to buy the vending machine chips I wanted. Wealth and success. Dad was right. Eight was lucky. Eight was magic.

He's right this time, too. It doesn't matter what I want. My father has sent me a sign. A real one. I have to play.

When I'm finished tuning, we file out of the cafeteria and into the hall that leads to the auditorium. We pause backstage, and my stand partner, Xena, shuffles her sheet music, the handle of her bow crushed in her fist. I'd forgotten that this is Xena's first concert at Hartswood Middle School—she just moved here from California in January. I wonder if she chose the viola because she also accidentally pointed at a pair of violas in a music store when she was six or if she had a more normal reason, like she saw a violist influencer on TikTok (if those even exist) and couldn't resist playing the most boring instrument in the world.

"You're gonna be great," I whisper. "Don't worry."

Xena brightens. "Thanks, Freya. You—"

I gently push her into the bright lights of the auditorium before she can say anything else.

Onstage, I find my seat across from Stephanie's. Even though the audience is mostly cloaked in darkness, I can still make out Mom and May in the third row, conveniently sitting behind Lucas Vanderpool and his parents, of course. My family always sits up front at concerts so they can take good pictures to send to my grandparents. I look over to Mom's left as she leans forward to find me in the crowd of instruments and middle schoolers. There's an empty seat between her and an older lady and her grandkids. A spot for Dad. It's like he'll walk in any moment, like he's late after another work call or he stopped on the side of the road on his way here because he saw an injured animal and had to call animal control because not doing so would be really unlucky. Soon he'll fly in with his phone all charged and ready to video my Big Moment.

I glance down at my sheet music. Dad must have sent the birds because this is my first solo ever. I've never had one before. He's probably really excited in heaven. If he were actually about to walk through those auditorium doors, he'd already have my part memorized just so he could appreciate how beautiful it was when I played it or something cheesy like that. Except this time, I don't think I'd find it that cheesy.

Instead, as Stephanie tunes us again and Mr. Keating walks onstage to a smattering of applause, the only people I do see scurry in late are my best friends, Darley Banerjee and Billie Karras. We've been the tightest of trios since field day in second grade, when we all had to run the relay race together. Darley plays soccer, so she was like our team captain, peptalking us into a surprise win.

Now, she scampers just as quickly down the aisle, her long braids swinging behind her. Billie's right on Darley's tail, math homework rolled between her palms like she's about to swat a fly, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. When they get to their seats, Darley fluffs her braids and purses her lips to her phone camera. I am 100 percent sure she's Snapchatting something like at Freya's orchestra concert!!!! Yay!!!!! Darley loves exclamation points (and soccer) almost as much as Billie loves numbers.

While Darley fiddles with her phone, Billie immediately hunches over her problem sets, or what I assume are her problem sets since she's never not doing them. She tested out of middle school math, so she goes to the nearby upper school every day to take geometry with kids who are my sister's age. She finds them so interesting, but I think they're just mean and annoying, like May.

The orchestra stumbles through the first few pieces. I try to focus, but my eyes keep darting between Mom and her purple phone case as she takes too many photos of me, Darley Snapchatting, and Billie bent over her homework. I almost skip a measure because I can't stop internally barfing at May making googly eyes at the back of Lucas Vanderpool's head.

Come on, Freya, I scold myself. Get it together. For Dad. In my mind, the pair of red birds have feathery wings so large they take up every corner of my brain.

I try to breathe as the audience politely claps and Mr. Keating swivels toward me on the conductor stand. We lock eyes as I raise my bow. Allegro spiritoso is starting. And it's my turn in the spotlight.