ZOE'S POV
I could feel the tension in the air like electricity before a storm. Professor Mercer had gone completely silent after asking me to play something sad, and now Marcus stood in the doorway looking like he wanted to punch someone.
"Uncle Marcus," I said quickly, standing up from the piano bench. "I was just—"
"I can see what you were doing." His voice was ice cold. I'd never heard him sound like that before.
Professor Mercer cleared his throat. "Mr. Washington. I was just getting acquainted with my new student."
Marcus didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on me, and there was something dangerous in them that made my stomach flip.
"Zoe, we need to talk. Now."
"Actually, we were in the middle of—" Professor Mercer started.
"Now, Zoe." Marcus's voice cut through the room like a blade.
I looked between them, confused. What was happening here? Minutes ago, Marcus had been his usual supportive self, bragging about me to other faculty members. Now he looked ready to explode.
"I should go," I said to Professor Mercer, though I didn't really want to. For the first time since starting this program, I'd felt like someone was actually listening to my music. Really listening.
Professor Mercer nodded, but his expression was weird. Guarded. "We'll continue this discussion during your first official lesson."
"Sure," I said, grabbing my bag from the floor.
Marcus stepped back to let me pass, but I could feel him watching Professor Mercer the whole time. Like he was sizing him up. Like he was trying to decide whether to fight him or not.
As soon as we got into the hallway, Marcus grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the practice room. Not rough, but firm enough that I knew he wasn't messing around.
"What the hell are you doing with Leo?" he demanded.
I stopped walking and stared at him. "Leo? You mean Professor Mercer?"
Marcus didn't answer. He just kept walking, practically dragging me down the hallway toward the main exit. Students were still hanging around from the showcase, laughing and talking in small groups. They all went quiet when they saw Marcus's face.
"Uncle Marcus, you're scaring me," I said, trying to keep my voice down. "What's wrong with you?"
He didn't stop until we were outside in the parking lot, away from everyone else. The cool night air hit my face, and I could finally breathe again.
"You know Professor Mercer?" I asked, studying his face in the streetlight.
Still no answer. But his jaw was clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. I'd seen Marcus angry before—at incompetent musicians, at people who didn't take music seriously, at bureaucrats who tried to cut funding for arts programs. But this was different. This was personal.
"He's my professor," I said slowly. "The one who's supposed to be in charge of my intensive mentorship classes."
Marcus spun around to face me, his eyes wide. "He's what?"
"My mentor. The department assigned him to me. Why? What's the big deal?"
"The big deal?" Marcus laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Zoe, you need to change your so-called mentor. First thing tomorrow morning, understand?"
"What? No." The word came out louder than I meant it to. A couple walking to their car turned to look at us. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm telling you to."
"That's not a reason, Uncle Marcus. That's just you being controlling."
His face went red. "Controlling? I'm looking out for you, Zoe. That man is—"
"Is what? He seemed fine to me. More than fine, actually. He actually listened to my music tonight.”
"Of course he did. He's probably trying to—"
"Trying to what?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Be a good teacher? Help me improve? Isn't that what you wanted when you pulled strings to get me into this program?"
"You can't stay in his class, Zoe. Find someone else."
"I can't just switch mentors for no reason. Classes haven't even been going for a week yet. I need a good reason to ask for a change, and 'my uncle doesn't like him' isn't going to cut it."
"I'm reason enough."
"No, you're not." I stepped closer to him, trying to read his expression in the dim light. "What is your deal with Professor Mercer? Why do you look like you want to kill him?"
Marcus turned away from me, staring out at the empty campus. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Just stood there with his shoulders tense and his breathing too fast.
"Uncle Marcus," I said again, softer this time. "Why does seeing Professor Mercer make you so angry? How do you even know him?"
Silence.
"Marcus." I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. "What aren't you telling me? Why did you react like that when you saw us together?"
He met my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I saw something that looked like fear there.
"I know him," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "From way back."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Everything suddenly made sense—the tension, the anger, the way they'd looked at each other in that practice room.
"You two were classmates?" I whispered.
Marcus nodded slowly, and I felt my mouth fall open.
"Oh my God."