Read Online The Ghost Sonata by JENNIFER ALLISON - Free Book Online Page A

checked wool minidress. She didn’t have time to dry her wet hair, so she quickly pulled her hair back in a ponytail and stuck the large, plumed hat on her head instead. She grabbed her coat, umbrella, and shoulder bag and ran out the door.
    Gilda assumed Wendy had already left, but she nevertheless paused to rap on her door just in case. “Wendy? You in there?”
    Gilda was surprised to hear rustling from inside Wendy’s room, followed by the sound of objects clattering to the floor. She heard Wendy’s voice. “Crap! You’ve got to be kidding me!” Something else toppled over. “Ow!”
    â€œWendy? What are you doing?”
    Wendy opened the door angrily, and Gilda was taken aback to see her standing in her pajamas with tousled hair and puffy eyes. One thing was for sure: she did not look like someone who was about to perform in an international piano competition.
    â€œIt’s all over,” she said. “I’m completely doomed.”
    â€œWhy aren’t you dressed? I thought you were supposed to be at Holywell Music Room by now!”
    â€œWhy didn’t you wake me up?”
    â€œI overslept, that’s why. I thought you had already left!”
    â€œWell, I obviously overslept, too. I must have turned off my alarm in my sleep or something.” Wendy picked up a book of music and hurled it across the room as if she were an angry toddler. Then she sat down at the foot of her bed and covered her face with her hands.
    Gilda had never seen this side of Wendy, who was almost always in control of her emotions. Maybe Wendy’s big secret is that she throws a little tantrum before every one of her piano competitions , Gilda thought. Maybe her parents have to stuff her into the car kicking and screaming before her performances.
    â€œLook, Wendy, we have to get moving. You can still make it.”
    â€œNo, I can’t!”
    â€œNow don’t your knickers in a twist, luv; we just need to find you a frock to wear and then we can shove off.” For some reason, Gilda felt that an approximation of a northern English accent was best suited to the stressful occasion.
    â€œStop talking in that accent, please.”
    Gilda opened Wendy’s wardrobe and found all of her clothes neatly folded or hanging from hangers. “Hey, how about this little red number?”
    â€œGilda, there’s no point. I knew I was jinxed!”
    Gilda turned to face Wendy with hands on hips. “Wendy, you flew across an ocean to play for these people, so there’s no way you’re going to miss this just because you’re running a little late this morning. Now—just throw on your clothes, curl your eyelashes, and get your butt down to the concert hall!”
    â€œYou don’t understand. I can’t do it.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œThere’s this whole thing I’m supposed to do before I perform.”
    â€œThing? What kind of thing?”
    â€œJust a bunch of stuff I do for luck. Kind of a ritual.”
    â€œYou do a ritual ?” Wendy had never mentioned this before. Maybe you never really know your friends until you travel to England with them and stay in a decaying, haunted house , Gilda thought. “So . . . what does this ritual involve?”
    â€œA bunch of things. It takes some time. I have to shampoo my hair and eat exactly a half a bowl of Cheerios . . .”
    â€œWhy half a bowl of Cheerios?”
    â€œI don’t know why. It’s just something that works for me. See? I knew you would just think I’m weird.”
    Wendy’s ritual involved washing her hair in strawberry-scented shampoo while tapping the fingering of her piano music on her scalp, eating exactly half a bowl of Cheerios with her lucky spoon, brushing her hair twenty times on each side, then closing her eyes and visualizing her entire performance from beginning to end. She had carried out the ritual ever since she won her first