“Are you feeling okay?” Emily asked, concerned. “You’ve been acting weird all day, ever since… you know…” She made a face. “Dunstan. What was that all about?”

Ophelia lowered her head. I really should tell her, she thought. Tell her, and get it over with.

“Emily,” she said slowly, “Dunstan is a very bad person. You may think you know how he is, but you just don’t know. But I think maybe now I should tell you.”

Emily tilted her head, both puzzled and intrigued. “What did he do to make you hate him so much?” she asked.

Ophelia sighed and began to tell her story.


Growing up, Ophelia and Charise had been rivals. Charise, as the older and more “conventional” of the two, was rewarded with attention and praise, and she was showered with everything she wanted. Ophelia, on the other hand… silent, dark Ophelia, who seemed to fear most social events, who locked herself in her room to read and draw undisturbed… she frightened, or at least worried, most of her relatives. Sociable, cheery Charise was undeniably the favored one.

As the years passed, this only became more evident. Ophelia, who had befriended S not long after he and Charise met, had a small crush on him, but he ignored her, in favor of Charise.

Charise. Lovely Charise. How Ophelia both admired and hated her!

Ophelia wanted to take something from Charise, to knock her down a notch, to possess something that Charise desired. But she knew that it was futile. After all, what chance did Ophelia-- who only had two friends and had to force herself to be social most of the time-- have of ever surpassing her older cousin?


“That’s all well and good,” Emily interrupted. “I mean, it does suck that Charise got all the attention and all. But what does that have to do with Dunstan?”

“Everything,” Cy interrupted.

Ophelia nodded. “Right. Well, one year, Charise wanted piano lessons…”


Charise wanted piano lessons. But her father had trouble finding a suitable instructor. Desperate, he relayed his concerns to his brother-in-law.

“I just don’t know,” Preston said. “I’m glad Charise has taken an interest in music, but I’m worried that I won’t find a food enough piano teacher.”

“Calm down,” Mr. Foley said, patting Preston’s shoulder. “I think I can help.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and continued, “One of my students will be teaching music class, starting this summer.”

Preston read the card aloud slowly: “Dunstan Diggory, music teacher. Skilled in playing and instructing on guitar and piano.”

Mr. Foley leaned in close and whispered, “He’s descended from the oil giants.”

“Those Diggorys?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he any good?”

“I gave him an A. And you know what a strict grader I am.”

Preston whistled, impressed. “That good, huh? Well, talk to him and see what he can do.”

“He’s coming over today for dinner. I’ll bring it up then.”


“Wait, he was her piano teacher?” Emily shrieked.

“You didn’t know?” Cy asked.

Emily shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, yeah. But wait. It gets better,” Ophelia continued.


“Dunstan, it’s so nice to have you here for dinner,” Viola Foley gushed. She was clearly impressed by the attractive young man.

“Well, thank you,” Dunstan replied. “It’s a pleasure to be here. What a lovely home.” His eyes settled on Nathaniel and Ophelia. “And what adorable children.”

“Nathaniel’s five, and Ophelia is twelve,” Viola said proudly.

“Almost thirteen,” Ophelia spoke up.

Dunstan knelt and held his hand out for a high-five. “Hey, little dude,” he greeted Nathaniel.

“Hey,” Nathaniel grinned, lightly slapping Dunstna’s hand.

Dunstan ruffled the little boy’s hair as he rose, and then he turned his attention to Ophelia. Grinning, he offered his hand for her to shake.

“And the lovely and charming Miss Ophelia. Your dad always talks about you. I hear you’re quite the artist and musician.”

Ophelia giggled, a bit shy about the attention. “Yeah, I play guitar,” she replied.

“I play guitar too,” Dunstna remarked, “but it sure does nasty things to your fingertips, eh?”

“Yeah,” Ophelia replied. “When I first started playing, my fingertips actually bled a few times.” Ophelia flushed a little and hastened to say, “Sorry, that was really gross.”

Dunstan chuckled and finally released Ophelia’s hand. She hadn’t noticed that he’d been clutching her hand the whole time. “Not at all,” he replied. “I dealt with the same thing.”

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Viola chirped. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”


“Well, he seemed pretty nice then,” Emily mused. “I wonder what changed him.

“Nothing changed,” Ophelia said slowly, eyes narrowed to slits. “It was all an act to get us to like him. He was as much of a slime ball then that he is now. Only difference is that he doesn’t bother to hide it anymore."