I zipped my phone into my pocket and looked at my sister in my dress. “The orchestra keeps a loaner violin backstage for emergencies,” I said. “I texted Maestro Brooks the moment you picked mine up. He’s bringing it now.” Brianna’s face went blank, then red.

But that wasn’t why her lips started trembling. I pointed past Mom at the hallway, where a security camera above the exit sign looked straight through my open door. The theater installed them last spring after a cello was stolen. “The insurance company won’t pay a cent without a police report,” I said quietly. “And that camera saw everything.” Mom grabbed the doorframe. Brianna looked at the lens, then at me, and whispered the one thing I never expected to hear: “Natalie, my background check is next week.”