by A. M. Hudson
“Today, Miss Thompson,” said the intolerant imp.
Right, I’ll show him how we handle bullies where I come from.
David smiled and nodded at me, leaning a little closer to watch my fingers as they found their way home to the keys. Okay, you can do this, Ara-Rose. Just breathe. I looked around the room and grinned. “Has any one here heard of the band Mission of Wrights?” I asked loudly.
David nodded and sat back against the table behind him. Everyone else pulled their tables or chairs closer to the piano.
“Go get ‘em, Ara,” Ryan encouraged, with a wave of his fist.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Even Alana moved from her desolation in the corner and stood beside Ryan with her violin still in hand. The world disappeared for a second as I inhaled and felt the cool of the keys under my fingertips—heavy and solid. Breathe.
The first notes of the song filled the air and a familiar flood of excitement rushed through my heart, then flowed down my hands. “This is called Contemplations of the Stand.”
A few people laughed loudly and cheered. Guess they know the song.
As I panned over the notes, feeling the long-forgotten muscles in my hands stretch, I cleared my throat and sung the words. David looked down, keeping a smile hidden behind his eyes as he nodded in time with the music.
On the second verse, I looked over my shoulder when Alana, with her violin in the crook of her neck, played along with me, her notes gently gliding into the song. “Thanks.” I smiled, then looked over at Mr. Grant, tapping his foot and waving his hand through the air like a conductor. “You can never make us back down—” I sung loudly into the echo of the auditorium. My voice flowed, unwavering. “We will rise up from the ground.”
My fingers moved fast and with familiarity. Guess it is like riding a bike. Everyone became a part of the performance—keeping the beat with their hands and feet as I played. It feels good to be playing again, like a cold shower on a hot day or seeing an old friend after years apart.
David’s eyes widened as I sang the words to the chorus, and a smile—a real one—forced itself onto my lips. I forgot how much I love this.
The violin cut out, and I played unaccompanied, drawing the song to an end. The lone piano rang through the stunned silence around me like a sad story being told, and though Bertha doesn’t sound like the electronically tuned piano that I’m used to, she carries the notes just as well.
While my eyes closed, encasing the memories of my old school and the softly-weighted keys of the baby grand piano in the music room there, my fingers played for me, allowing me to drift away to the shores of days when life was simple. It makes me miss my friend, my best friend, whom I had to leave behind so suddenly. He loves music, too. If he’d been in my position just now, I can only imagine the amusing display of rebellion he would’ve performed.
When the song ended, everyone in the room stayed silent. I opened my eyes to look at David. Why are they all staring? Oh, God, I hope I didn’t just faze out again.
David stood up from his seat on the desk and started clapping. Ryan followed, clapping as enthusiastically as a seal at a marine park, and Alana, with her violin between her knees, applauded delicately, half smiling at Ryan.
“Well,” Mr. Grant looked down his long, pointed nose, “I can see I have nothing much to teach you, Miss Thompson.” He turned on his heel and started walking away. “Carry on, people. We will be working on our performance pieces for the Halloween concert.”
My eyes stayed on the keys of the piano until the heavy wooden door to the auditorium closed with an echoed thud behind Mr. Grant. What is that guy’s problem? “Did he expect me to fail?” I asked, looking around the group.
“He does it to everyone new.” Ryan stepped up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
So that must happen a lot, not. “Well, thanks for the heads-up.” I frowned at David. He knew this was coming. Why didn’t he warn me?
“I figured you could handle it.” David looked at Ryan then, and they both laughed.
There’s no way he could’ve known that unless he’s read my student file—which I highly doubt. This is obviously some cruel practical joke they play on new kids. I folded my arms over my chest and huffed. “So what gave you that impression? That I could handle it?”
David stopped laughing and folded his arms, too, looking a little smug. “Your fingers, actually.” He nodded toward my concealed hands.
Slowly, I pulled them out from the fold of my arms and studied my long, thin fingers. My nails used to be perfectly rounded, but look a little worn these days from being munched on so often—but he’s right.
“The hands of a pianist.” He smiled.
Very observant, Mr. Know-it-all. “Fine. I’ll pay that one. But next time, a little warning, thanks.”
“Sure. Well, in that case, maybe you should ditch History class,” David said, holding back a smile. “That guy gives really boring lectures.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” I rolled my eyes, smiling. It’s hard to be annoyed at David—he’s just so sweet, and I have to hand it to him, he was right. I could handle it. I did handle it. I’m grateful to Mrs. Baker now, for the three hours every Tuesday and Thursday where she would painstakingly force me to play piano until my fingers seized up and turned bone-white. Mrs. Baker is one thing I will not miss about my old life.
“Seriously,” David whispered in my ear as the hovering crowd dissipated and went back to their projects, “There was a reason I didn’t tell you about Mr. Grant.”
“I’m listening,” I said, shuffling over so he could sit beside me.
“I was afraid you’d run home.”
I would have. “I’m not that weak. But I could’ve at least prepared myself.”
David smiled to himself, placing his fingers on the keys. “Heart and Soul?”
“Huh?” I looked up at him.
“Heart and Soul. You wanna play it?”
“That’s a little kindergarten, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mozart,” he said with a breathy laugh, “would you prefer a more complicated duet?”
“Can you handle it?” I asked teasingly.
“Young lady, I can handle anything you can dish out.”
That, I strongly doubt.
After David escorted me all the way to third period Math class—even though he wasn’t in my class—I watched him walk away, and fell inside myself at the back of the room while Miss Chester spoke about something to do with numbers. I don’t care for math, and I’m not any good at it.
I didn’t see anyone in class that I recognised from Music, and for the most part, no one bothered to strike up a friendship. So, I sat quietly and thought about David until the teacher said, “Five minutes left to finish those questions and hand them in. If you’ve finished already, you can have an early mark for morning tea.”
A few students jumped up, placed their work on Miss Chester’s desk and left the room. I pushed my unfinished paper aside and reached into my bag to get my map. I’m busting for the toilet. I need to locate the nearest bathroom so I can run there as soon as the teacher sets me free.
Hm, where is it? I reached deeper into my bag and dug around more frantically. I know I had it when I was in the library. I pulled my books, my purse and my notepad out and looked at the base of my empty bag. Oh no! It’s gone.
The familiar rise of panic flushed through my arms and I dropped my face against my hand as the heat rose into my cheeks. I’m ruined! I can see the headlines now: New Girl Lost, Pathetic—and Needs to Pee.
The bell screeched, and I stood slowly, packing my stuff into my bag with the speed of an old lady with arthritis. If I’m the last to leave, no one will know how much of a moron I am for not having a map—not that I could follow it if I still had it, anyway.
As the last of the gossiping dregs shuffled from the room, I herded out behind them, dumping my paper on the teacher’s desk before stepping into the open-aired cor
ridor of the second floor. The hot, damp air brushed over my cheeks and wet my lungs as I breathed it in with a sigh. Okay, if I were a bathroom in this school, where would I be?
As I flung my bag over my shoulder and looked up, my heart stopped when my gaze met with a pair of amazing green eyes, shining out like emeralds. “Need a guide?” David flashed a mischievous grin from where he leaned against the railing with his arms folded over his chest.
God, yes. “Well, I wouldn’t if someone hadn’t taken my map,” I said accusingly, then smiled back as I stood beside him.
“Sorry. But those things are impossible to read, anyway.” He looked down at me. “You’d have gotten lost without me to show the way.”
“Is that so?” My playful tone drew a smile to his lips again.
“Yes.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
He nodded and his smile remained.
“So, are you saying I’m incapable of finding my own way?” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “Only that life is easier when you have someone to walk beside you.”
“Life?”
“Er, yeah, I meant…in the context of getting from A to B.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth, unable to wipe off the sheepish grin. “That was kind of awkward, wasn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah.” I let the laughter out with a breath. He’s got foot-in-mouth-disease almost as bad as me. “You know, Emily warned me about you.”
“She did?” He turned and looked forward as we started walking. He has a very natural stillness about him. Just the way he walks makes me feel more relaxed.
I hugged my books tightly to my chest to stop from flinging my arms around his waist. “Yeah, she said you wouldn’t let me out of your sight,” I added with a grin.
“Did she tell you why she thought that?” He stopped then, and took my math book from my hands, tucking it under his arm—beside his books.
Great, I have no shield now. I watched the math book for a second. “I’m fresh meat.”
“Fresh meat?” He laughed and shook his head, looking away.
“Yeah. You know? A new toy.”
David stayed quiet for a moment, and I watched the other students file past us in a hurry. “You don’t think of me like that, do you? That I am only talking to you because I want something more interesting to play with?” He changed the interpretation—kind of like I just did.
I shook my head. “No, I actually think you might be a very genuinely nice guy.” I know I sound surprised by the idea, but I’ve never come across a guy who’d walk me around the school, talk to me like he’s known me forever and what’s more, carry my books.
David smiled, looking down at the books in his arms. “I guess I can’t really blame Emily for thinking that. I have never shown much interest in anyone at this school, until—” he stopped walking and talking, and the strong burn of lemon-scented bleach made my stomach turn as I leaned against the wall.
“Until what?” My gaze rolled upward to the towering David as he stepped into me, showing absolutely no respect for my territorial bubble.
“Until—today.”
My mouth opened, but only a soft breath came out, stopping as the sweet scent of his vibrant chocolaty cologne forced its way into my heart.
David waited, then nodded to the door beside us. “Did you need to go?”
Go? I forced myself to look to my right—away from his face. Bathroom. Thank God. “I’ll just be a sec.” I rolled away from the wall and passed my backpack to David when he held his hand out for it. The whiney hinges on the bathroom door creaked as I pushed it open, and as it closed behind me, trapping the stifling heat in the only non-air-conditioned room in the school, I stopped dead, hearing the words, “The girl in the yellow dress?”
My ears pricked up.
“Yeah, the new girl,” another replied.
Me? They’re talking about me. Do I go in or walk back out of the room? I mean, is it improper to walk in on people gossiping about you? I should’ve read that in the ‘How to be a New Student Without Looking Like an Idiot’ guide. Oh, wait, they don’t have one.
“What did you think of her?” she continued.
“Well, she’s pretty, I guess.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I mean, did you see how blue her eyes are? Like, so wasted on her face, hey?”
Ouch.
“Yeah, totally. You want some?” the other girl said.
“What scent is it?”
“Sunlight Breeze.”
“Yeah.” A long hiss of a spray can sounded before the sharp, choking fumes of deodorant filled the tiny bathroom. I covered my mouth to hold in the gasping coughs threatening to expose my precarious position. If they knew I heard them it’d be mortifying—for all of us.
“Did you hear what she did in music class?”
“Yeah, what a show-off.”
“You know she’s already got her claws into David Knight?”
My heart jumped to alert with his name.
“Yep. Typical. He doesn’t like her, I heard. He’s just interested in her because she’s wearing a dress and it’s, like, easy access.”
My eyes all but jumped out of my head. How can they be so mean? I held my breath and blinked back hot tears. I can’t let myself cry—especially since I have nowhere to go. I can’t run back out to David. He’ll know, from the look on my face, that something’s wrong, and I don’t want to walk in there and face these girls, either—they’ll know I heard them. I don’t know how to handle that kind of situation. I mean, do I say something or just pretend I didn’t hear?
“He’s way out of her league,” one of them said.
“Yeah, I don’t know what she thinks he wants with her. Did you see the way she fell all over herself when she saw him outside just now?” The girl cackled in a high-pitched tone. She seems to have a lot invested in this conversation. I wonder if she’s a friend of David’s, or maybe an ex-girlfriend or something. Whatever they are to him, though, they’re right. I know he’s out of my league—but I’m not trying to be in his league. I should step around this corner and tell them that.
“I give it a week before he realises she’s not that pretty and loses interest.” The other laughed.
My feet froze half-way through the step, and my stomach continued without me. They must’ve noticed my scars. Suddenly, the walls closed in and the scars along my jawline and neck burned. They’re right. I’m hideous. What would a guy like David ever see in me?
While I stood frozen in humiliated stillness, about to run the other way, they stepped around the corner, and the colour in their faces drained when they saw me. After a tense second of wordless realisation, the tall, blonde girl in the cheer-squad uniform shrugged and walked away. I hid myself in the corner as they opened the door and the bright light filled the room. The dark-haired girl poked her tongue out as she passed me.
I wish I hadn’t worn this stupid dress. My eyes brimmed with tears and I leaned my back against the wall, rolling my face upward. No! I cupped my hand over my quivering chin. I will not cry at school. I’m stronger than this. I drew a few deep breaths and squared my shoulders.
My desperate urge to go to the bathroom faded, and a longing to go home came in its place. I feel so alone here, but now it’s worse because as soon as David gets word that people don’t like me, he’ll stop being my friend.
I feel sick. Really sick.
My hands fell over my belly and the sudden urge to run for the toilet moved my feet. I think I’m gonna puke.
I leaned over the basin and splashed warm water onto my face. I’m so glad I held my breakfast in. After heaving deeply for a minute, I managed to settle my stomach. But what caused that? I never get the urge to throw up. Ever. But then, I’ve never been this nervous before, either.
The mirror displayed all the sadness in my eyes as the voices of the nasty girls replayed in my mind. Way out of her league. A week before he realises she’s not pretty.
It�
�s not so much the truth that hurts, it’s the fear that David might find out what people are saying. I wiped some paper towel slowly over my cheeks and eyes, and stared at myself. Who are you? Who is this girl that can feel like throwing up with the thought that a boy might not like her? I want to slap myself. This is not me.
I leaned close to the sad-looking girl in the mirror. Get over him, Ara-Rose. Look at yourself. You’re hideous. What was I thinking, for that split second out there in the hall when I thought maybe, just maybe the scars didn’t exist? But they do. I ran my hand over the side of my face. What’s weird is that when I look in the mirror, I can’t see them at all. It’s almost as though my mind has subconsciously blacked them out. But I know they’re there—and I know everyone else can see them.
I straightened my shoulders and forced a smile. I have to accept what I am—a hideous beast—and I have to smile. David can’t know we’re attracting gossip. Not yet. I just want a little more time with him. Just for today. That’s all I ask, and I’ll never wish for anything else, ever again. Just him. Just for today.
The summer sun streamed into the corridor outside, and as I stepped into the light, I drew a deep breath and looked sadly at the boy leaning over the railing on the other side. The shadows highlighted the contours of his shoulder blades and the arch of his spine, and I wanted nothing more than to run up to him and tell him everything those girls just said. But this is the real world, and he’d probably freak out and dust me off like a cobweb.
Reality even managed to ruin plan B, running home, because David still had my bag—with my house keys.
He turned around and smiled at me with those kind, warm eyes, and the dormant pain I just forced down rose to the surface again, stinging my eyes with tears. I flattened the front of my dress, blinking rapidly until, as the tears receded, David’s arm landed around my shoulder. He leaned down and with his lips close to my ear, very softly asked, “Are you okay?”
“Mm-hm.” I nodded and smiled, concealing my shaky voice with the wordless response.