“Time for pick up?”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. I roll my eyes, and he’s up and on his feet in an instant. When he reaches me, my breath hitches as his fingers skim over mine, then he takes the cello from my grasp. I watch him carry it across the room, secure it in the cupboard, then walk toward the door and wait for me to exit. I’m pulling the keys from my pocket when he snatches them off me, locks up, and takes my hand, guiding me to the parking lot and drives me to Cynth’s. Again.
Kingsley
“Taking pity on the poor, huh?”
I slam my locker door shut, and she cringes.
“Suz,” I growl.
“What? I think we all gotta give to charity at least once in our lives.”
I clench my jaw, narrow my eyes, and her smile only grows. “I’m joking, I’m joking. God, you don’t need to be Mr. Serioso all the time.” She clutches her books tighter to her chest and winks at me.
I pull my bag over my shoulder and start down the hallway.
“I think it’s kinda cute. She’s quite pretty. If she’d just get a new wardrobe, or get those split ends tamed, she’d be quite a knockout.”
I glare at her and she laughs.
“That’s good. Now I know you actually do care. I was wondering if it was just a bit of dirty business, but now I know you have genuine feelings for the girl.”
I stop walking, let out a breath and look at her. “I do, so I’d appreciate it if you leave her alone.”
“It’s not me you need to worry about. It’s that ex of yours.”
“Yeah, your best friend.”
She raises her hands. “Hey, I’m not getting involved with that one. She’s . . .”
“What?”
“She’s your problem.” She pushes her finger into my chest. “Good chat, Kings.” Then she slaps my shoulder.
I shake my head, and mutter, “Yeah, great.”
Maddison
The lull of a piano, despite how beautiful it is, snaps me out of my daze. I open my eyes, and my gaze immediately darts to the opposite side of the music room.
Dumbfounded as I am, I gasp. Sitting at the piano, playing the most beautiful song, is Kingsley. He can play the piano? What the hell?
His eyes are closed and his head and body roll with each note that floods the room. I’m mesmerized as I stare at him. Each key he pushes has so much emotion, so much force, like he’s getting something off his chest. When he stops, I don’t want him to, but I don’t want him to know that either. I bite my lip and cross my arms. “How did you get in here?”
He closes the lid to the piano and rests his elbows on it. He doesn’t look at me straight away. I watch his shoulders rise as he takes a breath, then he lifts his head. I don’t think I’ve seen him look so content. The dark bags beneath his eyes have faded, and there’s a brightness to what once was dull skin. “What, no applause? That’s a first.”
It takes everything in me to keep a straight face when all I want to do is laugh. I shake my head and smirk. The corner of his mouth pulls back into an easy smile, revealing two dimples, which does something to me, something I wish they didn’t. Teasing—no, torturing—those butterflies in my stomach. Somehow I refrain myself from showing any emotion.
I don’t know why or how he could stare at me for so long. I’ve never seen his eyes linger on anyone’s for more than a few seconds, not even his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend. It’s weird, creepy weird, but it’s making me feel hot and clammy. I have no choice, I have to avert my gaze from his, or I’ll pass out from the intensity.
“I locked the door,” I mutter.
“Mr. Barner seems to like students who wish to fulfill extra-curricular activities.”
Oh no, what has he done? He most definitely likes those kinds of students. I panic. “You can’t be in here.”
He stands up and moves towards me. I stiffen in my seat. His voice is deep and demanding, and my breath comes to a halt as he stands a few feet in front of me. “Why not?”
I look up from the ground, running my gaze up his legs, over his chest to his arms—arms that should be covered. I force my eyes up to his face. He’s smiling as if he noticed my lingering gaze, and I blush, trying to think up an excuse. When I come up with nothing, I stutter, “B–because.”
He holds my gaze, and says, “Not a very good excuse for a thief, or convincing for that matter. I thought you’d be better than that.”
That quickly pulls me back to reality. I scowl at him but he seems to be amused. He snickers. “I might as well make myself useful instead of just waiting for you in the hallway.”
“I said I can get home by myself.” He’s already dropped me off one too many times.
He presses his lips together in a tight line, holds my gaze for a few more seconds then returns to the piano and sits down. I gape at him and grip my cello by the neck. He lifts the lid, placing his hands on the keys as he looks up at me. “Are you ready?” His voice is soothing and it sends a little thrill down my spine.
Yes, I’m ready. I’m freaking ready. No, Maddison. No, you are not ready. You will never be ready.
I huff, but with what I’ve gathered, this guy doesn’t seem to take no for an answer. Maybe we do have a few things in common.
“Are you seriously not going to leave?”
“I’m seriously not going to leave.”
I narrow my eyes, but his smile only widens. “Oh, God. Fine.”
I close my eyes to block out his face, but the image of him smiling seems to be burned into my mind. I shake my head to get rid of it, settling into my peaceful place as I start to play.
After a few minutes, the lull of the piano joins in, and we play together. It’s the most magical thing I’ve ever experienced. The bow sits in the groove in my hand, and I push harder. The indents on my fingers easily switch from chord to chord. No matter what I do, he seems to be able to follow along. He’s good. Real good. Shit.
The voice of the instruments integrate harmoniously. An echo of a creation. The sound transports me to an invisible world and I am at peace.
I open my eyes to applause. Mr. Barner is leaning against his desk, grinning. I look to the clock behind him. It’s just past five, which means we’ve been playing for over an hour. I glance at Kingsley, and he’s looking at me with that smile. I quickly look back to Mr. Barner when he speaks. “That’s what you’re doing for your audition.”
I frown. “What?”
“That. What you just played.” He pulls himself up off his desk and looks between us. “I’ve never heard you play like that before. That is what you’re doing to get into Juilliard. You’re playing that piece with him.”
My jaw drops and I gape at him, momentarily stunned. “W–what?”
No. I can’t play with Kingsley. I don’t need to look at him to see his reaction, I know there’s a smirk on his face.
“You heard me.”
Mr. Barner is dead serious.
Dead.
Serious.
He wants me to play with Kingsley, and there is no way I am going to change his mind. Slowly, I pivot my head, and sure enough, there’s a small smile playing on his lips. God.
I whip my head back to Mr. Barner. I can feel the panic consuming me. My heart races in my chest, pounding against my ribs, and the slippery slickness of sweat forms on my palms. “I can’t—”
“Would you be interested in performing with Maddison to help her get into Juilliard? I can, of course, give you extra credit.”
I turn to face Kingsley, to hear his answer. He is still staring at me. His green eyes darken, letting the longest few seconds pass, and then he nods.
I gasp. “What?”
“Great. You’ll need to practice a lot. After school, and I write Maddison a pass for her chemistry class. Can you commit to that much time?”
I’m sure this is all just a joke for him, the humor is clear on his face. “Yes, except for Tuesday and Thursday. I have lacrosse practice.”
�
�That’s fine.” Mr. Barner rubs his hands together, grinning. “This is amazing.” He claps, then gestures for us to carry on. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maddy, lock up?”
I nod half-heartedly, not trying to hide my annoyance, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Congratulations,” he says as he exits the room.
“For what?” I shout after him.
He looks over his shoulder, holding the door open in front of him and says, “For when you get into Juilliard.”
I swallow back the anxiety, but most importantly, I shove back down the excitement.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I whip my head to Kingsley. “What are you doing?”
His expression is calm. “Playing the piano.”
“No,” I growl. “What are you doing?”
He leans forward slightly, letting one arm fall onto the piano. The crash of keys echo through the room and I wince at the sound. “If it helps you get into Juilliard, then I’m playing the piano.”
I nervously clear my throat. “But . . . but—”
“At least now I have a reason to follow you around.” He winks.
Maddison
The next few days follow the same pattern. Kingsley shows up to every practice and we play together for hours. Both nights, we get carried away, and the cleaners have to kick us out. Each night, he insists on driving me home, and I doubt tonight will be any different.
I haul my cello across the room and somehow manage to trip over my own feet. Just before my face meets the floor, I’m stopped mid-fall. Kingsley’s hands grip my arms, and I’m breathing heavily. He pulls me to my feet.
I stiffen as I feel the warmth of his breath on my face. I want to breathe it in, but I can’t move. His hands are still holding onto my arms, and the contact is doing strange things to me. My heart races, and I can’t seem to think straight. I stare at his lips before my gaze darts to his eyes. There’s a smugness in them that snaps me out of whatever this damn trance is. I clear my throat, and the warmth around my arm disappears as he lets go of me.
“You know, for a thief, you’re not very . . . fluid.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. He’s confident.
Motherfucker.
I purse my lips to stop the smile that wants to show itself. “Yeah, my clumsiness is kind of an issue.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been caught.”
“I nearly have.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“I have battle scars to prove it.”
“Battle scars? I’m envious. Show me.”
I lean my cello against the piano, lift my foot up onto the seat, and pull up my jeans. “Dog bite. Nearly died.”
“No way.” His finger trails over the scar and a shiver shoots up my leg.
I point to the scars on my shins. “From whacking my legs when I jump through the windows.”
His head falls back, and he laughs. “I really don’t know how you haven’t been caught.”
“Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I mumble, as I pull my jeans back down. “I bet you can’t beat that.”
His hand touches mine, and my breathing hitches. For a moment, we both stare at our grasp, and then he brings my hand up to his head and presses my fingers to a thick scar underneath his hair. It’s raised above his head. My eyes widen, and I meet his. “My dad pushed me down the stairs when I was eleven. My head cracked open.”
My heart stills and my breath catches in my throat.
He lets my hand go, and shrugs. “But that’s it. You win.”
I can’t speak. I struggle to think of anything to say. I don’t know why I assumed everything was perfect for him, and I immediately feel guilty. “I think you win that one,” I say quietly.
He steps in closer, so he is only inches from me. “Do you like your scars?” he murmurs. I lift my gaze, and the intensity makes my breath falter.
I have to end whatever this is so I force myself to act calm. I smile, shrug my shoulders and say, “Hell yeah, means I can show how tough I am.”
His eyes narrow. “I know you’re not that tough, Maddy. I can see you,” he says in a smooth tone, and I swallow.
“And can I see you, Kingsley?” I whisper.
He stares deep into my eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Are you looking?”
I don’t know if I was, but I know my eyes have opened now.
He takes a step back, and I can suddenly breathe again. “I like my scar.” He pauses. “It’s a reminder of someone I never want to become.”
I can see so much pain in his eyes, and I wonder why I had never looked before.
I want him to open up about it and tell me, but I know not to pry.
I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he walks to the piano with his back to me. As soon as he’s sitting in his seat, he meets my gaze. “We better start practicing, or Mr. Barner might give us a scar of his own.”
A small smile spreads across my face. I move towards my seat. As I look up at him, I can’t stop wondering what happened.
I hold the cello in my arms with a new sense of energy.
I feel different.
Kingsley
As soon as I push open the front door, I’m greeted by my father. Great, just the welcome committee I want. He folds his arms across his chest, and his dark eyes bore into mine. I shift my backpack on my shoulder and stalk past him.
“I thought I told you to fix it,” he growls.
I stop a few feet in front of him. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
He scoffs, and I turn around. “Yes, you do. You live under my roof. You use my money—”
I clench my hands into fists at my side. “Then I’ll fucking move out! I’m sick of this, Dad. It’s not like you care about me anyway. I’ve done nothing but try to please you my whole life, and then when you finally talk to me, when you finally look me in the eye, it’s like you want to kill me. You don’t think I’ve suffered enough? I wanted to kill myself all those years, and if you had noticed, I tried. I’m not standing around in your shadow anymore, and I’m not doing this to please you. Because no matter what, you don’t care, so what’s the point?”
I don’t know what came over me. He grabs my arm and pulls me back. I watch his hand rise into the air, and then it comes firing towards me. The punch is hard. I curse and stagger back, clasping my throbbing cheek. I look up to him, my nostrils flaring. I’m just about to lose it, just about to tackle him to the floor, when my mom screams.
“Craig! How dare you?”
“He ruined this family—”
“No, you ruined this family.” She runs to me and ushers me back through the halls, towards the eastern wing of the house, away from my father. And the entire time I can’t stop thinking about what he said, and how true it is. I ruined this family.
Maddison
Phoebe jumps into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I hold her tight. “I missed you, Pugs,” I whisper into her ear, and she giggles.
“I miss yew,” she says in that adorable baby voice of hers.
“Be quiet, Phoebe!” Jack yells from his position on the floor in front of us. He has his hands behind his head, and his legs kicked out in front of him. Phoebe lifts her hands to her cheeks, and her eyes widen. I wink at her, and she giggles again.
The commercials come on the TV, and Jack jumps to his feet. “I’m going to be Captain Jack one day!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah, Jack.” Tilly rolls her eyes as she puts her book down.
“Miss Phoebe, shouldn’t you be asleep now? Your sisters are.” I tap her nose, and she giggles again.
“Angela gave her a candy bar before you got home, she won’t be sleeping for a while,” Tilly says.
“Ahh, that explains it.”
She sits up in an instant. “More candy?” It’s amazing what sugar can do to kids.
I shake my head. “No, no more for you.”
She moans, her tiny lips pulling into a
pout.
“That’s not going to get you any, either, so I’d quit that if I were you,” I say, and pull her into me, blowing into her stomach. She squeals and wriggles in my grasp, trying to free herself.
I place her on the floor and she stumbles to the other side of the room to get her doll. “Baby,” she says and hands it to me.
“How much longer will you be practicing late?” Tilly asks. I can see the pain in her eyes, and it makes my heart hurt. I feel like saying ‘until I make it right for us’, but I can’t. I hate leaving them here by themselves, but I have to.
“Not much longer.”
She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even show any emotion, just settles back into the corner of the couch and carries on reading.
“Madz, did you know I got first place in our cross country today?” Jack flashes me a toothy grin.
“Did you? That’s so cool!” I smile, but as I glance at Tilly over my shoulder that overwhelming dread creeps back up my spine. Her shoulders are hunched way more than they should be for someone her age.
“Oh, Captain Jack’s back on. Everyone be quiet!” He plonks himself back on the ground.
Phoebe jumps back into my lap and turns to face the TV. I wrap my arms across her stomach, and she leans back into my chest. My glance drifts to each of them. The thought of them having to go through what I’ve been through scares me to death.
I will make it. For them, I would do anything.
Maddison
I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to go to school. I can only think of one reason why but I refuse to admit it to myself. I serve up breakfast for the kids, and worry my lower lip when I realize there isn’t much for lunches, and I have no money to offer them. I’ve been so preoccupied lately. I kiss each of them on the head before I rush out the door, making a mental note to stop by the pawn shop to sell the necklace I picked up from the party the other night.
Stolen Songs Page 6