Eternity

by M.E. Timmons

  Chapter 4

  When the tour was over Paul left to pick up another group at the airport, leaving us to do whatever we wanted. We had passed plenty of other students on our tour who seemed to be enjoying their temporary freedom. Kyle decided to go outside and enjoy the beautiful weather. I turned to Jack to ask him what he wanted to do, but he was already walking away.

  "Where are you going?" I asked, jogging to catch up.

  Jack didn't look at me. "I'm going to go lie down. I think I have jet lag," he lied.

  "Jack -"

  "Don't, Jules. I just want to be alone, okay?"

  I let him go. I could see the swirling torrents of emotion in the colors all around him, and I knew he needed some time to sort out his feelings. He had been overwhelmed by what he had learned, and I couldn't blame him. I couldn't help but feel guilty for not telling him anything sooner.

  I was then alone, standing in a hallway between the north wing and the front entrance. Since I had nothing else to do at the time, I walked toward the grand staircase. Before going up the steps, I stopped to once again study the painting on the wall. There was something so familiar and so comforting about the man's noble features. He was probably the most beautiful person I'd ever seen, which almost made me think that the painting wasn't of a real person, but of someone's idea of perfection. I didn't really believe that though. This man was real, and out there somewhere, which made my heart swell. After pondering for a minute as to why that was, I gave up trying to figure it out and went up the stairs.

  The door to the ballroom was still open, so I went inside. I could imagine hundreds of people in magnificent gowns and suits dancing on the gleaming floors, and felt a desire to do so myself, even though I didn't know how to dance. Soon, I thought, remembering that there was to be a ball. Too bad I had nothing to wear. There was nothing in the letter mentioning the need for a ball gown, and I couldn't have been able to afford one anyway.

  The room was empty. I walked to the glass doors at the far side of the room. Through the panes of glass I could see that there was a courtyard in the middle of the school. The balcony that was on the other side of the doors was fairly large and made of stone. There were stairs on both sides leading down to the gardens below, where I could see a fountain and a gazebo and stone paths trailing through patches of beautiful flowers and trees. There were posts along the paths that were connected above by strings of lights, though they weren't on. I could tell that it would be beautiful at night. There were people wandering around on the paths that went through the gardens. Most of them looked like students, but a few were obviously teachers, and all were enjoying the beautiful day outdoors. I thought of how much Jack would enjoy such a place, and made a mental note to tell him about it later. He had always loved plants of every type.

  Instead of going outside to join the happy people, I walked over to the stage. There were no stairs leading up to it, so I had to climb up to be on the platform. From that height I had an excellent view of the entire room and all of its magnificence.

  Back at Pembrook Home, there had been a piano in one of the rooms downstairs. Only the children who were receiving lessons were allowed to touch the instrument, as the rest just created noise that drove the staff crazy. When I was seven I really wanted to feel the keys beneath my fingers and make beautiful music like one of the older girls, so I asked Mrs. Jameson for lessons. She agreed to start teaching me that evening after supper.

  She wouldn't let me touch the instrument at first. She explained the notes and showed me which keys made which sounds. Then she showed me sheet music, and how it worked. The lesson took up the entire evening, and I had not had a chance to play. Tomorrow, she said.

  The next night we sat down together in front of the piano. "Do you remember what I taught you yesterday?" Mrs. Jameson asked. I nodded. She asked me a few questions to test my knowledge, and I surprised her by answering all correctly. I believed she thought she would have to teach me everything all over again, like with most of her students. She didn't know that I had a perfect memory because I tried not to flaunt it. People disliked me enough already.

  Finally she let me play. She set out some sheet music for me, and it was a very simple song. I played it without mistakes, but I thought it was rather dull. Mrs. Jameson was ecstatic.

  "That was amazing!" she exclaimed. "I have never heard anyone play so flawlessly on their first try!"

  "Could I please play something more interesting?" I asked, rather bored.

  "Oh, of course, dear. I will go get some more sheet music for you." She sped off to the library, eager to see how much I could do, leaving me alone with the instrument.

  Having no one there to tell me not to play, I decided to try playing a little on my own. I let my fingers dance across the keys, and somehow it made a melody. I picked up the pace and added more depth to the song, giving it multiple layers of high and low notes, pouring my heart into it. I was so absorbed in my playing that I didn't notice what was going on around me until I finally let the song end, which was a hard thing to do. When I looked up the room was almost full. It seemed like more than half the people who lived there were in that little room, standing or sitting and listening to me play with wide eyes. Embarrassed, I quickly got up and went to my room before anyone could talk to me.

  From that day on I often had other people begging me to play for them. Sometimes I did, and I always enjoyed it. Mrs. Jameson called me a prodigy and tried to get me interested in signing up for a school of the arts, but I always refused, saying I only played for the joy of it, and didn't want that ruined. The real reason was that I didn't like playing other people's music, which I would undoubtedly be forced to do.

  Jack often sat and listened when I played. I tried to get him to take lessons himself, but he said I played well enough for the both of us. He wouldn't even try learning to play another instrument. I was a little disappointed because I thought it would be a fun thing to do together, but I knew he feared being overshadowed and wanted to find something of his own that he was good at. I ended up always playing alone, but I loved it anyway.

  And so, of course, when I saw that beautiful grand piano on the stage I couldn't help but go over and study it. It was a much more majestic instrument than the one at Pembrook, and it was kept in such good condition that it looked like it was brand new, though I didn't believe it was because of the style. Since there was no one in the room I figured it wouldn't bother anyone too much if I played a little bit.

  The sound that came out of the instrument as I played was as beautiful as the instrument itself, and I quickly became absorbed by it. I let my feelings flow through my fingers, pouring out my joy into the song.

  I sat playing for what felt like an eternity before I realized that I was no longer alone. I stopped playing immediately and looked around, but I didn't see anyone at first.

  "Wow," I heard from the wings of the stage. A figure stepped out from behind the curtain that revealed itself to be that of a young man, clearly another student. He was surprisingly handsome, with neat brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing black pants and a black sweater that had a dark green pattern knitted in.

  "Sorry, I didn't realize that anyone was here," I said, standing to leave. I hit my knee on the piano in my haste, and it hurt, but I ignored the pain.

  "Don't apologize. I've never heard anyone play like that before," he said. He had a strong English accent.

  "Well, it's not something I do very often," I said, silently cursing my own clumsiness. "When I saw the piano I couldn't resist. It's the nicest one I've ever seen."

  "You must be new here then. Do you like it so far?" He came and sat casually on the piano bench that I had just vacated. He looked like a model posing for an ad, though I knew he wasn't consciously trying to appear that way.

  "I've been here less than two hours, but the place is certainly beautiful. I've never seen anywhere quite like it
before."

  "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. I hope you don't think me rude for asking, but is music your ability? I mean, are you a hero?"

  "Oh, no it isn't. To be honest I don't know what I am."

  "That's unusual. Most people know because we're like our parents. Do your parents have different abilities?"

  "I don't know," I told him. "They died in a car accident when I was three. I was at home with a babysitter at the time. I still remember them perfectly, but I don't remember them ever doing anything unusual."

  He looked away, and I could see his sympathy in his aura. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly. "I don't know what I would have done without my parents. They helped me a lot with understanding what I was when I was growing up."

  "You're a wizard, aren't you?"

  "Yes, how did you know?" He seemed quite surprised.

  "I can see your aura," I told him.

  "Ah. And I don't even know your name," he said, laughing to cover his discomfort. He knew what an aura was, so he knew what my ability meant.

  "I'm Juliet," I said, smiling. He relaxed.

  "That name suits you well. I'm sure you break hearts every day," he joked. "My name is Michael. This is my third year here, so if you ever need help finding anything, feel free to ask me."

  "Sure. I'll see you around," I said, and I jumped off the stage. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked toward the door. I was a little eager to get away because I could tell he was attracted to me. I had to deal with that enough as it was, though at least he was the polite type.

  "Wait!" he shouted, and I heard him jog toward me. I turned, inwardly sighing.

  "It's time for lunch," he said when he stopped in front of me. "Care to join me?"

  "Yeah, I guess," I answered. He was a nice guy, so I figured it couldn't hurt to get to know him better. I wouldn't mind being his friend, I thought.