Living for the Music

“Seth?” I called, heading upstairs. I pushed open his door without bothering to knock.

“Hey, Beth, I’ll call you back, okay?” I heard Seth murmur. “What? No, nothing important… Hanging out with my family.”

I backed out of the room, as I spotted him pacing, with the phone pressed to his ear. I headed back downstairs and out the door. The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I made my way to the garage.

This time, I waited for an answer after knocking on the door. “Nathan?” I called.

“Sophie? Come on in,” he replied. I pushed the door open and maneuvered past the car to the ladder perched on one side of the room. I climbed the well-worn rungs until I reached the loft that was Nathan’s bedroom.

Nathan was lying on the bed at the far end. He threw the magazine he’d been looking at on the table next to him as he sat up, dark hair falling across his eyes. For a moment, he looked so much like Seth I bit back my words. Instead, I glanced around at the rest of the room.

“You’ve reorganized,” I observed. His desk had been shoved into the other corner, leaving room for a huge rug in the middle. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the paint-stained sheet blocking off one corner of his room. I collapsed on one of the beanbags strewn about amidst the unnamable chaos that covered his floor. The remodeling definitely hadn’t cleaned the room at all.

“A little,” he shrugged. “I just wanted to paint the ceiling up here, but then I had to move the trunk so it just made more sense to move the rest of the stuff.”

I glanced for a moment at the wooden trunk that I knew he kept all his clothes in before looking up at the ceiling. “Wow,” I breathed. “That looks amazing.”

I couldn’t tell exactly what the painting was supposed to be, but it looked cool. There were swirls of color all over, mixing and crossing and creating complex designs. Looking at it, I couldn’t tell whether the patterns were intentional or accidental – and in the long run, it really didn’t matter.

“Yeah, it turned out really nice,” he agreed, and I tore my eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. “Good thing, too – it would’ve been a pain in the a – butt, to try to repaint over it.”

“How long did it take you to do?” I asked curiously.

“Forever,” he admitted. “I had to paint it in segments. Otherwise I think my neck would be permanently stuck in that position. Looking up takes a lot of effort.”

He glanced around at the floor. “Plus it as a pain to clean up after. I’ve discovered that the rules of gravity also apply to dripping paint. You wouldn’t believe how many sheets I went through, trying to keep the floor clean.”

“It looks fantastic,” I sighed. “You should do my room.”

“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “Oh, and I meant to tell you…” He stood up and drew back the curtain that separated his room and his art studio. “I finished your painting.”

I followed him back, taking in the comfortable clutter of the room. On one side was a bigger desk, covered with pens and pencils scattered around a leather-bound sketchpad. Two easels were set up on this side of the curtain, both covered in white, paint-flecked sheets. I waited eagerly as he walked up to one of them, posing dramatically before pulling back the sheet. “Wow,” I breathed, walking up to take a closer look.

It was me… but not me. I had seen a quick sketch of the picture almost a year ago, but Nathan hadn’t shown me anything since, saying it would ‘jinx the creative process’ or something like that. He had painted me glancing over my shoulder, with my hair blowing behind me. It looked exactly like me, only the girl in the portrait was more beautiful than I would ever be. Her brown eyes seemed to sparkle, and her lips were slightly curved in a smile. It was definitely one of Nathan’s best pieces.

“Holy crap,” Seth murmured behind me. I jumped slightly, unsure how I missed hearing him come inside.

“Do you like it?” Nathan asked hesitantly.

“I love it,” I assured him.

“It looks just like her,” Seth agreed, eyes still focused on the girl.

“She’s so much prettier than I’ll ever be,” I countered.

“No,” Seth disagreed. “That’s exactly how you look.”

I blushed slightly, aware that he was only telling me that so I didn’t feel bad. “It’s awesome, Nathan,” I added. “Totally amazing.”

His grin reappeared as he pulled it off the stand. “It’s yours,” he announced, handing it too me.

“No way,” I protested, backing up. “I can’t take it.”

“I’m giving it to you,” he replied. “You’ll hurt my feelings if you turn it down.”

I couldn’t help laughing at the pathetic expression on his face. “Are you sure? You don’t want it for your portfolio or anything?”

“I took a picture of it,” Nathan answered, “so I can at least show it off. Seriously, I made it for you. I never planned on keeping it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging it to my chest. “I love it.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Take it to remember me when we’re gone.”

I was so happy I missed the funky wording of his sentence, missed the sharp glance that Seth shot his brother. “I’m gonna go put it someplace safe,” I called over my shoulder as I headed down the ladder, carefully cradling the painting under one arm.

“Wait for me,” Seth called. I paused at the bottom of the ladder, waiting for the two brothers to scramble down. Together, we headed towards the gate. I wasn’t willing to hop the fence, carrying the picture in my arm.

“See you in a minute?” Seth asked as I headed towards my front door.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over,” I replied. For once, I didn’t bother to listen to see if my dad was home. I ran right upstairs, carefully placing the painting on my desk. I took another look at myself, still in awe of the piece of me Nathan managed to show, before turning and walking back downstairs.

I walked into the kitchen, intending to go out the backdoor and continue my tradition of hopping the fence. “Sophia!” my dad called, stopping me in my tracks. I took a deep breath before turning to face him. He was standing at the dining room window, looking out it as he took a swig out of the beer bottle he was holding. “What were you doing over there?”

“What?” I asked, confused. I’d been at Seth’s multiple times – he’d never cared before.

“You heard me,” he spat. “What were you doing?”

“We were talking… Nathan was showing me this picture--”

“Come off it, girl. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.” He set his beer bottle down, stepping closer to me. “I know what you guys were doing in the garage.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, beginning to get a little frightened. He’d never hit me before – I’d be gone in a second if that happened. But there was a first time for everything.

“I know what boys are like at this age,” he growled. “I didn’t raise my daughter to be a slut.”

“You mean… Dad, that’s Nathan’s bedroom!”

“Exactly!” he cried. “Sophia, I thought I raised you better. Two of them at once… what are people going to say about you?”

“Nothing,” I replied, shaking with anger. “Because they know I wouldn’t do that, Dad. Nathan’s like my brother. And Seth…”

“This is how girls get a reputation, Sophia,” he continued, ignoring my denial. “If you don’t look out, you’ll end up pregnant before you turn fifteen. Look what that did to your mother.”

The tears I’d been holding back streamed out of my eyes. I resisted the urge to punch him, to try to hurt him like he was hurting me. He was bigger than me, stronger than me, and if push came to shove he would win. Instead, I headed out the door and over to my safe house.