Give Me Your Hand

“Where’s my binder?” I called, digging through the unorganized black shelf that was supposed to have been the location of my thick, blue binder. Not only did it have all of the music I needed for our practice this class period, but it held all of my classwork and grades from the entire year. That stupid book was my life in music.

I straightened up and turned around, bumping into a much taller, much more muscular figure. Green eyes met mine and a smirk danced across the lips of the jerk in front of me.

“Hey, Sea-sick,” He taunted.

“What do you want, Frasier?” I made a face.

“My binder?” He said as if it were obvious. Which, it was as the whole class was supposed to get theirs and we all kept them on the same two shelves.

“Well, have you seen mine?” I tried to be nice, I really needed my binder.

“No, should I have?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, forget it.” I pushed past him.

“Hey, Sea-sick, your hair is straight!” He laughed as I walked away. My hair is sort of curly naturally, loose curls, and I like them.

Except during double music theory, when I get teased about having curly hair by Frasier and his friends.

Most girls are jealous that he even talks to me. He’s one of the hypes of the senior class, and I’m just a sophomore. He hardly talks to anyone, he’s usually really shy and quiet except around his friends.

I wish he was shy and quiet with me, I’d rather not hear what he has to say about me.

I finally located my binder under Greg’s drum kit. I think he hid it there, probably with Frasier’s permission. Greg’s usually really nice and funny, he laughs all the time and he’s almost always in a good mood. Even if he isn’t, he’ll try his best to make you smile. So, obviously, the idea of him hiding my binder without Frasier suggesting it was absurd.

“Need help, Sea-sick?” I inwardly groaned, arm up as I reached for my violin on top of the bookshelf. I couldn’t reach, I was only average height at 5’4” and that doesn’t reach the top of the bookcase.

“Stop calling me that! You’re so juvenile!” I hissed, still reaching. He got it with no problem, he hadn’t even stood on his tip-toes. I made a face, reaching for the case in his hand. “I abhor you, give me that.”

“You what? Sorry, all I heard was ‘whore.’” He winked. “You wanna fuck or something, Sea-sick?”

“No, just give me my fucking violin!”

“Rheed!” My music teacher snapped and I almost started crying right there. She had never last named me before, I was one of her favorite students, she’d never been upset with me. “Language.” She warned.

I nodded and carried my case back to my desk, setting it on the floor next to my flute and guitar.

“Does everyone have all of the music? Check the board and then your binders.” Our teacher instructed and I read off the list on the board, reading down my separate binder dividers to match names to assure I had all of the pieces I needed.

I nodded and so did the people around me.

“You and Z should just date and get it over with, so much sexual tension.” The blonde girl beside me whispered. I looked at Kelly with an unamused expression. She was a year younger than me, a freshman, and sort of close with Frasier or “Z” as he prefers to be called. I don’t call him by that, I could care less. I prefer to be called CC or at least Cecilia, but he calls me sea-sick so that’s not going to happen, clearly.

“You guys would be cute.” She prompted and I shook my head. “Or at least fuck, just get it all out. Admit it, you totally want him.”

“Is he trying to get you to convince me to sleep with him just so he can say he fucked me?” I frowned at her.

“No, actually, when I brought it up to him today, he told me he thought you were a crazy bitch...” She gave me an innocent smile, “But I thought I’d ask you anyways.”

“Great to know.” I nodded. “Tell him I feel the same way about him.”

She sighed and turned back to the board to watch my teacher set up the papers on her podium. Kelly and I hurried to get our music stands and instruments out.

“Oh, look, she’s playing violin.” Frasier laughed, “Cover your ears, this song will sound like a lumberjack hit it.”

“Shut up, at least I can play an instrument.” I shot back, placing my binder onto the stand carefully so it didn’t tip.

“I can too, Sea-sick, I play five instruments, and my violin playing is at least advanced, yours is just mediocre.”

“Well, mediocre is pretty good considered I started playing last month and still know more than you.” I pointed out, “Anyhow, I have ten instruments to worry about playing, don’t talk.”

“Can you not talk either? Your voice is making me sea sick!” He shoved into me a little.

“Why won’t you date him?” Kelly asked when I got back. “He’s everything you want in a guy! He’s hot, he’s tall, he’s in a band, he plays more than one instrument and I know that’s a big plus with you--”

“You forgot one thing, Kellz.” I told her, turning the page and resting my violin under my chin. I turned my head and my eyes to watch our conductor carefully for the down beat and tempo, though I had this song memorized.

“What’s that?” She asked quietly, also turning with her clarinet at her lips, ready to start.

“Frasier Jacobsen is an asshole.”