Give Me Your Hand

“...oh, undefined.” I finished the last five instrumental measures on the piano in front of me and the class burst into applause. Our chord progressions assignment from last month had finally turned into full-fledged pieces and what had originally started as a flute solo that jumped from 4/4 to 3/4 to 6/8 had become a mini-pop sounding piano-vocal acoustic in 4/4 and 5/4.

I’m really self conscious about performing, but I’m worst when it’s something I’ve written myself. Internally, I was ready to die. But, the class seemed to love it.

“That was gorgeous, CC. I think you’ve got a real future in the music industry, if not as a performer, most certainly as a writer.” I smiled at our teacher and nodded my thanks, removing my little, personal black binder with the music I had just typed up in its clutches. I hadn’t wanted to bring my original, for fear of me doing something stupid and ruining it. The original, handwritten copies were always the best with their penciled in notes and eraser marks.

“Awe, Sea-sick’s going to be a writer.” Frasier cooed quietly as I passed him to sit down. “Well, she won’t get any business from us.”

“And why’s that?” Jared joined in, with a knowing expression on his face.

“Yeah, why is that?” Kristopher agreed with a look that expressed just how deeply in thought he was pretending to be. Suddenly, he grinned, “Oh, right, because we write our own music and perform it, too!”

Greg shot me an apologetic glance.

“Z, man, leave her alone.” He sighed.

Frasier laughed but complied, turning away and pretending to be his old quiet self again.

Girls like him because he’s in a band, and they think he’s hot for some stupid reason, and he’s the “quiet, mysterious type.” Quiet my fucking ass, he won’t leave me alone. I’ve lived two years like this.

“It’s the music room, he gets all of his security here.” Greg told me as we exited the class. I snorted. “Really, CC, he’s insecure about everything, even his music. But insecure or not, music is all he feels like he has and he puts everything into it.”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Thanks for defending me, Greg.” I hugged him quickly, “I have to get to class.”

He frowned, but nodded and I hurried down the hall and out of the way.

It was later that day, when I came back after school, when I decided to think about what Greg had said.

I needed to get my flute and my violin, I had Mendelssohn and Mozart pieces to practice. It was four o’clock now, I had first had a meeting for our Thespian festival team, so it was late. Most people wouldn’t be hanging around the back hallways at this hour, most of the back hallways aren’t even open. The school leaves the arts hallway open, though, if there’s a meeting for some form of the department (i.e. Thespian). It’s convenient, and it helps a lot, saving time for the musicians who need to grab instruments before they leave and who would otherwise have to search around for an adult with a key to the gate.

Music was coming from the theory classroom. I frowned, no one should even be here, not even me, not this late. It was pretty though, and I suppose whoever it was had reason to be there.

The music changed from modern, something from a musical I think it had been, to old school Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata, my favorite of all Beethoven pieces. I heard a sour note and a growl of frustration.

“God damn it! This is an eight year-old’s piece! Why the fuck do I keep screwing up?” I knew that voice anywhere and I inwardly groaned, but I tread lightly into the room anyways. I threw a glance at the piano and Frasier’s eyes were wide.

“Hey, I just needed to get my stuff.” I said softly, turning back towards the bookcase and making my way over to it.

“Hurry up.” But his voice didn’t sound harsh, it was sad, defeated.

“The other song was pretty, what was it?” I commented, “Was it something from Phantom?”

“The theme and then Music of the Night,” He verified, “How long were you spying on me?”

“As long as it took to walk down the hallway, it’s loud and it echoes.” I responded, reaching for my violin and successfully pulling it down. “Do you have the book?”

“Memorized.” He said simply. “They were my solos when I was ten.”

He’s snotty and self absorbed, of course he’d bring in a way to praise his talent somewhere.

“Pretty, and amazing that you know them so well.” I gave a half smile.

“I use them as warm-ups.” He shrugged.

“You got assigned Beethoven?” I asked sympathetically.

“And Mozart.” He nodded.

“We play violin, of course we get Mozart.” I tried to lighten his mood. As much as I dislike him, I hate seeing people sad.

“Yeah.” He snorted, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I was never good at Moonlight Sonata, I always cheated, played the easy version. But, it’s a grade and I have to play her sheet music, and I can’t.”

“Come on, you’re the all-mighty Z, of course you can.” I laughed.

“I can’t.” He said defeated. “Every time, I try to cool off, play something I know, then work back from the beginning, but I can’t get through it.”

“Want me to help?” I asked, setting my stuff down. He didn’t respond. I stood behind him anyways. “Show me what you do.”

He started again, and it went smoothly, until he hit his rough patch in the exact same spot. This time, he tried to work through it and I watched carefully.

“Stop, that’s what it is.” I pointed. “You’re in the wrong position.”

He looked up at me.

“Come on, you’ve been playing longer than me, you know not to hold your hands there when you’ve got to stretch to the seventh!” I placed his hands where they should be and moved them over the keys using my own. “You have to move them there within the first two measures of the second page else it’ll be impossible to keep up the right way.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, wow, I feel stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t even realize what I was doing wrong.” He chuckled nervously. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” I nodded and went to gather my things again from the floor.

“Hey, Sea-sick,” The way he said it made it sound more...playful and friendlier this time, “I’ll help you with your Mozart if you help me with my Beethoven?” He offered. I bit my lip, I hated the idea of being helped by...him.

But, I’d admit, as I was new to violin and Mozart is difficult...I did need the help.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

And I left wondering what had just gone on between us.

But, it wasn’t much of a surprise as the next day, he’d taken to teasing me again. Although, he did keep his bargain of helping me. He just did it rudely.

“Sea-sick, your wrist is collapsing again, you can’t expect to play Mozart if your wrist looks like that.” He groaned and I sighed, trying to fix it.

“No, like this.” He showed me using his own violin. “Now try.”

I tried again, a little more determined.

“You’re really bad at this.” He laughed.

“Ugh, thanks.” I snapped, “Let’s just do your piano lesson, then, make life easier. I can’t stand much more of this anyways.”

“No, you’re going to get this right, God damn it, Sea-sick, don’t walk away from me!” I stormed over to the piano and pointed at it.

“Play.” I said. “I need a break.”

“Fine, God, I’m trying to do a good deed and all I get is a shouting match.”

The fucking nerve of some assholes...