Black Mist: Budding [on hiatus]

6. Things Fall Apart

Rose and Tommy packed away the last of the art supplies the kids had been using that day, and with only a week left in school, she was actually getting excited. She hadn't played much music all semester, but over the vacation, the school would be deserted. She and Tommy would be able to "jam," as he called it, as often as they wanted without interruption. She could play without fear of people watching or listening. And really, she had missed those instruments. Watching the elementary kids play made her long for the touch of the wood against her wrist, the metal strings making dents in her fingers, the ivory keys whispering clacks as they snapped back into place.

"Hey, Cali," Tommy nudged her elbow. He was covering his face with a reindeer mask made by Matty, the little boy who also stayed over vacation. Rose had loved watching Tommy and Matty last year--it showed her a different side of Tommy, and Matty was the sweetest boy.

She rolled her eyes in response, and continued cleaning.

"Come on, Blitzen, don't give poor old Rudolph the cold shoulder like that." He waggled the mask's glittery nose under hers.

"Rudolph was clearly a drunk, that red nose," she thunked its nose. "There's a reason he's being shunned," she murmured.

"Ouch."

"Ms. Regitano," the dean's voice called from behind them. "I need to speak with you."

What now? Rose was sure it was something to do with Grant. Or maybe Porsche?

But she was wrong.

Rose listened reticently as the dean explained that her guardian, Avery, wanted her to come home for Christmas. He was having a gathering at his home, and he wanted her there. Whitley handed Rose the slip containing the message, and Rose nodded blankly, turning back into the arts room.

"Cali? You okay?" Tommy rested his thick, veiny hand on her arm.

She shook her head, a return to silence, and handed him the note.

"Damn."

They lined up the students who went home every night and walked them down to the main hall to meet their parents. After the last kid was gone, Tommy wrapped his arms tight around her, breathing into her neck so that it tickled her hair. "It'll be all right. You'll see." She nodded though she didn't really believe it.

During finals the next week, the kids in seventh period had to display their art or perform their music just as Rose had last year in arts. But, strangely, the entire group grabbed instruments and sat down in the middle of the room. Rose shot Tommy a quizzical look, which he returned with his patented grin.

"Tommy said we might get you to talk if we did this song really well," said Honor, the precocious third grader who excelled in everything she tried in arts.

Rose laughed and shook her head, feeling her face flush red as they began to play bluesy, soulful music. She recognized it, an old song. Maybe Motown.

"These arms of mine," Honor's voice rasped out, the perfect tone and timbre for the song. "...They are lonely, lonely and feeling blue."

Some kids blew on their brass, trumpets and trombones. Tommy air-drummed next to Saul, the chubby kid with glasses who was beating time.

"And if you would let them hold you..."

Tommy sauntered over to Rose and held out his hand to her. She shook her head, laughing, but stood and placed her hand in his. He slid his other hand around her back and pulled her close as they danced around the circle of performing kids. Rose knew her face must have been roughly the color of a pickled beet, but thankfully the song wasn't very long.