Room 8

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"Come on Percy, focus!" yelled Emily,  as she hit her pointer stick on the side of the piano. Sweat trickled down my forehead, as my fingers harshly pressed on the keys. I had practiced the song so many times, my fingers ached.

I winced as the music echoed through the Music room. I had heard this song so many times I knew it by heart, I know how it's supposed to sound. And this isn't it.

The music was harsh and angry. I played every note perfectly, flawlessly even, but it was robotic and emotionless.

I finished the last note, and wiped the sweat off of my forehead.

"Good Percy, that was perfect. Just like a composer. Take a break"

I left the room, and let the silence follow behind me. I always practiced piano with Emily during free period. She was strict and always by the book. Emily made me practice night and day, especially when competitions were coming up.

The music room was located on the second floor of my high school. It was empty except for an upright piano and a few bookshelves filled with sheet music.

Everyone was outside watching the softball practice, and I could here the cheering from the second level. The halls were completely empty and silent. I could here my footsteps clicking on the tile.

I originally started playing the piano for fun when I was little, but when my mom grew sick it became a way to fill my time.

My mom always wanted to play the piano competitively, but since she got  ill, she never got to peruse her dream. I keep telling myself that if I win the competitions, and practice hard enough, mom will get better. She'd been in the hospital for 5 months now, and it had been a long time since we had received any good news about her health.

I thought about how my music sounds. Harsh, emotionless, cold, and distant. Unfortunately, it's all too familiar. I've been playing that since as long as I can remember. It's why I win most of my competitions. It's what the judges look for. Perfection, no mistakes.


I stared at the hallway floor. The silence surrounding me, practically suffocating anything in its wake. The only noise was the skid of my sneakers hitting tile. I blew a piece of hair out of my face.

A teacher passed by and smiled at me. I gave an awkward wave, and stumbled over my untied shoelace.

A girl was following behind the teacher, holding a guitar case. Her curly blonde hair was covering her face, but I could tell she was smiling.

Percabeth OneshotsWhere stories live. Discover now