Musically Gifted? Well, I Used to Play the Recorder...

Fourteen: A Guitar Has Strings, Right?

            Valid point.

            I am about to respond with a witty comeback (that hasn’t yet sprung to mind), but am cut off by the sound of the door opening rather abruptly.

            “Hello!”

            Oh, great.

            “Hi, Cindy.” Is it really obvious that I’m gritting my teeth to prevent the sarcastic tone of voice that is just aching to escape my lips? I really hope not.

            “How’s it going in here?” she asks brightly, breezing inside without so much of an apology for the interruption. That bitch. I could’ve been in the middle of conducting the next piece equivalent to Mozart, and yet she just casually strides in as if we’re sitting around doing nothing.

            Well, we are, but I’d never admit that to her.

            “It’s going fine!” I answer her. The grin on my face is so wide it actually kind of hurts. “We’ve got so many good ideas, it’s just hard to put them into one piece, you know what I mean?”

            Cindy smiles back at me, nodding her head sympathetically. I take the opportunity to give her the once-over, mentally noting her appearance so I can find things to moan about to Savannah later. However, I am disappointed to find that she is only wearing a white printed tee and denim shorts. A couple of cheap looking (and when I say cheap looking, I mean incredibly expensive looking, but let’s not give her the satisfaction) bangles hang on her left arm and a dainty gold chain sits neatly around her neck. “Oh my God, I know,” she says. “The girls are just so great! It’s so hard putting something together that shows off all of their talents at the same time. Melody Cabin has a reputation to keep up, you know.”

            “Oh yes.” The nodding of my head increases vigorously. There is no way in a zillion years that I will ever admit to Cindy that I actually have no clue what I’m doing. I’ll pretend my musical knowledge is on par with Mozart if I have to. “So…” I gesture around the room, as politely as I can manage. “Did you want something, or…?”

            “Oh, yes!” Cindy laughs wildly, as if I have just told an extremely funny joke. I have to make a conscious effort to stop myself from looking at her strangely. “Sorry, I almost forgot! Ha! No, I just wanted to borrow a music stand.”

            “Uh... sure thing. Help yourself.”

            “Thanks, Bailey!” Another sugar coated smile is flashed in my direction as she grabs one from the side of the room. “That’s just great.”

            “It’s fine.” I wonder if my tone screams please leave this room right now. I hope it does.

            “So are you going to give me a little performance?” she asks, gesturing towards the group of boys all slumped unenthusiastically on chairs in various places. God, would it kill them to look a little more like musical geniuses? Some people are so inconsiderate.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You know,” Cindy says, with another laugh. Oh my God, how does she keep up this super sweet act? It’s killing me after barely two minutes. It wouldn’t surprise me if the corners of her lips are now permanently etched into a smile that refuses to leave her face. At least it’d save her the effort of actually moving her muscles. “What you’ve done so far. I’d love to see how it’s going.”