Bells Ring

First

It was when I was four, that's when my mother and father saw my potential. It was a normal school day, in the middle of the winter. I rode the bus to my public school, my pink backpack hung from my shoulders. I stepped out from the school bus, my feet crunching on the beautiful snow. I dust off the shavings of the flurry as I approach the large doorway of my preschool. I walk into my classroom, and I spot something. It has black keys. It has white keys. A woman, my teacher, sat on the stool before the large object.

"Can I play?" I squeak, reaching for the chair, barely able to reach. She pushes me back and sets me on a different stool.

"No, Bell. Only the teacher can play," she snapped, returning to playing a familiar holiday tune. I huff, crossing my arms, I stomp to a corner.

This went on for the whole week. A little kid could only take so much. I never complained to her face, but I just wanted to see what it was. It was Friday, and I was in the middle of asking my preschool teacher, again.

"Oh, Bell. You've been such a nuisance all week bugging me about this. But you've been very patient. Here, come sit in my lap," she gave in, pulling me into her lap. My small, fragile fingers eased onto the piano. My fingers were everywhere, I played a theme I heard while shopping with my mother one day.

"Flight of the Bumblebee, Rimsky-Korsakov," my teacher mumbled. She looked at me, her mouth gaped in surprise. I stopped. Other teachers stared in surprise at my prodigious talent.

"What's wrong?" I look at her, she looked like she was about to faint.

"Play- Play Winter Wonderland," she requested breathlessly, shaking her head.

"What's that?" I reply, because I was only four and my knowledge wasn't large. But I remember the complicated piece by that famous composer.

"Oh, it goes a little something like," she plays a little riff of it, nodding her head for me to join in. I listen intently for a little longer and play along with her. I start to sing, companioning to the beautiful music.

"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?" I purr, my voice filling the room. Other people turn their heads around in amazement.

"How?"
"Has she been taking lessons?"
"But her hands are so small."
"Where did she learn this?"
"How'd she even know the words?"
Several people started to cloud the doorway of our learning space. My parents were called up to the school, dismayed by the talent they were confronted with.

I played at concerts. I played at theaters. I played in the mall. I was everywhere. I was on the internet. I was a prodigy. I was the headlines of the big magazines. I was.

I even released an album when I was sixteen of my voice and collaborations with other famous prodigies. It included Christmas and pop culture music.

When I was seven, I was shipped off to a private musical academy. I loved it. It gave me so much room to be myself. At home, I was annoying. My brothers and sisters were always jealous of the attention I got. I haven't seen them since. I haven't seen my whole family since I was seven.

---

"Bell! Focus please. If you really want to get out of here, you at least have to try," Eliza retorts, handing me a achingly long paragraph I have to memorize for the Christmas program.

"Ugh, you know, you would think your parents would be just ecstatic to see their youngest daughter all grown up, right? But no." I frown at the paragraph, flopping onto my bed.