The Broken Stallion

Sticky Notes

"Speaking without permission. Mr. Chirpy-face can LEAVE NOW," He stared insistently at Arthur. With reluctance, Arthur left and sort of slammed the door.

Let me put this plainly, the lesson did not go well. Anderson was one of the most uptight, scrutinizing, and probably the worst teacher I've ever had. Every note I played he hissed and said I played with the most atrocious manner. He would repeat what I played exaggerating my mistakes. He criticized everything I did. He wanted nothing but to see me cry. He whispered how terrible I was in my ear. He wanted me to break. He wanted to see me break down. But I didn't. His eyes narrowed as I kept a calm composure and didn't even blink as he spat in my face. He was the bully and I the victim. I don't know what was wrong with him. I didn't understand where this hatred came from. Where was his motive? I didn't understand.

At the end he said, "Good lesson, see you later," He said drily. I didn't respond and didn't meet his eyes. I felt as if I was burning with scars from all his critical, harsh remarks. He left me breathless as I left the room. He didn't help me out the door. As I struggled to leave, I'm pretty sure I saw him sneer. I wheeled away. It was even harder to pull myself with the weight of the worst lesson ever laid on my back. Anderson pulled open the door and without a word dropped all my music books I'd forgotten to get on the ground and slammed it. I couldn't bend down to get it but I didn't have to.

Arthur saw all that happened. He was standing behind a pillar and silently put all my books into my bag. I wanted to tell him about what happened but he seemed to already understand.

"Arragont sod, that bloke," he said mildly. I would say much worse but I nodded. With a much different feeling from the morning we treaded slowly to the basement. I hung my head and Arthur followed suit. He seemed to be at a loss for words. When he wheeled me into the grand piano practice room I was surprised again to see the room filled with stickynotes. On the piano bench was Phillip. He was grinning like a maniac.

He squeaked when he saw me and shoved a pen in my hand. I stared at the walls covered in colorful stickynotes as well as the piano keys and some on the ceiling. Phillip twitched with excitement. All the stickynotes had a question on them. It was like a conversation laid out for me to answer.

Arthur clapped his hands, "Wow, this is a fine surprise. I'll leave you two find lads to whatever this is," I didn't notice him leave as I stared at a pink stickynote which asked, "Do you like math?"

I answered "Hate it," Phillip frowned and slapped my hand. I turned to him and he took up the pen and wrote, "How can you???" He preceded to write 4 frowny faces. I smiled but I wondered how he could like math. That seemed rare.

"I love it," he wrote carefully. I shrugged I could tell he would say more but he probably couldn't write his love for numbers on a single sticky note. I moved on to another one, and another one. Until the floor was littered with sticky notes, peppered in responses, smiley faces, and questions. The wall became increasingly bare as time passed. Who knows how long I was there. Probably hours. I didn't touch a single key.

Some of the questions were random like, "Do you like tacos?" Others were reasonable like "Where were you from?" While some were just downright nosy: "Do you have a girlfriend?"

I laughed when I saw it and he made a strange face at me. He probably wondered what a laugh sounded like. I wrote back,"Do you?"

He wrote, "Sort of," I wondered what in the world that meant. When I tried to ask what she looked like. He just wrote she was pretty. I knew that he could be more descriptive but I didn't push it. The day went on and I talked more to Phillip than I did to some people in a whole year. It was actually easier for me to write my response than speak. It gave me time to think and Phillip would wait patiently. Although his knee would tell he was impatient. It would constantly be swinging or his hand would be thrumming nervously as I wrote slowly. When I came to the last stickynote, Arthur burst in.

"Mate, it's like 1 PM," He said. The piano lesson ended at 8:30 AM. It took me a while how long I was sitting in this room. Phillip stared blankly at Arthur and I realized he didn't hear. He was impatiently tapping my shoulder to respond about a question about what my favorite cereal was. I wrote Cheerios and wheeled out of the room with Phillip in tow.

"Lunch?" Arthur asked cheerfully.

"Starving," We decided to bring Phillip along.

Hi this is Waverly... uhm... So basically Anderson is like Severus Snape but without the whole Lily affair. I actually thought of making him have a motive for hating Julian so much but it got too confusing. I don't think anyone would love Anderson. Eew. This chapter was really boring, I know. But it mostly was character development for Julian as he learns friendship and stuff from both Arthur and Phillip. I don't know if Arthur will appear in any other of my chapters. He may just be a one-shot character unless people really love him. Maybe I'll give him a girlfriend and maybe add that he is archenemies with Anderson. So many possibilities!