Chapter Six
•Sang•
It's here, the first day of school has finally come around after a week of doing nothing all that interesting. I barely left the house and when I did leave it was to go and take some photos to add to my collections.
Another reason I've barely left the house is because I've found myself sitting on my bed with legs crossed staring at the hard black case that contains my violin. Before I had left his office on registration, Mr Blackbourne had asked if I had a violin. I gave a simple nod of my head. He then asked me to bring it with me on the first day.
So I dug it out two days later and I've lost count how many times I've gone to open it but couldn't bring myself to do so. Really, I needed to. Mr Blackbourne will ask questions I'm not sure I'm ready to answer if I can't bring myself to open it.
Now here I am, the first day of school and I'm pacing my room, my eyes locking onto the case for several seconds before I look away and continue pacing.
I'm dressed and ready for the day early; my nerves and the excitement of doing something new yet familiar has kept me up at night. I've also found myself staring at a certain folder of pictures I have on my laptop; that I may have printed out and used to start a whole new scrapbook focused solely on them.
It hasn't gone past me that I've seen them at the house across the street, or making their way to a house a few doors down from mine on the same side of the street to me. I also didn't sneakily follow two of the boys down the street where they stopped at the church and waited for the rest of their friends that are in the group.
What surprised me was Dr Green and Mr Blackbourne showing up. When I had first seen Dr Green I knew he couldn't have been much older then me, and I thought the same thing when I had met Mr Blackbourne a few minutes later. Even though he's so formal and serious, it doesn't hide the fact that he is still young.
I had been standing at my bedroom window when I saw the boys walking by; one was wearing a black vest with a red Nike swish on it and the other had been wearing a light green polo top. Before I had even realized what I was doing I was grabbing my camera and flying out the door and on their heels.
And like the stalker I felt I was when it came to the them, I stayed hidden and snapped many photos as Boy One and Boy Two talked while the others listened. Together as a group they had captured my attention and when I went through the photos I had snapped of them from registration and that day, I knew they had captured my attention individually.
My palms were sweaty and my heart was pounding as I flicked through each photo; three earrings in the same ear with the same colored studs, copper hair, black framed glasses framing brilliant green eyes, a Japanese medallion and fire eyes; the first time I ever understood the term of 'fire in the eyes'.
I don't know how long I had sat at my desk and just looked at those pictures along with the ones I got at registration.
I stop pacing and ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face. I need to forget my fascination with those boys, including Dr Green and Mr Blackbourne. Instead I need to concentrate on that damn violin case.
Maybe I'm making a mistake by doing this class. Maybe I could go and see Mr Blackbourne later and try to explain why I can't do it, that it hurts to much, that I haven't played on it since Mom took her last breath.
A knock at my bedroom door startles me and I whirl around just as it opens and Dad steps into my room. He came back a day earlier then what he said in his text and has hidden himself in his room since, leaving only for a few hours to go to the office before returning. Yesterday evening he had even cooked tea, something he hasn't done in years.
"Are you ready for your first day?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against my door frame. I nod my head. His eyes flick around my room finally settling on the violin case. "You've got it out." He whispers, his eyes flashing to mine.
I nod my head, going to my desk and picking up my schedule. I hand it to him before quickly scribbling on another piece of paper. I hand it to him. "I got asked if I would be interested and for some stupid reason I said yes."
He reads my words and look back up at me before looking to the case. An emotion I can't place swirls in the brown depths. He swallows and looks back to me. "I'll give you a ride to school if you want."
I tilt my head to the side and frown at him. Where is this coming from? I can only nod my head as I scoop up my bag and pick up my fake glasses. Dad hasn't ever questioned the glasses and I'm thankful for that. I don't think I'd be able to explain why I wanted to wear them if he had asked.
He steps out of the way so I can go by him and I go down the stairs. I go into the front room to get my phone that I had left on the coffee table the night before and I pause, my hand just hanging in the air as I slowly turn my head and look at the photo that stands on what was the bare book case.
My bag slips from my shoulder and to the floor as I straighten up and slowly make my way towards it. My breathing starts to pick up as my eyes take in every detail of the image; a women with blonde hair, a little girl in her lap as a man stands behind them with his arms wrapped around the women and the girl as if they are his whole world. They're smiling, happy, laughing, being loved and giving love.
What does this mean? Why has he got it out?
"I got an email the day you registered with a copy of your schedule. I had to sign it so I knew the same day you had accepted the violin lessons, Sang." At Dad's voice I turn around and face him. "I watched you put away that instrument and it broke my heart that a little girl was hurting in such a way, a way a child shouldn't ever hurt. I decided that if you were trying to make an effort, then I would to."
Tears sting my eyes and I blink repeatedly. The last time I cried was the week before Mom died. I had fallen over and grazed my knee. I remember the sting of pain and my knee tingles. I never let the tears fall when Mom died; I dealt with the grief in a way no child should have needed to.
I don't speak, I don't draw, I don't playfully sing along to music like I used to. I don't play the violin and I don't play the piano. My hair hides my face, as do the glasses I don't even need. I hate attention and I keep myself as hidden as I possibly can. I baked cookies just because I could.
Sometimes I long to be that girl, the girl I was once was but I can't be her again. A huge part of me is missing, gone and will never return.
I reach for one of the notebooks that I always keep laying around, ready to be used. I start writing on it but Dad's voice has me snapping my head up to him. "I thought I was getting my little girl back when I read that email. I guess I was wrong."
Then he storms towards the front door. I stand there for all of ten seconds before I'm following him. I reach the porch just as Dad's car peels out the driveway and I can only watch as he drives off.
He was making an effort and I did nothing. Now I understand why he's been hanging around over the last few days.
When Mom died, he didn't just lose her but he lost me also. But I can say the same; Dad may not realize it, but I lost both of my parents that day.
When will this grief finally pass?
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I make my way to school, lost in thought with things to do with Dad. I find myself asking myself questions, questions only he can answer and I make a mental note to one day ask him. I want to know what he's done over the years when he's neglected me and left me to fend for myself. I want to ask at what point he realized I was too far gone. I want to know if we'll ever find any kind of happiness ever again.
I make my way through the lunch hall and out into the courtyard. It's a beautiful morning and I don't want to be cramped inside if I can help it. Sitting down on a bench out of the way, I bring a leg up and wrap my arm around it, my eyes moving over the courtyard.
A girl is clicking fingers in front of her friends face and the boy I remember from registration, the one that proposed, is standing on top of a table doing a silly dance, his friends laughing at his antics. A boy on the bench not to far from me has his head in a book. Normally, that me but today, I want to watch. Observe.
My eyes move to the table and bench in the corner right opposite me and I startle when I realize that six sets of eyes are locked onto me. My eyes narrow and I tilt my head to the side, immediately feeling a sense of discomfort; not because they make me uncomfortable but because I've been noticed.
By them off all people.
I push my glasses up my nose and look away, my hand finding my bag to remove my camera as I try and think of which boy it is that wasn't in the group with them. I turn my camera on and rest the base of it on my knee, looking at the tiny screen as I move it around. It lands on the boy that popped the question and I snap a picture just as he jumps from the table, catching him in mid air with a grin on his boyish face.
I move back to the two girls. The one that had been snapping her fingers in now not but her attention is focused on something else. I don't even need to look in the direction she's looking in to see what has caught her attention. I snap a picture as I wonder what sort of Photoshopping I could do to it as waves of jealousy travel through my veins. It's so thick and quick, I don't expect it and the feeling as he standing from my seat and picking up my bag.
Why am I jealous? I don't get jealous. Never have done and I'm not starting today.
Pulling open the doors to the cafeteria, I go to step inside but in fact I make contact with a hard body, almost crashing to the floor. I immediately feel the blush creep up my neck because it's my own fault; it may have looked like I was looking where I was going but I was distracted and ended up bumping into a hard male chest.
An arm snakes around my waist to steady me and stopping my fall and my hands fly up and rest over a dark blue t-shirt. My fingers twitch when I feel the hardness under the palms off my hands.
"Whoa, are you okay? I'm sorry."
Why is he apologizing? It's my fault. I was looking where I was going. My eyes move up from his chest, up his neck and pass his chin and lips that are full and thick, over a straight nose until I'm meeting a pair of deep brown eyes. Pictures didn't do him justice, he's handsome.
My mouth opens and closes, my eyes moving over his face, my heart stuttering when I realize I know who he is. I don't know his name, but I know he's in that group.
His arm tightens around my waist, and I realize how close we are. My fingers flex over his chest and I push, telling him silently to let go of me. His arm drops from around me and I step back, pushing my glasses up my nose.
My eyes move over towards his friends and I find them already watching us. Two of them are standing from their seats; the one with two blonde locks and boy two from the day of registration.
My eyes move back towards the boy I bumped into. I then notice how tall he is standing near my small frame. His lips curve up into a smile as he hikes his bag up onto his shoulder. "You didn't answer my question, Aggele Mou."