I know I literally JUST updated, but the time where my stockpile of chapters completely disappears is fast approaching, so I want to throw another one out here. :) I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's kind of intense.
Don't hate Everett. :P
"Guess who?"
Everett cringed as he heard Lizzie's voice sing-song into the living room. It was stupid, really, the games she played. Guess who? Well, what in the world was she expecting him to say? "Oh, hey, Whoopi Goldberg. Nice to see you again!"?
This had been her routine for the past several days.
Each day, she would come in, cheerfully chat with Everett and then after many failed attempts, she would retreat to his brothers room to collaborate on their project. After they had their time to think and mull and bounce ideas off of each other and came down for a break, she would practically beeline to him. She always brought him a can of soda. He thought it was interesting that she never asked what his favorite was. Usually people who were trying to butter up another asked what their favorites things were. It normally helped a transition. But, as Everett had quickly learned, this girl didn't do things the normal way.
Everett felt her sit down beside him on the bench; he frowned a bit. He thought he had made sure there was little to no room on the bench today. He stacked about a dozen CDs on one side, so he could tell her that he was using them for inspiration; she wouldn't make him move if that was where he wanted them. Although, come to think of it, he probably needed a CD player for that; which he was currently lacking. Yeah, he didn't exactly think that one through.
"So, how many new tunes have you written today? The concert you've been giving us so far is amazing. I was hoping that we could draw some inspiration off of it, but we're still drawing a blank on our project."
Lizzie spoke to him casually, sipping her soda as she kept her position. Everett was still unsure how he felt about the close proximity and her obvious determination to be close to him.
On one hand, it was slightly amusing. Lizzie acted as if she had known him their whole lives; she talked to him normally, without any pretense. She acknowledged he couldn't see, but she was constantly telling him it could be worse. It was different that what he was used to.
Normally, everyone tip-toed around him. "Don't say this around Everett." or "Be careful with what you speak about around Everett.".
They wanted to spare him, as if he wasn't already painfully aware that he couldn't see, people acted as if ignoring the problem would make it all better. Lizzie wasn't like that. As perfectly illustrated by the topic she had just brought up, nothing was off limits in their communication, as one sided as it was.
Now, it also irked him that she was around all the time. It still grated on his nerves the fact that she was an artist; prancing around with her paint and crayons and pencils and ... paint. She had no hope of ever befriending him or truly ever getting close to him. He would make certain of that.
"Wow, have I ever told you how fascinating your life is?" he asked sarcastically. He ignored the overwhelming to play another tune that was begging for release in the back of his mind, instead switching to a classic.
"Gymnopedie. Sweet."
Everett stopped, certain that he didn't hear that right. Did she actually know what song that was? He could practically hear the crap eating grin on her face when he failed to reply right away and instead seemed to just open and close his mouth repeatedly.
"Go on. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that you aren't spurting off one of the greatest composers in history like it's something you came up with in the shower."
Everett opened his mouth and she quickly cut him off.
"Tell me truthfully that I'm wrong," she clarified, her voice sounding slightly smug.
Everett wanted to; he really did. But he, in fact, had no reply to her. The very, very small file in the back of his mind marked 'Lizzie' opened up for a moment and he sifted through what he knew about so far.
Lizzie was a bit of an enigma to him.
She was rather strange; Lizzie loved art and she clearly had a knack for it, if Jesse's comments to their mother were true. But she only dabbled in it.
Rock and roll seemed to be her anthem (her cell phone ring tone was Three Days Grace), yet she knew classical music by title and composer. A bit of curiosity rang through Everett.
Which persona represented the real Lizzie?
Clearly, Lizzie could only stand silence for so long, considering that she jumped back into some sort of conversation after Everett remained quiet for a few moments.
"So you're into classical, right?" she pried.
"Sometimes," he dead panned.
He could practically feel her determination waning as she fell silent. His constant fighting against her efforts to befriend him really started to wear her down; he could just tell. Almost immediately, the need to lay off and not be so harsh on the girl next to him hit Everett in the chest and he thought a bit more carefully about the course he was pursuing.
For once, he didn't have to fight to get someone to be his friend. Why would he shove her away? Why couldn't he just let this person have a normal conversation with him?
But his stubborn side kicked in before his more reasonable half had the chance to open it's big fat mouth. There was no reason for them to be companions. It didn't make sense and simply had no logic. They had nothing in common. Maybe they knew the same composers, but that most certainly didn't sign the best friends contract.
Everett reinforced the brick wall around him with these thoughts, trying to ensure the safety of his isolation.
"Well, then, what kind of music do you like?" she tried again, scooting closer to him, making Everett squirm uncomfortably.
Everett knew she was determined. But why? It bugged him – why was she so dedicated to making him smile? Why did she want to get to know him? He was nothing special. So he could play piano, big whoop, right? It just didn't make too much sense to him.
Everett immediately scooted farther away before huffing out a large breath of air. "Why are you sitting here?" he groaned in frustration, completely ignoring her question. Would she ever leave him alone or was he destined to sit through her constant questions?
"Because I want to know what kind of music you like. Now spill," she insisted.
Lizzie just had to be stubborn. Why did she have to be so insanely stubborn? Sometimes, he just wanted to strangle her.
Despite the situation, Everett mentally let out a humorless laugh, rubbing his face harshly with the palms of his hands. He was talking as if they had known each other for forever. He acted like he had known her for months rather than days. It was a weird feeling; he hadn't met someone that made him feel so ... he couldn't put a proper word on it. He would just go with annoyed for the time being since that feeling was the predominant one.
Letting out a sigh, he tried a different route. "If I tell you, will you go away?"
She clearly wouldn't leave without some sort of an answer, so he might as well provide her with one, right?
"Probably not."
"Then what's the point?"
"It's called being social. I thought we could give it a whirl. Besides, I just love our little heart to hearts," she joked, leaning her elbow on his shoulder.
Everett slightly tensed underneath her touch and although she moved a little, her hand still laid on the tip of his shoulder.
"Why do you hate me so much?" she finally asked, taking her hand away from him completely. "I didn't do anything to you. In fact, I've been nothing but friendly. But you treat me like an enemy."
She sounded a little hurt and it made Everett take a step back and think. Did he really hate her? Or was he just annoyed by her? True, he was a little bitter towards her for obvious reasons, but did it go deeper than that?
No, it couldn't. To hate somebody, you had to know a thing or two about that person. Everett barely knew anything about the girl.
But still, he didn't want her to believe there was any hope of them being friends. Getting close to people just didn't seem to be in his best interests.
She would eventually get bored of him.
They couldn't do a whole lot together as friends and he didn't want them to get close, only to be disappointed when she finally ditched him.
"I don't take kindly to artists, that's why," he finally snapped, stopping his actions to face her. He couldn't take it anymore. If she was so dead set to know what his problem with her was, then she was going to hear it point blank.
He heard her scoff, nothing bothering to hide the sound. "How can you say you hate artists when you're one yourself?" she accused, her voice raising an octave.
"I am not an artist!" he nearly shouted, completely irritated now. He was not artist and he would not let her run her mouth like she knew what she was talking about.
Pushing his body towards her end of the bench, Everett tried to budge her off. Maybe sending her landing flat on her hind quarters would do her good. Maybe she would just go away and stop talking to him like she understood.
But, instead of sliding down off the seat like he imagined, Lizzie dug her heels into the carpet underneath them and pushed back. The surprise made Everett falter a bit, sending him scooting two inches. He didn't exactly have her pegged for aggressive.
With a disgruntled animal-like noise, Everett let off his pushing, his hands going back to the piano as she began talking again.
"Of course you are! Haven't you heard - - Oh, for the love of all things good and pure, will you stop that?"
Everett's mouth fell open like that of a dead fish as she grabbed his hands and pushed them into his lap, preventing him from even touching the keys that he tried to use to drown out her voice.
"You aren't a kid anymore, Everett. You can't just hide behind the music when someone says something you don't want to hear," she scolded him, her hands keeping his in place.
Everett just sneered at her and tried to yank his hands away, but the girl had a killer grip on him. She really must have wanted him to just listen.
"Everett, you are an artist. Music? That's an art. Just listen what you can do! You play masterpieces, compose your own music. Me? I can see the stupid keys and still have problems playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I can see sheet music; I can watch tutorials on the Internet, but I will never, in a million years, be able to play half as well as you because I just don't have the talent."
By this point, Everett stopped struggling to get his hands free. He could only sit and listen; he had never heard someone talk to him like this before. She was open and honest with him. She didn't soften the blow and she didn't pretend that it was okay for him to act in such a way just to spare him his feelings. It sent a strange feeling coursing through his entire body. In fact, in a way, he liked it.
"Everett, you play from your heart. You don't need the sheet music or the squiggly lines telling you what notes to hit. All you need is emotion. You sit down here and you let us all hear what you're feeling inside and that's what makes your music perfect and beautiful."
Everett felt all the blood drain from his face and suddenly felt stripped of all his barriers at the sentence, feeling vulnerable for the first time in years. She understood? How? His family couldn't even catch on to his music, listening to the troubles and heartfelt poems that he poured into the melody.
How was she able to after only several days?
Turning his head away from her, Everett's breath came out shaky as he turned his back to her as best as he could. This was too much. It was just too much. She shouldn't be there. This just couldn't happen. She needed to leave.
Everett wanted her to go and just butt out of his life. Maybe even say something hurtful to him and force him to turn back to his concrete ways. He wanted her to make him run back into his fortress and reinforce his walls.
But she didn't.
The more she spoke, the more he heard her concern, understanding and kindness.
He hated it because, in reality, he wanted to hate her and she seemed bent on making that difficult for him.
"I suppose that's why all your songs sound a bit melancholy and sad. It sounds like you're mourning; as if someone you love just died."
He could hear the small smile in her voice and she lifted his hands back to the piano, a silent signal that she was nearing the end of her speech. For whatever reason, he didn't exactly want her to stop talking. He didn't want her to stay, but ... he didn't know if he wanted her to go, either.
That same conflicted feeling from earlier returned, making him frown.
"The time for mourning is over, Everett. It's time to come back to the real world and learn to live again."
He felt her presence leave the room and suddenly, the space around him felt empty; the air felt colder and it was too quiet for even him. Swallowing the urge to follow her and apologize for his words and actions, Everett forced himself to sit at the piano, forced his fingers to glide along the keys.
But the music that he played was only halfhearted; his movements felt jerky and he clenched his jaw.
He would not let this one little glitch ruin his music; he would force himself to play and he would force it to sound good.
Everett let the music die down for a second as Lizzie's footsteps went upstairs and thumped around; a muted conversation followed. Before long, she returned to the bottom step and her feet trailed through the kitchen, making Everett turn in that direction.
The small click of the back door as Lizzie left was the loudest sound he ever heard.
He shouldn't have been so hard on her. But she wouldn't have given up any other way. And that was what he wanted.
There was no need for Everett to feel anything but a pleasant feeling with her absence.
But he didn't; instead, he felt worse than ever.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Everett sat on the edge of his bed, stewing. He had been for the past two hours. After the shock and vulnerability of the one sided conversation with Lizzie wore off, he just wanted to be angry and furious.
It ate away at him, gnawing him from the inside out. The only sentence that had been churning in the back of his mind since that afternoon stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the music in his mind and the million other thoughts that he had busting about in his mind. It was simple; a very pointed and easy solution to his own perceived problems.
That girl had to go.
Ever since she showed up several days ago, she had called into question everything he knew and held dear; his viewpoints, his routine, his attitude towards himself and the world. How could she do that? How was she able to make him rethink everything? It wasn't good; it didn't make any sense at all. This just couldn't possibly happen.
Her words earlier had impacted him more than he wanted to let on. When she realized that his music was literally expressing himself, the way he played and the melodies, it struck him to the core.
It felt as if she had put him under a microscope, his flaws magnified. It scared him in a way that he hadn't expected. The fact that she discovered what his family couldn't startled him.
Then again, was it possible that they had noticed, yet never mentioned it to him? Maybe they were trying to protect the one shield he had by avoiding the subject altogether.
But the thing was, even though she was now in uncharted territory, he didn't feel like his shield was broken. It still felt strong. Lizzie had just found a way past it. She found the one small hole and slid right in. But what did that mean?
Groaning loudly, Everett flopped backwards on his bed, letting his legs dangle off and covering his eyes with his forearms. Why did things have to be so difficult? Would anything ever make sense to him? He just wanted to have things go smoothly and the right way for once in his life.
But still, the biggest question of them all begged an answer: could Lizzie be the one thing that would go right?
Everett quickly shook that last thought from his mind, standing up as fast as he could, so fast that he felt dizzy for several moments. There was no way she could be a good anything. That was not even an option.
Lizzie was an annoyance. Friendship had no place on the table. In fact, Everett wanted to sweep that option under the rug and completely forget about it.
He needed to talk to Jesse and he needed to talk to him now.
Everett exited his room and took strong, determined steps towards the kitchen. Once he felt tile beneath his feet, he slowed down and laid the palm of his left hand on the wall. He never went upstairs, so he had to do this with no help. He had no floor plan or specifics on how to traverse the second story of his home.
Just a vague memory from his childhood.
Unable to stop now, Everett swallowed the hesitation that lumped in the back of his throat and reached out for a railing. His right hand stumbled on one and he sighed a breath of relief. That's the first step. He stuck his left foot out, wiggling his foot around for a few seconds for the bottom step and feeling like a total dork doing so.
He hated stairs.
His toes finally touched the first stair and he began the climb. He could have done it faster after the first three steps, but he didn't want to hit the top too fast and face plant into the floor.
After what felt like an eternity in Everett's mind, he walked down the upstairs hall. Jesse's room would be whichever one had Owl City playing on low volume.
It makes perfect concentration music, Jesse always said, because the creative sound turns his mental gears.
Everett personally did not find much pleasure in overly electronic music. But his ears weren't the ones getting abused, so what did it matter?
Finally, he heard soft electronic tones from behind one of the doors and promptly pounded his fist against the wood, summoning his brother.
There was a loud thump, scurrying and then, the door opened. "Everett?"
He couldn't say for sure, but Everett was certain that he just interrupted his brothers snack time. The scent of pepperoni and cheese from leftover pizza oozed out of his doorway.
"How did you get up here?" Jesse wondered out loud, genuinely curious.
Everett let a low growl escape, as it did whenever his abilities were undermined and felt his way past Jesse, ignoring the question.
"We need to talk," he said, getting straight to the point.
Everett stood in the middle of Jesse's room, trying to figure out where a chair was. The layout had no identifying marks, unlike the rest of the house, where he could feel furniture along the way. It felt like Jesse had all his belongings pushed up against the wall.
"To your left. There's a bean bag chair on the floor," Jesse told him, closing the door.
Everett shuffled his feet to the left, waiting for his foot to bump into something; he finally hit the beanbag and sighed, collapsing on the soft furniture. Grimacing, Everett tried to get comfortable. Being so close to the floor felt extremely weird to him.
"So what did you want to talk about? Must be pretty important for you to come all the way up here," Jesse started.
Everett heard his bed squeak, telling that he was officially settled and ready to hear him out.
Taking a deep breath, Everett tried to think of a way to say this without sounding like he actually cared. Then again, if he didn't cared, he would have come upstairs to talk to Jesse.
It was a bit of a dead giveaway of the urgency, as Jesse so kindly pointed out earlier.
"You need to trade Lizzie for another partner," he finally stated, crossing his arms. Apparently, blunt was the way to go. "She's nothing but a load of trouble. Get rid of her."
Jesse scoffed, a little too loudly for the situation. "Why would I do that? I like Lizzie. She's fun. She's creative. And she puts you in your place. That's enough entertainment to last a lifetime," he chuckled.
The smirk in Jesse's voice was clear as the wind chimes on the front porch. Everett could practically feel his blood boiling.
"C'mon, Everett. You know she isn't so bad. The only reason you don't like her is she doesn't act like she's walking on eggshells around you."
Everett fumed; he was sure there was a wild look in his eyes right now. Maybe he couldn't see it, but he knew for a fact that his brother could.
"Jesse – it has nothing to do with that. I just get the feeling that she is bad news. She walks in here and just acts like she owns the place. And she's just so rude."
His arms were flailing by this point; he needed to make his brother see reason. He would use any low blow he could if he had to and raked his brain for something, anything. His mental hands were just grasping at straws now.
"She pretty much insulted me today," Everett sputtered out before he could stop himself.
Even though he was older, Everett knew that Jesse was a little protective because of his condition.
And his one little sentence got the desired result.
Jesse was by his side in a flash, his hand on Everett's shoulder. He could tell that Jesse had knelt down next to him and could feel his gaze burning into the side of his head. Swallowing the guilt that had been puddling in the back of his mind for his deceit, Everett continued, "Yeah, she ... ridiculed my music for one. And she snootily mentioned I was blind several times, all rude like. I mean, just ... bad, Lizzie."
He knew he was not just stretching the truth at this point. Now, it had crossed over into fabrication. If Jesse found out what was going on here, Everett would be way in over his head. Again, while Everett became the older of the two by birth, Jesse was born with the mindset of an older brother.
"What? That's just ... ugh!"
Everett heard his brother leap to his feet and pace slightly.
"How could she do that? I seriously thought she was above treating you without respect!" Jesse growled his anger and put a hand on his brothers shoulder. "I'll take care of it, Everett. I'm sorry that she treated you that way and I assure you, it will never happen again."
With that, he helped Everett back downstairs and settled him down at his piano. As Jesse's steps stomped off into the distance and his bedroom door slammed close, Everett felt worse and worse about what he had done.
Instead of feeling relieved and happy, dread pooled in his stomach.
How could he be so stupid? Groaning, Everett shook his head. He really should have thought through the plan before blurting out a bunch of lies.
When Jesse called her up and started in, Lizzie would explain her side of the story. And her side of the story would sound much more legit than his side. Maybe because it actually was legit. Jesse would be furious.
Did he really hate her that much that he was willing to lie to get her away?
Lying to his family. It was a new low for him. He couldn't even find the will power to play now. He listened to Jesse's pacing footsteps upstairs. He couldn't hear his voice except for the slightly muffled shouts. His brother was beyond upset. If he kept good on his word, Lizzie would get getting an earful right now.
Not more than twenty minutes later, Jesse's bedroom door once again slammed and his name was being yelled through the house. Everett winced, knowing that now, he would be getting the earful.
"Everett! What is the matter with you?" he shouted as he rounded the corner of the living room, stopping right behind Everett.
"Seriously? You would go through all this kind of trouble because you don't like someone? Someone that I happen to find to be a great person and friend? How selfish are you?" Jesse accused, frustration seeped from every pore in his body.
He was angry. Oh, wait, no. Angry would be putting it lightly. For the first time ever, Jesse was absolutely livid.
"Lizzie is my friend. I'm not going to let you take that away from me. She is welcome here anytime she wants! And you don't have a say in it, do you understand? I give up a lot to make sure you are happy and that no one treats you badly. I stay at home to help and barely even have people over to the house unless they've been life long friends.
But this ... the lying to shove people away from you, and by extension me, ends now. I never want to hear another negative thing about Lizzie come out of your mouth again."
With that, the room was freed of Jesse's wrath as he opened the back door and left the house completely.
Everett twitched, his conscience pricking at him, and with a sigh he leaned forward and shook his head.
"What have I done?"
WHOA ... tensions are rising in the North household.
So, guys, tell me what's going on in your head about this!
Did Lizzie step out of line or were her words justified? Does Everett need a reality check? And is Jesse justified in his anger?
I hope the story doesn't seem slow to you guys. With something like this, it does take time for Everett to sort out his mind and feelings and get to the root of his emotions. :)
He can't be "I HATE THE WORLD!" in one chapter and suddenly, after one conversation with Lizzie, be like, "OMG you're so right! The world is wonderfula nd beautiful and OMG I can't believe I've been angry for so long. *proceeds to throw on a flower crown and skip about*"
These things take time lol
COMMENT. VOTE. FAN. ADD TO YOUR READING LISTS!
Love you guys!
xx