A Little Bit Tougher

Chapter 5: Janie

Mrs. Marks, my homeroom teacher, droned on about a previous assignment that i droned out. I pulled out the schedule the nice lady at the front desk gave me. Fairly regular classes. One free period. I felt eyes on my head but refused to look. I couldn't give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that they bothered me. Be week on the first day, be week for the rest of the year. My brother used to tell me that first impressions where the hardest things to erase. I don't know if i agree, but there is some truth in that. The feeling in the back of my neck, telling me that someone was watching me, disappeared and i breathed again.
The bell rang obnoxiously and i winced slightly as it rang in my head, increasing the headache from lack of sleep. Once outside of the classroom the felling came back. i knew people were staring at me. I spotted Isabella's red head and rushed over to meet her. Cody was standing next to her at her locker. I came up and settled in on her other side. She immediately grabbed the schedule in my hands and scanned my classes. Cody chuckled and grinned at her enthusiasm. I smiled at him slightly.
"We have science and math together which means we have lunch together." She said, processing out loud. It drove me crazy, the way she could solve problems so easily. She was smart but only when she tried. I wasn't very smart if i thought it through to much. i would start second guessing and things like that.
I snatched the paper back and headed to my next class with isabella. She talked about her relationship with Cody. I wasn't one to hold on to a guy. I usually had one to fool around with, but not one to laugh at my crazy antics and such. For that, i envied her. I was happy for her, but envious.
As she blabbered on, I thought about my upcoming appointment with Dr. Rocco. I definetly wasn't thrilled to talk to her. Like at all. She scared the bejeezus out of me. She was always so peppy. Like she could never really stop smiling. And she insisted on calling me Jane. My name is not fucking Jane, it's Janie.WHen we got to the classroom doors, i realised that Iz had stopped talking and was waiting for me to respond to something she had said.
"What, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention" I said. She pursed her lips and squinted her green eyes.
"Are you okay, Janie?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine" I said, trying not to swallow. She knows my body language better than I do. Damnit.
"You. Big. Fat. Liar." Isabella said.
"Fat?!" I said in mock offense.
"Don't change the fucking subject" She said, getting mad. The girl was small but she could look really menacing. Her mother was the same way. Really bird like, but really scary. "Are you still playing?" She asked after a pause.
I avoided her gaze. "Where going to be late for class" I said, trying again, and failing, to change the subject.
"Fine" She said. "But, i want to talk to you at lunch". Now I knew i was in trouble. I just gave her time to think of things to say to me later. Her hair almost smacked me in the face as she whipped her head in the door.
Science was fine. Boring. English was cool. We were reading some old british novel that had something to do with dragons and such. To be honest, i wasn't even paying attention. I felt someone staring again so i was just trying not to scream at someone. I had one chosen elective; music. I got it from my mother. She was a Pianist. She played like nobodies business. And she usually didn't think it was any of it was anyones business. Mom never wanted to be famous. She got offers but she never took them. And when she had Jesse, my brother, she stopped playing for other people. She only played at home. Sometimes i feel selfish for thinking that i preferred it that way. She taught me how to play when my brother chose art art. Eventually, i learned to love it. And then I moved on to string instruments. We would accompany each other sometimes, make a sort of classical music jam session. Those were my favorite afternoons.
The music room was designed right behind the auditorium so that the orchestra could play back there and the sound could be heard from the theater. There were three pianos, two of which were occupied, one by a student, the other by a teacher. Various instruments littered the room. Cello's, Violins, Clarinets, Flute's, and such. All of it quite beautiful, but not all as beautiful as the Parlor Grand Piano that sat by the window, sun bathing. For a moment i just sort-of stopped and stared at it. Then the music teacher came up to me.
"She's pretty, ain't she?" I nodded numbly. "Well, go ahead, show me what you got". I stared at the frazzle haired, wide eyed, lady in front of me.
I walked over to her and set my bag on the floor by one of the legs and sat down, trying to remember one of the pieces me and mom used to love. Miaskovsky. But i needed a cello for that one. Someone practicing in the corner of the room caught my eye instantly. I over the chairs to the sandy haired boy with dark hair.
When I was a few feet away he stopped and looked up at me. I almost tripped over a chair. "Miaskovsky, ummm, sonata for cello and piano. Do you know it?" I asked, brushing some hair out of my face. He nodded slightly and picked his cello up, following me down to the piano. I sat and began, instantly remembering the key's my mother used and the speed and tempo. Then the cello entered and started to fill the spaces in between the notes. The boy played just as well as I would have. As the piece picked up the space, so did the energy in the room. There was suddenly a crowd, but i wasn't focusing on that. My fingers flew across the keys in a way that made my heart swarm. I hadn't played like this since dad was committed. I stopped playing about two minutes in and so did the boy. It was a nine minute long piece and we didn't really need to go all into that.
When i was done, i looked at the boy and he smiled. Like a real big smile. One that crept up to his eyes. Then i looked around the room and realized everyone was staring. Then the teacher, Ms. What's-her-face, clapped her hands together really loudly and told people to keep practicing and people did. The boy picked up his instrument and shuffled back to his corner. I didn't even get a chance to thank him.