Heartstrings

Chapter 1: Video Games

Emma's Perspective

I drew in a deep breath as my right hand wove my bow across the strings of my cello - little dusty clouds of rosin formed in the hazy, golden light of my room. I was reaching the peak of the song – and my heart sped up as the notes built towards the climax. My left hand shook with vibrato and I closed my eyes, extending the apex note as if I were standing on the precipice of a mountain, taking in a glorious view.

For just a moment, my head was clear, and my heart sighed with satisfaction. I began the wind down of the song and let out a long breath as I held the last note of my favorite Saint-Saëns piece.

It was a simple song, but that just made it more beautiful to me. I felt slightly more relaxed, and a soft, but proud smile spread across my face.

- EMMA!

My mom yelled at me from downstairs, interrupting my brief moment of piece. I rolled my eyes as I got up from my chair and set my cello down.

- Yes?!

- Get down here and help me tidy this house up before your brother and Jake get home from practice!

I sighed - she did this every day. My mother was impossibly anal about keeping the house clean for company, especially when it came to my brother and his best friend.

- You realize they're teenage boys, right? They're not going to notice if the rug's been vacuumed, or if the mantle's been dusted.

I replied as I reluctantly made my way downstairs.

- How 'bout you watch your smartass mouth and do what I said?

I gulped and submissively started cleaning the living room and kitchen.

My mom was a very bitter and fussy woman. She was just a little shorter than me and had the astonishing ability to wake up every day with a renewed hatred for the world. She was cold and domineering, with a swift temper, at least with me. Three years ago, my dad decided he'd had enough, and he left us to move back to his hometown in Pennsylvania. But not everyone has the luxury of running off when things get tough. 

I went into the hallway closet and grabbed the vacuum for the fourth time this week. When my dad left, my mom's OCD tendencies got worse. Now, if our old, southern home isn't immaculate at all times, it sends her into a frenzy. She's even gone so far as to leave work in the middle of the day just to make sure the counters were wiped down.

I plugged in the vacuum in the living room and began my tedious chores, which were relieved about an hour later when my twin brother, Samuel finally walked through the door, his best friend, Jake Healy, close behind.

Although we were twins, Sam and I couldn't be more different. He was a wide receiver for the high school football team, earning him a spot amongst the 'popular' crowd at our school. And Jake? Well, he was the quarter back. Yes, it was a match made in fuckboy heaven.

Sam and Jake have been best friends since the second grade. In fact, all three of us used to be close. Like three little musketeers, we'd waste away the hours afterschool playing by the lake behind our house. But things changed in middle school – the boys started playing football and quickly became popular in school, while I scoffed at popularity and preferred books to people.

Nowadays, their bromance just annoyed me. I could hardly stand most of the people at my school. And I certainly didn't need Jake, or should I say, "Mr. Peyton Manning Wannabe" walking around with his shirt off while I sported my "I just survived a day of high school so don't talk to me" attire. Not that he ever noticed anyway.