A Life Foretold

Chapter 13: And So Together We Must Bear

 4835 words.

"It appears I'm a jealous person."

"Idiot, I don't see how you could be anything like that." I said, shoving chocolate I still had from Halloween down my throat. I was seven at the time. Canary, my oldest friend, licked a popsicle next to me. Even that seemed reserved.

I met her in my private elementary school, both of our families wealthy yet both of our parents being the 'disgrace' of the lineage. Canary and I were the generations that were supposed to 'make up' for it, and because of our wealth, we were taught to speak and write eloquently with every word dripping of money. Later, for those reasons, Canary was sent far away to another prestigious private school.

Canary stretched under the large oak tree. "Your father plays with children. He plays with me and you." Her eyelids narrowed in sadness, yearning for something I didn't yet understand as she watched my father play with young children that were strangers, jumping on him and hugging him like they knew him their entire life. Father was good with kids. He loved them.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "we should ask him to play tag with us."

Canary hummed. "I-," her voice seemed more delicate than normal, and that caught my attention, "I don't have a dad. That is what I'm jealous of. I dislike this feeling."

I unfolded my arms from atop my head, gingerly putting them down to physically illustrate her voice was heard. "You..." a blush of slight embarrassment rose to my cheeks, "...you can share my dad."

Canary's gray eyes widened, warmth coloring her face. "I'd like that."

A toothy grin, "come on," I beckoned her with enthusiasm, "let's have fun!"

She hastily nodded and chased after me, and after we ran and ran and ran until our legs were wobbly and sore, we collapsed like starfish onto a patch of dandelions.

"Thank you, Killua."

~*~

"I'm tired." So very tired.

I was in Bisky's office. A white, linen bandage was wrapped around my head and my hands still shook. Bisky stared at me with deep concern in her gaze, arms folded together and sheet music neatly stacked by her laptop. "Killua, what happened?"

"Just a bit stressed, is all. I need to go take the chemistry test."

She shook her head, "no, Killua, you aren't doing anything of that sort, today."

"I see." I closed my eyes and brought my arms behind my head. "Well, everything is fine, and I'd rather not get behind."

She shook her head, again, "Killua, you're allowed to speak to us. I'm sorry I've been tough on you."

Tears welled up; I hated it.

Tell? Not tell?

The music camp of gray practice rooms and dinged pianos.

Tick, tick, tick.

My teeth clenched; Bisky clapped her hands. "Killua, can't you hear the metronome?!" Fingers were not working. My pinkies were not working. They cramped as nerves tangled, not moving fluidly like held by stiffened puppet strings, stiff even after freed from the puppeteer. Panic arose. Tick, tick, tick, said the metronome; my playing said differently.