Melodies of Rival Hearts

Chapter Four

The next morning, I woke up to Valerie blow-drying her hair. She looked joyful and the sunlight made her tan skin radiate. She looked ready to take on the day, dressed in a flowing blouse and jeans that made her look professional. I yawned, stretched, and sat up in my bed, feeling a slight chill from the blow-dryer and the morning air on my skin. Glancing at the clock, I noticed that it was only 7:30 in the morning. Why was she so dressed up already?

Valerie turned off the blow-dryer when she noticed that I was awake from my slumber. Lightly, she began, "Well, good morning, sleepyhead." Her smile revealed two dimples.

"You know that I hate pet names, please stop," I cringed. I raised my arms in another stretch.

"You look like you're ready for your classes. Why are you so dressed up?" I asked, slowly swinging my legs over the side of my bed.

"Well, there's a party tonight that I want us to go to. I thought I'd get a head start on getting ready." Her grin widened, as if trying to persuade me with her happiness alone.

"Valerie, no." I stood up and walked over to the dresser to retrieve my clothes for the day.

"Please," she pleaded with me, her eyes desperate.

"No," I ended.

"Fine," she said, shrugging. "It's after all of your classes today, so I'll ask you again then." She laughs as an idea plants in her head. "Or I could take your keys so you have to come with me."

I grabbed my shampoo and conditioner and shot her a serious glare. "So when you don't get your way, you plan to steal?"

"Come on, Cordelia it's not that deep. For me?"

She grabbed my arms, gently halting anymore movements. I still had my toiletries in hand.

I sighed and groaned in defeat. "Fine, Valerie. But no more parties. Remember what happened at the last party I went to?"

"Cordelia, that was an accident. I'm sure Celeste didn't mean to spill alcohol on you."

Alcohol. Another addiction that can make people go haywire. I despised it. I've made it a mission to avoid anything that could lead to an addiction because of what happened to my mom. Drugs, alcohol, and even too much caffeine -- I steer clear of it all.

"Who knows? Maybe this party will change your mind about parties," she added to her case. I looked at the clock and saw that I needed to get ready now.

I rolled my eyes and let go of her grip. "Okay, please stop talking about it."

Her smile widens. "THANK YOU!" She jumped with happiness. "And it won't be the last party."

"We'll see about that," I remark, concluding our conversation as I exit our shared room. Making my way to the public showers and bathrooms, I find one stall available. I had to exert some assertiveness to claim it from a rude woman who even flipped me off. This morning rush made it very crowded and I felt some sympathy for her.

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I got into my ensemble class quickly, realizing that I had only two minutes left before being late. It was a close call.

"Good morning class," Maestro Giovanni greeted us as he handed out our graded essay papers. He was efficient in grading, given how small our class was. When I received mine, I saw that I had scored a 96. My annoyance grew as I read the comment that suggested I needed to provide more input on other people's performances.

We discussed our essays with each other and asked him for feedback, which he freely gave to the students. Afterward, our teacher delved into an exchange of views on Johannes Brahms, a renowned composer.

"Johannes Brahms wrote many pieces that are popular in classical music. He was alive from 1833 to 1897. Does anyone know the piece Danzas húngaras in particular? Can someone give me a description?" Maestro Giovanni asked the class, awaiting a response.

Atticus raised his hand eagerly, and so did I, waiting to be called on.

"Yes, Cordelia?" Giovanni looked at me curiously. Inside my head, I celebrate being first.

"Danzas húngaras is a rapid and energetic piece, rooted in a tradition of dance," I replied, confidently.

Before Maestro Giovanni could respond, Atticus interjected, "It's a piece that celebrates Hungary's beloved tradition of dance."

I shot Atticus an angry glare. Why did he always have to correct me?

"Yes, Atticus, that's correct. Thank you, Cordelia, for your input," Maestro Giovanni said, smiling at me warmly.

I smiled at my teacher, then kept my glare on Atticus. He looked at me with an eye roll. Sometimes, I wished his eyes would get stuck like that.

As class ended, I exhaled, not feeling ready for tonight. I hoped Atticus wouldn't be there; he would make the party miserable. And as much as I disliked Atticus, Celeste would undoubtedly make it even worse.

I packed my bag and headed out of the classroom. Valerie's words echoed in my mind. "Why do you let it bother you so much?" I nodded to myself, determined to not let it get under my skin. Fake it until you make it, Cordelia. Pretend that it doesn't bother you, I told myself.

This party was going to be interesting. At least my social interaction would be up.....right?