A Tribute For Tia

Chapter 2

It was a Monday when I decided not go to school. It was an easy choice, really. It was the end of the semester, and that meant exams. Even though they started on the Friday, I really wasn't in the mood to do some last moment studying, so I stayed in bed until I heard my mother leave. She was almost silent, but the door slammed in the wind loud enough for me to hear. Of course, the sound of her roaring away in her expensive car usually drew me out of bed, so it wasn't like I didn't know she was leaving. I waited a few minutes to make sure she was not coming back, then I sluggishly got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, lifting the note she left me without looking at it- but I read it over once quickly when I was reaching into the fridge for something to eat.

Alistair,

There's a box of leftover Chinese food from a work meeting last night, so you can heat that up and have it for dinner because your father and I will be late home.

No parties.

That's how she left it. I laughed, and then threw it in the general direction of the bin. The bin also received the box of leftovers around ten seconds later, so I was sure it was feeling loved. I felt something brush up against my leg; looking down, I watched the cat –well, my mother's cat, who she insisted in calling Ginger, even though that was the most obvious name for an orange cat- flick her tail against the open fridge door then weave her way through my parted legs. As I swallowed the urge to kick her away, I continued digging through for some food. The carton of eggs was full but I knew there wasn't any bacon, so I decided to make some pancakes.

As I flipped them over, Ginger decided that it was a fantastic time to jump up on the counter and yowl at me. I flicked her off without actually touching her, as she never allowed me to touch her that early in the morning. After giving me the feline equivalent of a glare, she jumped off and began scratching the daylights out of the couch. Rolling my eyes –and taking a mental note to think of an excuse about the claw marks- I stacked the pancakes onto a plate and carried them over to the chair that was never occupied by anyone but me. It was soft and comfortable, big enough that I could sit easily in it when my legs were crossed.

When the phone rang, I let it go to voicemail.

"Hey, Alistair. Sorry that I didn't see you last night, but I was-"

"Late home." I said at the same time my father did.

"But you know that. I hope I don't get another phone call telling me that you haven't been at school again. Alright, son? You need to keep your grades up or you won't get a good job. That's all me and your mother want for you."

I stopped listening about then, just absentmindedly shovelling pancakes in my mouth without really thinking; but of course they were too hot, and I ended up choking on them –attractive- and spitting them all over the spotless carpet. Ginger stopped clawing at the furniture for a moment to inspect the mess I had made, but even she wouldn't eat them.

***

It was cold enough to snow outside when I shut the door behind me. I pulled the grey scarf around me tighter as I braved the sharp wind to walk to the music store. Not to buy a new guitar, of course. As if I would have the money for that. I wanted a job, and a music store was the only place I could think of that I knew something about.

There was a bell hanging from the door frame, and it made a loud ringing sound when I pushed at it. Once I was inside I took a moment to look around at the instruments. There were so many I couldn't believe it; I was about to grab one off the wall and play it, but a small voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Please, we can't allow you to play the guitars without asking a staff member first."

"Oh, sorry." I murmured, spinning to look who it came from. A girl stood there behind the counter, eyes wide when she realised who I was.

"Alistair?" she cried, walking around the counter to be closer to me. "Alistair Bennett?"

"Uh, yeah?" I said, mentally cursing myself when it sounded like a question. "I mean, yes. How do you know my name?"

"I'm in your music class. You know, Maya?"

"Oh, Maya!" I smiled, acting like I knew who she was. "Yeah, sorry. I'm not great with faces."

"That's fine, I'm pretty forgettable." Her voice lowered to only a whisper, and I had to clench my fist in the fabric of my pants to avoid reaching out to tip her chin up, just so she could see me when I whispered that she wasn't forgettable, I just wasn't very observant.

"Why aren't you at school?" we both asked each other at the same time, and then laughed about it for a moment before I asked her again.

"I left. School sucks, if you haven't noticed. And it's not like anyone notices."

"What about your ? Surely they've got something to say about it." I looked sideways at her, trying to appear friendlier than I felt. "I mean, my parents do. That's the only reason I'm still enrolled. I could care less about education."

"If your parents are so worried about you attending school, then why aren't you there? Surely they've got something to say about it."

"No, they won't. And even if they did, they're never home to punish me, so it isn't like they're at home right now, waiting for me to get back."

"Oh." She said softly, her lips parting like an 'o' to accommodate the sound. "Uh... what do you need? A new guitar, maybe?"

"No," I laughed. "I'm here for a job. Any going?"

"Actually, yeah. There is, and you'll probably get in. not much competition."

"Why not? This is an awesome shop. Who wouldn't want to work here?"

"Apparently, everyone but you." She smiled at me, eyes brightening. They were an odd silver colour, beautiful but so captivating at the same time. I loved them; but they made me sad. How boring I must look to a girl of such complexity. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, black ringlets brushing her shoulders. Self- consciously, she flushed and pushed them behind her ears when she caught me staring.

"So, um... is that all?"

"What?" I asked instantly, and then regretted it straight away. "Oh, yeah, it is."

"Well, I have to go and dust the guitars out the back." She said, telling me to go away in a way that was kinder than telling me to get the hell out of the store. "So, I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, you will." I smiled, then reached out my hand to shake hers. Her grip was firm but gorgeously soft. As I exited, it took all of my will power not to turn around to look at her.