Prodigy

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Today was the day. Finally. Today marked the first day of my senior year of high school. I finished curling the last piece of my hair and looked at my reflection in the mirror, feeling content. For once, I looked really put together. It felt unnatural, but if there was any day to dress to impress, it was the first day of your senior year.

I was wearing a pair of high-waisted, dark skinny jeans with a lacy white top. My usual wavy and unruly hair had been neatly styled and curled, and I was wearing some light makeup. I almost didn't recognize myself. I glanced at my phone, checking the time and grimaced. I was running a tad late. I quickly collected my things and bounded down the stairs and to the kitchen, where my younger sister anxiously waited for me.

"C'mon, c'mon we have to go." She urged me as I grabbed a blueberry muffin. We were almost out the front door and to my car when our mother's shrill voice stopped us.

"Wait girls I didn't get a picture!" We both groaned in unison and dropped our bags inside the car before walking back to the front door. My mother grabbed my phone and snapped three pictures of each of us by ourselves and one of us together. We then quickly hurried back to my car, our mom shouting to send the pictures so she could post them on Facebook today.

"Are you excited for your first day of school?" I asked, turning toward my sister Ann once we were stopped in the school parking lot. She shrugged and opened the door, getting out of the car. "Just be careful, and let me know where you're eating lunch today." She mumbled her response and we parted ways. It was nice getting to spend at least one year of high school with my sister, I don't think I could've handled more than that, though.

My little sister, Anne, was three and a half years younger than me. She was an avid athlete, a child prodigy in the field of golf, and she liked to sing on the side. She auditioned for the school's top choir, and had made it, so I would at least have one class with her, even though I'd be sitting behind the piano playing behind the singers. It still counted. Kinda.

With a sigh, I grabbed my belongings from the back of the car and walked into the school and through the crowded hallways to the music buildings. The music buildings were my solace.
They were two large buildings connected by a hallway located near the cafeteria, and all the music related classes were in there. There were two large ensemble rooms in the main building, one for the band and one for the choir, each ensemble room was equipped with three small practice rooms, an office for each group's conductor, a locker room to hold instruments and music, a music library, and a kitchen. The hallway was lined with several small practice rooms and two bathrooms. And at the very end of the hallway, you stepped into the music addition building. It was a double story building, the bottom floor housed a piano lab room and a smaller ensemble room for keyboard classes. The upstairs was lined with a few more practice rooms and another large ensemble room for the strings students ensemble to work.

I made my way down the hallways, which were full of noise at 7:30 AM and opened the door to my studio. What I saw inside my room surprised me. There was a boy seated on my piano bench, playing away on my Steinway and Sons piano. He was currently looking off his phone, which was opened on the Ultimate Guitar Tabs app, at chords for Sam Smith's "Stay With Me." The boy was singing along with the music his hands were creating; he had a deep, and mind you out of tune, baritone voice. I waited, impatiently, for him to finish playing and singing, and when he was done, I cleared my throat.

The boy jumped back and turned his head so he could look at me. I almost instantly recognized him and mentally cursed. His name was Emmet Brown. He was about 6'3, broad shoulders, rippling pectorals, crazy build, and crazier ego. He was an athlete and sang with the choir, though he didn't take it very seriously. He was also incredibly smart, top of our grade. He wanted to be an engineer or something math related like that. His constant go to joke was that he was a great male singer, but he was going to be an engineer. He thought he was great.