Super Rich Kids (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 3: Cold Dinner

*NO current casting for Devin*

"How is college Alexander?" I offered a shrug. "You don't know?" I pursed my lips, turning around and laying on the wide leather seat in Dr. Murphy's office.

"What do you want me to say Doc? School is great, my teachers give out an obscene amount of homework and my fingers hurt from practicing so much. I'm swamped with tests and I think my hair is starting to fall out. Does my hair look thin to you?"

"Your hair looks fine Alexander."  I nodded. "So the school work is stressful? Is it too much for you?" I rolled my eyes letting out a sigh.

"I'm not made of paper Doc, I can handle a test or two."

"I'm just making sure you're in the right mindset. Your brother has repeatedly expressed concern for your mental st-" 

"I said I'm fine." I glared watching Dr. Murphy nod. "I'm done here, I'd like to leave now."

"Of course... goodbye Alexander." I didn't hear his goodbye seeing as I was already out of the door.

****

I sat in the sleek black wooden chair of our music room. The large window in front of me displayed the vast green two acres of our backyard, sun cascading through the glass and penetrating the room in a soft orange glow. My fingers grazed the rough metal strings of the instrument settled between my legs, my other hand guiding the bow against the wires.

Soft sounds emitted from the instrument; a familiar tune that I couldn't recall the name of flowed through my ears. I was content here, classical music, a beautiful view and empty thoughts.

It felt so natural playing and it always had. My parents made me take lessons when I was about eight as a way to get me out of the house for a few hours. Three times a week I would be dropped off at Mrs. Viola's house for piano lessons. She was an older woman in her late forties with the charisma and energy of a twenty year old. She was married and never had children, so constantly having me over was a blessing to her.

We would sit in her music room for hours and she would teach me everything she knew. By the age of ten I was playing the piano fluently and soon after I latched onto the violin. Mrs. Viola didn't hesitate to teach me how to play this instrument as well, and with help from her husband I doubled up and he taught me how to play guitar. By the time I was in high school I was actively playing five instruments. My parent's plans seemed to backfire seeing as I was pursuing the performing arts rather than business.

They had noticed my disinterest in business almost immediately and banned me from seeing Mrs. Viola. It took a toll on me, I was angry, and for the first semester of school I neglected all my classes except for band and orchestra.

Nearly five months later I still hadn't seen or heard from Mrs. Viola or her husband. They wouldn't answer their phones and no one was ever home when I showed up. I knew my parents had something to do with their disappearance and I made it my goal to figure out where they went.

It was when I was giving up hope on finding them that I received a phone call from Mr. Viola. Never in a million years did I think that when we finally spoke the conversation would go as it had. I imagined us sharing laughs and smiles and then planning to meet for breakfast and maybe attend a performance like we used to.

We would tell stories and I would tell them about all the high school performances I did, and how we won first place at our first competition. They would tell me how proud they were and give me huge hugs and smiles that resembled the way a parent was supposed to look at their child.