Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Seven

     The next afternoon, I entered the door to my lesson room. Miss Bellefonte acknowledged me briefly before returning to her computer. I stood quietly until she finished. “Are you ready? Did you practice? Follow me,” she said briskly without waiting for answers. She clicked out of the room on her high heels with me trailing softly behind in flats. She walks too fast, I sighed to myself. Miss Bellefonte was so oddly detached, it seemed, almost as though she were a preprogrammed robot of some sort. She gestured to another door, obviously wanting me to open it. I turned the knob, pushed the door open, and went inside, closely followed by the click of Miss Bellefonte’s heels.

     Two other teachers sat in the far end of the room; closer to me was the mysterious Oliver Beckett and an absolutely stunning blonde girl. Oliver made no sign that we had already met; he mimicked the blonde girl’s apathetic half-turn in my direction, his eyes giving me the same once-over I’d given the blonde. “Oliver Beckett, Marianna Sheffield.” Miss Bellefonte gestured towards me. “Charlotte Gray.”

     Marianna said nothing; she simply nodded in my direction as I approached the two of them. Oliver, on the other hand, bowed and took one of my hands in both of his. With a smirk, he kissed my hand and said, “Ever so pleased to meet the lovely Miss Gray.”

     Miss Bellefonte and the other female teacher departed, leaving the three of us with a short man in his mid-twenties. He took off his glasses and huffed onto the lenses, rubbing circles with his sleeve. After pushing his glasses back onto his nose, he said, “My name is Simon Lovell. You three will spend a great deal of time in this room together. You are expected to rehearse together on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I will be in here with you on Fridays to assess your weekly progress. Mondays and Thursdays will be lessons as usual with your teachers. Master Beckett, that leaves you with me,” added Lovell as an afterthought.

     “For now, I will give you three your first piece of music to read.” Lovell gave me the soprano part of the song, and Marianna took the alto. Oliver sat down at a beautiful grand piano that had been polished until it gleamed like oil. The keys were perfectly white, not a smudge or speck on them. Marianna ignored me and flipped through the song. I did the same.

     Titled Overhead Star-ground, it looked nothing short of complicated. My eyes widened at the sight of the song, wondering what the hell I had just been assigned to. Surely, others were not tossed into something so difficult in their first week at the Web? The piano part looked difficult; I narrowed my eyes and glanced over at Oliver, who had calmly sat down at the piano. His hands drifted over the keys, pretending to play the music. Marianna showed an incomprehensible lack of emotion, displaying almost a casual boredom as her eyes scanned the page. I swallowed but decided there was absolutely no way I would mess up. I would not make a mistake. I would not panic.

     The words to the song made very little sense, but they were pretty. It was an idealistic sort of song, something that should have been simple and yet somehow wasn’t.

     Overhead the evening sky / Past the dawn with fingers red / Treading softly, flying high / Until I touch the star-ground

     I frowned at the whimsical words, already loathing the song fiercely. Lovell cleared his throat and commanded, “You should have had enough time by now; let me hear you sight-read. Take it nice and slow; this is a gentle song, do not rush it.” I briefly wondered why I had never heard it, not even as a hummed tune from a mother to her child. Then, Oliver’s fingers danced over the piano keys in a hauntingly hopeful introduction. I had no experience in reading notes and singing them, only with matching pitch. I immediately messed up.

     Oliver’s hands drifted to a stop and Lovell scowled at me. “Excuse me?” He lifted one eyebrow disdainfully. Marianna glared at me, conveying with that one look how she couldn’t believe the nerve of me, messing up like that.