Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Nine

     Oliver made no mention of his actions the next day, or any other days that followed. We met with Marianna on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays as instructed, going to our regular lessons on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. In the next two weeks, we received three other pieces of music: Maybelle Flying, Photograph, and a lovely solemn song by the name of Timeless. I despised Maybelle Flying; the damn song was simply too happy. The piano part was obnoxious and grand, with many flourishes, and was played at a loud forte for the entirety of the song. I developed a raging headache the first time we rehearsed Maybelle Flying. Luckily, two rehearsals later, Lovell decided that I was hopeless at the song and pulled it from our repertoire, replacing it with a cheerful but much less obnoxious song titled Open Door. I spent my days at school, my afternoons at lessons, and my evenings split between homework, practicing, and dinner before falling into bed exhausted by ten o’clock.

     Lydia and I sat together at dinner each evening, arriving at half past five and leaving at six. Oliver had not asked for my company since that night, not that I wanted him to. I was relieved to not have to deal with the strain of watching everything I said with him. Dancing around his moods had been difficult. He hardly even glanced at me in rehearsal, either. After diverting Lydia’s questions, she took the hint and dropped the subject.

     On the month-anniversary of the day I’d arrived at the Web, Lydia nudged me at dinner. “Your pianist is staring at you,” she whispered.

     I groaned. “Is he coming over here?” I asked apprehensively without looking up. Maybe if I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact, he’ll leave me alone. Right, I should be so lucky.

     “Yes, sorry. Whatever did happen, by the way? I thought you liked him.”

     I shook my head. “No. He’s absolutely infuriating. He makes no sense.”

     I sensed someone approaching from behind. “Who is?” Oliver snapped.

     “A friend of Lydia’s that she introduced me to yesterday,” I invented effortlessly. “He has no idea when to keep his mouth shut.”

     Lydia grinned. “Ah, but I find him so entertaining!” she exclaimed warmly.

     “Oliver, this is my roommate, Lydia. Lydia, this is my… associate, Oliver. He plays the piano.”

     “Oliver…” she mused, “I’ve not heard anything of you yet.” The slightly nervous glance in my direction gave away the lie.

     With a charming smile, Oliver replied in a similarly dishonest fashion, “My fair-haired beauty, it is with deepest regret that I must say the same for you!”

     Lydia giggled. I felt the need to intervene. “Was there something you needed, Oliver?” I asked during the conversation lull.

     “Must I require something in order to speak to you?”

     The mock hurt in his eyes made Lydia gasp with sympathy. “Oh, Charlotte, you cannot possibly be so cruel, can you?” she gasped, clearly captured by the puppy dog eyes.

     “Oh, Lydia, truly you can’t have possibly fallen for his little act?” I sighed.

     Oliver whispered something to Lydia that made her laugh and—was that a trace of a blush on her cheeks? Someone sorely needed to put that boy in his place. I sat in awkward silence while he flirted with my sweet, naïve roommate. I finished eating my dinner and stood up, aiming to put my plate away; I found myself impeded by Oliver. “Shall we?”