Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Ten

     Taking after Oliver, Marianna made no mention of our little discussion. She never once looked my way, spoke to me, or made any sort of indication that we had ever spoken directly to each other. I thought it strange, the way people kept doing that. Was I really so unlikable? Were they ashamed to even admit—even to themselves –that they had spoken to me? Made even one second of eye contact with me?

     “No, no, no! Master Beckett, why must you insist upon playing everything like an eight-year-old girl?” Lovell practically shed tears in frustration. Timeless, a somber love song, told of the undying love a woman had for her deceased husband. It was so quiet and unassuming; I just loved it. “It says melancholy, not dainty!” Gesticulating wildly, Lovell had now jabbed his finger into Oliver’s face multiple times. “If you continue to screw up like this, you will be asked to leave! After seven years, might I add…” he trailed off nastily.

     His face white as the starched sheet on my bed, I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He nodded wordlessly, violently, his head bobbing up and down repeatedly. Lovell smiled without any warmth—he looked rather like the fox that had stolen into the chicken coop. “Good,” he purred, “now let’s take it from the beginning, shall we?”

     Rather missing the delicate style, we listened to the introduction again. I much preferred the faint, hollow sound to this richer tone. The words in the song described a grief that did not swallow the woman or pierce her, but more a grief that slowly slunk around her feet. It was bittersweet, not drowning. However, Lovell seemed to have had a devastating effect on Oliver and he was suddenly compliant and submissive.

     Oddly, that bothered me.

     Marianna and I began to sing, our voices complimenting each other wonderfully as always. This song was my favorite out of the three—infinitely better even than Photograph, which was also a lovely song.

     Where have you gone, my love / That you had to stray from me? / So far gone, you are, my love / And to this day, I cannot believe…

     Forty years, I had with you / But now, you left behind / All the memories we shared, the joys, the laughs, the tears…

     “Oh, my, the time! You must get to dinner; I have kept you too long!” interrupted Lovell. Our rehearsal, ordinarily directly after school, had been postponed for reasons we had yet to learn. He was right; it was nearly time for dinner. All lessons were, by regulation standards, over by five. It was ten past five. We had too much time to go to dinner now, but not enough to return to our rooms. I would now have to spend an awkward twenty minutes with Marianna and Oliver. Lovell virtually pushed us from the room, herding us like sheep, and locked the door behind him before hurrying off to goodness knew where.

     Marianna glared at us, saving a special glare for each. “Well?” she snapped. “Why didn’t anyone keep an eye on the clock?”

     “You try butting heads with Lovell,” retorted Oliver angrily, his hands clenching. His face had reacquired some color, but I noticed that his voice, though fuming, shook slightly.

     Rolling her eyes—a gesture that seemed commonplace for her –she replied with a cutting, “You do it all the time? What made today different?”

     “As if you even care!”

     “Maybe I do! Did you ever ask me if I cared?”

     I felt like a spectator at a tennis match, watching the two competitors butting heads repeatedly as the argument swung back and forth. “Fine! Do you care?”