An Endless Serenade

Chapter Eight

By Monday, somehow the rumor that I was a, and I quote, "piano-playing goddess" had spread throughout the school. How someone could have gathered that out of my playing of Moonlight Sonata, I will never know, but that's what came out of it. I figured a few detail changes factored in somewhere, and some dramatizations too. But that was to be expected. I hadn't imagined the expressions on everyone's faces— on Olivia's face.

So that was why I wasn't surprised to find a threatening note stuck to the inside of my locker.

Get out of here, commoner. This is no place for trash like you. You're just a mediocre pianist wanting to be a hotshot.

Sighing, I crumpled up the note and threw it to the base of my locker. Apparently someone had found out about my financial status as well. Which was a little creepy, but it didn't matter to me. So what if I wasn't rich? Only 99.99% of the population was. It just so happened quite a bit of that population went here.

"What is this, preschool?" I muttered, finding another note stuck to my English notebook.

Anyone can play Moonlight Sonata. Don't get too ahead of yourself.

A scoff left my lips. "Are you kidding me? Get ahead of myself?"

"Who are you talking to?"

Nearly jumping out of my skin, I turned to see Oliver standing behind me. He offered me a small smile. Placing a hand on my heart, I let my shoulders sag. "You scared me."

"I see that," he commented with a grin. "So what's up with that note?"

"Apparently my class is threatened by my mediocre piano skills... you know, I thought stuff like this only happened in movies?"

Frowning, Oliver took the note out of my hand. "Oh, I heard about this."

I smiled wryly. "Aren't you in guitar?"

"Word spreads quickly. Hello, Internet."

"Awesome."

"You must be pretty amazing though, for everyone to be so intimidated."

Shaking my head, I closed my locker, suddenly feeling weary. "I don't get it though. I mean, Moonlight Sonata isn't a difficult piece."

"Allie, playing good music isn't just about the level of difficulty. It's about the way you portray the feeling, about how you play it," Oliver informed me, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. "You should know that."

"Huh... I guess I never thought of it that way."

He smiled. "Guess not, huh?"

"But still... this is bad."

"I'll say," Oliver agreed, glancing down at the note in his hand. "This happens a lot though. It usually dies down in a week. It happened to me once."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really," he insisted, his dark eyes glinting with mystery. "I took care of it easily though."

"Do I want to know?"

"Nope."

I laughed, nodding. "Okay, I won't ask then. What are you doing here so early, anyway?"