Invisible.
I walked the halls alone. The atmosphere of the entire hallways shift as soon as my presence is made. I could feel sympathetic looks from all around me. I didn't want their sympathy. I didn't need it anymore. I make my way to my locker on the other end of the hallway. I reach the familiar light green door with the old lock attached. I go through the motions, enter my combination, take out homework and replace with upcoming class's assignments and the requirements for the class. On my way to my first hour class I began to think of how the teachers will look at me now. Would they give me looks of sympathy or just the normal fake smiling faces that they normally give out freely? This question tugged at my mind, begging for an answer. However I could not give myself the answer. I would have to wait to find out myself.
I push my way past people and end up becoming two minutes late to my first hour class, English. When I walked through the open door I immediately noticed the students look up at me and give looks of empathy and sadness. To answer my previous question I glance at the teacher. He looked at me with pity in his old grey eyes. Pity. I slowly make my way to my desk in the far right corner, nothing unusual about that. I had always sat there even before the incident. I wasn't going to break my classroom routine from that, although most people would. I sit down and the tension in the room was unbearable. I kept my tongue though. I take out my classroom necessities. When I did this the looks slowly turned towards the teacher. Eventually I looked up to see the teacher writing on the board.
The entire day was like this. The routine, the looks and the incoherent hushed words. By the time lunch past the class that I knew I would dread the most, Choir. I push the doors and instantly the same thing happened. The looks, the hushed words and stares. I sit down in my chair, as we were always directed. I felt empty here now. It was starting to come back. The phone call, the tears and the body. The bell rang and everybody rushed to their chairs. The choir teacher waltzed in as always, from the back door. His proper clothing always made him seem mature and collected. In fact he was almost entirely the opposite. He was far from mature and cool. He was also young and decent. His longer brown hair and small stubble on his face made him an instant favorite for all the girls.
"Hello class. We will start out with a new warm-up song." His voice smooth and he makes eye contact with me. "Cristina come down here." I stand up and watch as the looks and voices were silenced. I walk down to the front of the room. He whispered to me so nobody else could hear. "I am sorry for your loss but I want you to do something for me okay?"
I nod my head, trying to understand what he was trying to say. He smiles and takes out sheet music. My eyes look down at the paper. I didn't bother reading the title or the lyrics. I noticed the music notes and dynamics. The soft crescendo and the slight complexity of them. Only then did I look at the title of the song. Broken. I felt a fresh set of tears begin at my eyes. This song was too much. I look up at my choir teacher. He gives me a reassuring smile, "It has been a week Cristina, but sometimes through a song you can express much more than you could ever with words. We, as a class, know that you are the leader of this choir and we want you to start us off with these songs."
The words he spoke to me weren't like most. Most people whispered apologizes and continued on. My choir teacher wanted me to sing what I was feeling. He wanted the whole class to know what it was like in my shoes. He wanted to know what it was like. I look him directly in the eye and nod my head. "I know I could make it through." I take a deep breath and noticed two pieces of paper. "What is the other song?" I ask.
My choir teacher smiles and says, "Invisible." He shows me the music and I read it over a few times and slowly grab the sheet music from him. I look at him and said, "This is the one I will play for warm-up ." With those words I make my way to the piano and my choir teacher grabs his guitar. I had a feeling that he knew I was going to choose this song, or he memorized both of the songs, I sit down on the piano bench and place my sheet music down on the small stand. I gently take my fingers and place them on the keys. I began the song, the notes starting softly but then grew with force as my teacher joined in on guitar. I glanced up to see students staring at us. Their eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. I felt that they no longer pitied me, they wanted to know the truth. The truth on what happened.
