The Prodigy

Chapter 1

"So the definition of a prodigy, on page 276, is 'a person with exceptional talent in a defining area.' The conceived idea of a prodigy ranks higher on our scale than gifted."

My psychology class was talking about prodigies. I would know most about, since I am one myself, and listening to my psychologist trying to decipher my thoughts gave me a head start to the lesson in this class. (Yes, because of my hot-wired brain, I have my own psychologist, Ms. Suzanne.)

My teacher, Mr. Frester, literally had no clue what it is like being a child prodigy. Nor did anyone in this class.

"So to remind you all," he said. "Our scale begins with just average intelligence." Mr. Frester uncapped a black dry-erase maker and began scribbling on the white board average.

That was the majority of the class. Just average. I kinda wished I was like them, to be honest.

"Then you have bright intelligence."

I looked around the classroom again. Maybe a few students were actually bright.

"And then gifted."

No one in this class was gifted. At least in academics. I can't judge otherwise.

"Then finally we have prodigies." He scribbled the word on top of the list.

That was me. The musical genius. No one actually knew that though, but my psychologist, family, and a couple dozen international Philharmonic directors. They all wanted me as soon as I graduated high school.

Which would be in two years.

"Now, the brains of prodigies are slightly different than us normal people." said Mr. Frester. He began explaining, but I didn't care to listen.

Yes, I was the luck of the draw when I was born. I can play violin like Mozart. But who seriously cares? No one here. I just wanted to be a normal teenager, but with a pressuring family, it's quite hard to be "normal". I made it my mission though to make sure no one found out that I was a little too gifted. They would all go crazy.

Just like how my parents think I've gone crazy. They hired my own psychologist. I wanted to laugh them off, but I realized that Ms. Suzanne was pretty helpful when it came to concerto competition season. She knew how to get my nerves under control.

PLUS. If everyone knew that I was beyond talented, I would  literally be treated like an alien.

What makes me laugh though is that our school concert master, Breanne, had only been playing violin since she was five. She loved to brag about how good she was. Everyone  worshipped her because they thought she was so good. I wasn't in our school orchestra program (but our orchestra director knew of my prodigious level) however, that concert master, Breanne was a bit too cocky. She played at a level five in the Violin Methods books, which, granted, is sufficiently higher than the vast majority of string players our age, but I was on book ten, and I started violin when I was six.

Breanne totally hated my guts. She's the Queen Bee around here and is under the impression that I have no gifts or talents whatsoever. I really just want to grab her "10 thousand dollar violin." (she's filthy rich) and play Devil's Trill. From memory. I wonder how she would respond to that.

But then again, that would involve playing a cheapo violin. I'm not filthy rich, but I have a Stradivarius violin that I inherited from my grandfather, who was actually one of the great-something grandchild of Antonio Stradivarius. There is no way we could afford one in reality because  Strads run for about 15 MILLION dollars nowadays, which makes Breanne's 10,000 dollar violin look puny.

She's always trying to nose her way into concerto competitions. Somehow, she never ends up entering, so I get to participate. I've won a few competitions, but nothing too extraordinary.

I do know for a fact that this year, our whole music program is offering a concerto competition. Of course, this is right up Breanne's alley, but I might just enter, just so I could show her whose boss...with a Stradivarius violin.