Somewhere in my dream, I could hear the piano being played. Not badly or incorrectly, but not very complex or exciting. I shifted in my sleep and then came to my senses when I felt stiff strings taught against the underside of my arms. I lifted myself and noticed that I went to sleep on the guitar while I practiced last night. Under my forearm, I discovered little red folds of skin that were compressed overnight under the guitar strings. I sighed and rubbed the creases and stood up sleepily.
It wasn't in my dream, I heard the piano somewhere downstairs being played. After scratching my arm, I staggered downstairs while holding the railing and walked into the living room. I saw the back of an unbuttoned denim t‐shirt and the glint of an earring. Namely Lucas. I walked towards him as he played the major scales on the piano with several tries. He looked up when he saw me and I grabbed a stool to sit beside the piano.
"What're you doing?" I asked him.
"Playing the piano," he said. "Not very amusing, though. I'm just playing the scales I learned from elementary school." He played the G Major scale and stopped all together. He folded his armson the piano and looked at me. "Why are you up so early?"
"Am I?" I said, scratching my head. " I just heard the piano and woke up."
"Sorry," he said.
"What kind of a babysitter are you?" I said. "You're supposed to make sure I wake up early."
Lucas grinned and stretched his arms above his head. "You seemed pretty angry yesterday, so..." he said.
I rubbed my left eye and sighed. "I'm really serious when it comes to my guitar," I said. "Or anything in my room like the globes and stuff."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said.
"Hey, I remembered," I said. "What were you telling me yesterday?"
"I'll tell you later," he said anxiously. "Why were you that angry, anyways? You know I wasn't actually gonna break it. If I did, I would've bought you a new one. Or let you use mine."
"I don't know. Playing the guitar helps me, in a sort of way," I said, and clutched my hands in my lap. "It helps me relax and you know, forget about everything in a while. I can't find that feeling while playing any other instrument."
"How come?" he said, pressing a B on the piano.
"Playing other instruments makes me feel different," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But not the kind of different you're thinking about. Different as in, something I don't want to be or something I don't want but I take anyways. It's so complicated."
"But different isn't a bad thing," he said, holding my gaze.
"For instant, the piano. Whenever I play, I feel like I'm being compacted inside although my fingers move freely. I feel like this huge balloon keeps growing bigger and bigger and I just need to deflate it. I feel insecure," I explained, tapping my foot on the leg of the stool.
"Why?" he asked me.
I sighed. "Because there's always that one instrument that I'm still dying to play properly," I said. "I think you know what it is."
Lucas nodded slowly as he absently plunked the piano. "Do you really want to play the guitar that badly?" he said.
"I at least want to complete Amazing Grace by Monday like Mr. Hansen told me to," I said. "But apart from that, yes, I do. If anything..." I peeked at him a little shyly. "I want to play that song you were playing the other day." He grinned and placed an elbow on the keyboard, facing me.
"When is 'the other day'?" he said.
"First day of school," I said. He looked amused and I stood up. "Shut up."
