Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 10

When I leave for school, the sun is barely beginning to peak over the horizon. The cold air stings my face and hands, but it helps keep my thoughts from Courtney. Once I get to school, I park my bike and climb off, putting the helmet on the freezing handlebars as I do everyday. Courtney's white jeep isn't here yet, which I was expecting since school starts in 45 minutes. The school doors are locked, but I know that the music room window is open, as it has been for the past 2 years. I walk over to it, climb through it, landing softly on my feet inside. The music teacher, Mr. Madison, lifts his eyes from the thick, old book he s reading. I take a deep breath. It smells the same as it had the last time I was in here when I was 16, like polished wood, roasted peanuts-which Mr. Madison was constantly eating- and metallic from the horns resting safely in their cases. I wave to him. "Hi Sam, how are you? I haven't seen you in here for a while, especially sneaking in in the mornings," his green eyes meet mine through his thick glasses. His hair has changed a lot, I notice. It used to be half black and half white. Now, it looks as if winter came early and it snowed on his head. "I'm fine, thanks. How about you? I don't even see you anywhere anymore," I say, putting down my jacket. "I'm good, but I'm not the one with the dead parents and a previous drug addict for a brother," he says lightly. "Yes, I know that. But, I might add, I was terrified for him. I thought he would end up like my dad." I told Mr. Madison everything. He was a good listener. And he called it how he saw it. He never beat-around-the-bush, he never sugar-coated anything, and he never told anyone anything. "I know you thought that. You told me. Anyway, what do you come to me for on such a special occasion?" he asks, setting his book down on his desk and rising to his feet. I shrug. "Which one 'touches the soul'? That's how you used to tell me to pick and I never could." "That's because you never believed you had a soul. But I, being much wiser than you, know that you do, in fact, have a soul. Everyone does, yours is just a little more hidden than most. Much harder to reach for you and the world. In order for anyone else to reach it, you must reach it first and know when to hide it and let it show," he says walking over to the grand piano standing in the back of the room. He's wearing a maroon button-down shirt and black slacks. "I, personally, think that the violin sounds wonderful with the piano," he says, gesturing to the violin leaning on the piano. "You need to teach these little bastards how to put their instruments back on the stand," I say, lifting the instrument, letting it rest on my shoulder. "Yes, they leave them off much to often. But, my son, I had a feeling that you would be back soon. So, I found a way for the violin to stay safely propped up against my beautiful, yet old, piano. Because this piano has seen better days and has played better notes than many students can play, it vibrates and rattles with each keystroke. I have been preparing it for you. There is almost no way for you to safely transport your aged violin on your bike. I have aged this one for you," he says, watching me carefully tune the violin and put my chin on the edge. I play a small piece of Adagio for Strings, to make sure I tuned it properly. "My boy, it sounds wonderful. Do you still play at home?" "Never Mr. Madison." "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I think it goes for instruments as well as people. The violin was always your favorite, even if you didn't know it." The aged wood made the most beautiful sound in the world. I didn't even realize that I had begun to play again until I heard Mr. Madison gasp. I was a little over halfway through Adagio when he did it. I had reached our favorite part, which always sounded better when accompanied by another violin. So Mr. Madison quickly picked up another and played with me. It was a beautiful piece and, according to Mr. Madison, I could play it wonderfully. But, never had he gasped at my work before. I felt something in the violin. Like a pulse. I knew that the violin couldn't possess a pulse. But it felt as if the instrument were alive. I played quicker and harder than I ever had before. Letting my pain and sorrow and doubt and my confused feelings for Courtney pour into the instrument, giving it life. Mr. Madison was right, he had aged this violin well. It was more aged than mine. But mine has been sitting next to a stereo on a stand for 2 years. A loud stereo. It's probably pretty aged. As that song died, I open my eyes and see Mr. Madison staring at me wide- eyed. "Want to play another one?" I ask and he smiles. "How about I giorni: andante? I'm better on the piano." I return his smile. He know that I always loved that one.

We played our hearts out for what seemed like about 10 minutes. It turned out to be 30 minutes. "Well, my boy, I hope you visit me again soon. It's not often I get that kind of talent in here. Although I do believe the more troubled you are the better of a musician you make. Although, throughout the years, I've seen many troubled people and sometimes they just break the instrument. Your brother is the best cello player I have ever met. And I have met many cello players." "Let me play one more small piece of my own." "Be my guest Samuel," he says walking over to his desk. I hear a knock on the door, but can't bring myself to stop. The music fills the room, but I can hear Mr. Madison talking to someone. "Samuel!" he calls. I stop moving my hands and open my eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, my child, but I cannot hear her." There stands Courtney, watching me closely. She hands Mr. Madison a book. "Thank you for lending it to me," she says and smiles at me. "Any time Courtney." "I didn't know you could play the violin Sam." I smile and put the violin back on it's stand by the wall. "You two know each other?" Mr. Madison asked, looking between us. "Well, he kind of tripped over me and jumped out of the bushes to give me his phone number, if you call that knowing each other." The bell rang. I walked over to Mr. Madison and wrapped my arms around the tall, skinny man. We were very much alike. The same height, we used to have the same hair, and we have the same long nimble fingers. "Don't push her away," he whispers and pats me on the back. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks," I say as I pull away from him and walk out the door. Courtney trails behind me. "You never told me you were friends with Mr. Madison," she said having to jog almost to match my quick,long stride. "You never asked. I didn't know you were friends with him either." She shrugs, "I borrow books from him every now and then." I nod and stop at my locker. "I'll see you in class then," she says and keeps walking. I smile and wonder if she has shared anything with Mr. Madison like I have.