This story involves homosexual relationships between minors. If this is illegal in your area, please do not read on. This story is a work of fiction. Any characters, places, events, ideas, etc. in this story are strictly fiction and do not exist. This story is (c) 2008 Aikenliam. Any and all rights reserved. If you have questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to email me at aikenliam@ymail.com.
I forgot to mention that this story will be written in installments. I'm not sure how often I will be able to add to it, but I will try very hard to make at least one per week. Also, this is not a story filled with sex. I want to focus more on the relationships (friends, and more-than-friends) rather than sex. There might be some deeper (wink wink) relationships later, but who knows. The story's pretty much writing itself at the moment. Not even I know what the outcome will be.
As my mother and I walked through the mall, I caught something strange in the corner of my eye. Little blue Smurfs were dancing around us, chanting. What were they saying? Something about candy canes? Green ones? What's that noise? Beeping, coming from above...What is that?
The alarm clock on the table beside my bed said 5:45. Crap. I want to sleep more. What the hell was that dream? God, I've got to stop eating junk food before bed. I slowly get out of my warm, inviting bed against the magnetic force that draws me back into it. It's sooo cold. The shower is nice and warm against my cold skin. I'm so tired. I sit down in the bathtub, the warm water pouring over me, waking me, warming me, comforting me, milking the last bits of sleep from my head. I finally start soaping up after about ten minutes. My skin has warmed up, getting used to the warm water, making the water feel cold again. I adjust it to feel warm again. After getting out of the shower, I dry off and get dressed. I see my face in the mirror. I don't think I need to shave today. I shaved three days ago, ridding myself of the few peach hairs. I don't feel very hungry, so I don't think I'm going to eat breakfast. After brushing my teeth, I walked out of the bathroom, feeling the contrast from the humid air of the bathroom to the cool, fresh air on the other side of the door. It's 6:15. I've got another half hour or so before the bus comes. I check my email, even though hardly anyone emails me. Most of my emails are from a couple of internet music groups. Not much is there, so I shut the computer down and sit on the porch.
At 6:40, the bus comes around the circle drive. As I board the bus, there's a young girl chattering about something. Blah. I just want to sit and watch the world whiz by me. I walk to the very back where no one is sitting. As the bus starts rolling again, I lean my head against the window and look out. As the bus shakes, it moves my glasses around on my head, making everything look like an impressionist painting. Someone sits in the seat in front of me. I don't look to see who it is, but out of the corner of my eye, I see it's a boy. I can smell his body odor. He probably hasn't showered in three days. I sit up and move so that I'm facing the other side of the bus, my legs rested on the seat. The boy in front of me shifts and looks at me. He's grinning.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," I return.
"I'm John." He's still grinning.
"I'm Sam." I'm not trying to be rude, but it's too early in the morning to be nice.
"Maybe we can be best friends!"
He abruptly turns back around and doesn't say anything else. I realize he's mentally challenged. Awkward.
After the hour-long bus ride, I finally arrived at the school. At my locker, I put all of my completed homework away and got things ready for my first few classes. of the day. I like to prepare myself ahead of time. I carry my things for a few classes rather than going to my locker between each class. This lets me get to my next class without worrying about being late. It also allows time for emergency trips to the bathroom.
First class is orchestra. We'll get our positions today. I already know that I won't be close to first chair. The player's ability to learn and play music usually doesn't matter much in the first violins. Those who take private lessons always get the first chairs. I'm confident in my playing abilities, so I have no real worries, but it bugs me that this discrimination occurs. I walked into the room. The entire room is set up for us already. Each music stand holds a piece of paper with two names written on each one. I'm the only one in the room, so I scour the room for my name. I start at the concert master's chair. Of course, I know I'm not assigned this chair, but I want to see who's where. Aha...the first chair of the fourth stand has my name on it. My stand partner is a girl who I've gone to school with since kindergarten, so I'm not worried. I get my violin out.
One sort of forms a bond with their instrument. I've had this violin since I first started violin. It doesn't have all the special flaming on the back and sides, but it has a nice, warm tone. I knew the moment I picked the violin up that it was made for me. The chin rest conformed to my chin perfectly, as if the builder carved the wood exactly for me. The brazilwood bow was perfectly balanced in my right hand.
One day, I dropped my violin. I don't know how it happened. It was just a flash. One moment I was playing. The conductor motioned to stop playing, so I did. The violin was on the floor, the A string broken, the bridge laying off to the side, and the sound post was rattling around inside. The sound post carries vibrations from the bridge to the back of the instrument. It's not glued in, it's held between the top and back of the violin from the pressure the strings put on the instrument. If the sound post is moved just millimeters, the entire sound of the instrument is compromised. The sound post is often referred to as "the soul of the instrument." I just tore my instrument's soul down. In an instant. I cried. Not hysterical crying, but I teared up. It was embarrassing, but I just came close to ruining one of my very few friends. A trip to a luthier set the sound post, reset the bridge, and fixed the broken strings. I was lucky. The sound was not compromised. Gosh...that was close! What would I have done if it wasn't repairable? I feel ill...
Anyway...back in the orchestra room, I'm putting rosin on my bow. Rosin is tree resin. It's rubbed on the hairs of the bow so that the bow can grip the string, making it vibrate. I'm thinking. I wonder where Kyle is seated? I know I don't need to look at the organ console. I'm the only one who plays in this hell-hole town. I guess I forgot to mention that in my history lesson, but it's a minor detail I don't usually talk about. People are filing in, finding their places. Is Kyle going to come today? I want to know where he sits! This is killing me. About thirty seconds before the bell rings, I hear the door squeak open. The door's behind me, so I don't want to turn around and look too eager. Someone sits down behind me. My heart's beating really fast. Was it Kyle? Oh man...
"Hey," so smooth.. I turn around.
"Hey," I say to Kyle. I'm blushing. Damn.
"So I guess we're pretty close to each other. That's cool."
Is he blushing? What does that mean?
"Yeah!"
"So I guess I'm playing the organ. I didn't look, but Mr. Chance said I was playing it." What??
"Oh yeah? I usually play..."
"You play organ? You never said anything!"
"You didn't either!"
"Haha..well let's just look and see."
We walked over to the digital console in the orchestra room. There's a huge pipe organ in the auditorium, but it doesn't travel as well as the digital...haha. On the music rack, there's a piece of paper with two names.
"Sam Gruselle, Kyle Holster"
I didn't know how to feel. Excited to be sharing the instrument with the coolest person I know, or jealous that I have to share it. Mr. Chance usually only does one organ piece for each concert. Will he do two? Will we alternate each concert?
"Well..that solves it. I wonder how this is going to work," Kyle said with that cute smile.
We both went back to our seats in the violins and waited. When Mr. Chance finally got on the pedestal, he started handing out music. I finally got my folders. Each stand shares music and I got an organ folder as well. In it, were three pieces. Three? Two were familiar pieces I'd done before, but the other was different. "Concerto for Two Organs and Strings." I'd never heard of it. I look for the author. Tyler M. Chance. Mr. Chance's father. The music doesn't look too demanding. There are parts that are fast, parts that are slow. In some places, there are eight or nine measures of rest except for a pedal line, which looked kind of difficult. With the hands, you can play up to ten notes at a time, or use fingers that aren't playing to play the next note. With the pedals, you've only got two feet. There will be a lot of heel-to-toe work on this. I turned around to look at Kyle. His music is about the same.
"There's a lot of pedal work," he says, "I'm not used to playing with two feet at a time!"
"Yeah." I take a chance... "Maybe I could help you with some of it, if you want."
"Yeah! That'd be great," he said with that smile. Yes!
The rest of the day was somewhat slow. Kyle wasn't in Journalism, but I heard Ms. Seal say that he had already talked to her and wasn't going to be there. We just brainstormed about what we would feature for our first issue. Sports, media, news, weather, ads...and if you're wondering, I didn't get Ads Editor. Ah..next year, I suppose. Next week, we'd be running around town trying to solicit ads from local businesses.
After the bus ride home, I head straight for my organ. I finally begged my parents last year into buying me a digital theater organ. It has three manuals and a pedal board, and just about every stop you could imagine. To explain a stop, they choose different sounds an organ makes. Each stop makes a different sound on each manual. Naturally, the more stops you have selected, the louder the sound. Stops also control features such as vibrato and coupling, which connects two manuals together so that you can play stops from that manual along with stops on other manuals. It has speakers in the console, but also has four speakers placed throughout the dining room, where the console sits. I won't be receiving any birthday or Christmas gifts for five years, but it's definitely worth it! I took my socks and shoes off. It's really hard to play pedals with shoes on. You can get special organ shoes that have narrower toes and higher heels to make it easier to play, but I like to feel the pedals and wrap my toes around them. So the only pair of organ shoes are in my closet because I outgrew them when I was twelve.
"Organ Concerto for Two Organs and Strings" is twelve pages long. I get the music on the music rack and choose my stops. The beginning is very soft and soothing, but as the music goes on, it gets fuller and requires more stops. I got to the part where I'm playing the pedals only, but I can't concentrate on the music. My thoughts are on Kyle. That sweet smile. The smooth, enticing voice. Is this normal?