Chapter Three: “Tip tap, dreams are raining”.
I was lying on my stomach, feet dangling in the air on the sleek white couch eating popcorn and watching a retarded movie about a retardo. I wasn’t in a mood to feel sympathy for a mentally challenged father; I was feeling too much pity for myself.
As I was climbing my way up, the doorbell rang. I picked up a baseball bat, hid it behind my back and peeped through the eyehole.
Don’t give me that look okay? I had enough prank stars knocking at my door to last me a lifetime.
Fortunately, this time it was my mother, and it was quite a surprise because it was hardly half past seven. I opened the door and greeted her as she came in, her face flustered, short blond curls dangling at her earlobe and gasping for breath.
“I’m in a hurry, darling,” she said, brushing her lips against my cheek.
“You’re home way too early, mom,” I said, giving her a glass of water.
“I’ve to go some where. Do you mind skipping school tomorrow? I’m sure there are no important classes on your second week,” she said.
“And miss giving my ‘best friends’ the time of their lives? Jeez, mom, are you kidding me?” I asked her sarcastically.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll survive,” mom laughed but I knew she was hurt. It didn’t matter. In this house, no one talked about pain or suffering. What condolence could you give, knowing there was no antidote to the pain?
“Why give me the sudden freedom of action?” I asked.
“I have a Cinderella ball to attend.”
“Is Nathan going to be there?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a very sexy daughter to spy on, and I don’t want to be distracted.”
“Ooooh, sounds fun,” I joked.
“Seriously Abbey, you need to practice speaking,” she said, pulling on her I’m-dead-serious-about-this-young-lady expression that never suited her. “How else do you expect to shine brighter?”
“Buying more tube lights?”
“Not funny.” She was right, it wasn’t funny. I seemed to have lost my sense of humor today.
“It’s Roxanne Sullivan’s party; a charity project.”
“Couldn’t have cared less.”
“She needs a young, talented pianist to keep her guests entertained.”
“Mom, I’m not going.”
“You’re the best we have in town.”
“I’m not going.”
“Consider this as your first stage. Your baby steps towards your dream,” she tried.
Well, when you put it like that…….
I glanced at the phone in the kitchen. It wasn’t going to ring. Not for me at least. So I turned to my mother and said, “Aren’t we a little late for something?”
* * *
“Where is your brother?” Ian asked the girl in the mirror.
“I don’t know,” Summer replied for the fifth time.
He’s been pacing the room for hours, that nervous wreck! Summer thought sourly, carefully applying mascara. She knew Ian as much as she knew her brother David. They had been the best of friends since the beginning of forever.
She watched as he fiddled with his tie and glanced at his watch. He hated dressing up fancy, but there was no escaping this time during her mother’s party.
“Will you just relax? It just a charity party for the homeless—
“Hunger relief actually,” Ian corrected.
“Whatever. This is just a lousy party that lets my mom pull out some cash from the money-pinching eggheads around here. You’re not donating your kidneys. You’re just here as a back up plan if our little music player doesn’t show up.”
“Wow. I am so flattered.” Ian rolled his eyes and Summer gave him an adoring smile.
“Why don’t you stop pacing around like a maniac and tell me how beautiful I look,” Summer suggested.
“I wouldn’t call that beautiful. It’s a heart-breakingly boring look. The same old you.”
“You mean drop dead gorgeous,” Summer translated. Ian smirked. He knew she wasn’t vain, but had a lot to be vain about. You didn’t often see her kind walking down the street without causing an accident. Especially not at her age.
“What’s it like?” Summer asked suddenly.
“Hmmm?”
“Your school. Tomorrow’s my first day. I could use some guidelines.”
“Avoid whatever’s special for lunch. The food sucks.”
“I was talking about the people.”
“I’m a sophomore, fyi.”
“Still, you must have some idea about the freshman batch.”
“They are pretty much like our batch: ruthless rebels and very playful. But they go overboard, if you ask me.”
“Sounds rough,” Summer muttered, too low for Ian to hear. But he understood any way.
“And the headlines say: Teen Queen gets chickened out by the high school mob!” He said teasingly, but in a gentle brotherly voice.
“You know I’m a more a bigger picture than just the Teen Queen image.”
“That you are, Sum.” He agreed.
The door opened and beautiful brown head popped in. “If you ladies are done with your makeup, mom’s calling you down,” David said with a smile.
“By the way bro,” He said patting Ian’s shoulder, “You should see the musical chick; she’s some thing to look at.”
“Let’s go,” Summer said, slipping her arm through her brother’s and not liking the way they talked about the girl. Typical men, they knew nothing.
* * *
The last thing Ian was thinking about was the girl who jumped put the window earlier that day. Yet, she must have been somewhere in his mind, because on the way downstairs, the thought of her being here came to his mind. He pushed the thought away, but he didn’t push the thought of her away, so, to say he was shocked to see her sitting in the private quarter under the dim lights would be an understatement. He didn’t let his face show what he was feeling inside, as he politely shook hands with both the girl and her mother. “Abigail,” Roxanne said, motioning to the girl, “is our little songbird here.”
“I promised you I’d bring some one young and talented to charm your screaming guests to silence, well, here she is,” Abbey’s mother said with obvious pride.
“Ian and David here play too,” Roxanne said.
“What do you play?” Abbey’s mother asked them.
“Guitar and keyboard,” Ian said.
“Drums and piano,” David said.
“What about you Summer?”
“I don’t play, I dance,” Summer said, smiling brilliantly.
“Well, it is half past eight,” Roxanne said.
“That’s your cue Abbey, are you ready?” Her mother asked her, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Abbey nodded. Ian could almost but hear her thought.
It was now or never.
“Proud. Unsocial. Intimidating…” Summer said under her breath, as if she was checking off a grocery list.
“What are you saying?” Ian asked.
“Personality configuration,” Summer said. David looked at Ian. There were a few things they agreed on, but Summer was one of them.
“Summer, you don’t even know her,” David pointed out.
“Do you?”
“I think you’re being jealous.”
“Why should I be jealous?”
“Because it looks like to me you have a healthy competition set up for you,” Ian put in, not liking the way Summer reacted about the girl, “She’s in our school.”
“Trust me, she’s not one of the glamour girls.”
David raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ian knew what he was thinking, and agreed with him. He very much doubted Abbey not being a part of the ‘in-crowd’. Sure, so what if she wasn’t nearly flawless as Summer, but she wasn’t the type you could ignore. She was striking.
Now that she wasn’t hiding behind the shadows, he could admire every detail on her face as he pleased. Soft, smooth skin a shade fairer than tan; wide almond-shaped grass green eyes that demanded your attention; a sharp and delicate nose; puckered lips that looked ready for a kiss; and finally a dimpled chin.
Best of all, no make up. Her face was as naturally pretty and sweet as rosebuds.
Of course, she had beautiful hair too. It wasn’t a flaming red, but just slightly darker than strawberry blonde, with streaks of gold, as if a ray of sunlight had gently stroked her hair and lost itself in the thick maze. It was straight from the top, and she had pulled it up in a ponytail—a simple style—but it gave her a classy look, what with her curly ends spilling down her shoulders.
And the frilly, violet dress she wore complimented every thing about her and made her look radiant.
No wonder Summer Sullivan, nature’s extraordinary and miraculous creation, was jealous.
Summer let out a breath and kept her focus on Abigail. There was definitely something not right about that Montez girl, no matter what David said, she thought. And Ian would just freak at her if she said another negative thing about Abbey.
That was exactly why she was trying to look for Abbey’s flaws. Ian was already hitting on her, and she had hunch, judging from Ian’s face, that Abbey was the girl he saw jumping out the window. If she guessed right, then Ian was more than impressed.
Typical teenage boy, Summer thought. He knew nothing about girls.
They watched as Abbey came near the piano. Nobody seemed to realize she was there, which was not odd or surprising. Abbey’s gaze washed over the crowd, fixed on the instrument and started playing.
It started softly, so softly that they had to strain their ears to hear it. Then it became a little louder, just a notch, and then a little more, till every one in the room stopped doing whatever they were doing and focused on her and her music.
When she was done, she received the awestruck audience with a small dimpled smile and before the applause was over, started another one, this one much sweeter, much livelier and very inspiring, enchanting every one into the room into a pleasant atmosphere. She kept on playing, and the loud chattering and clinking of glasses quieted to a soft hum in the background.
* * *
“Tip tap, dreams are raining.”
The words came from nowhere, but it was what this song was about. This was my first original composition, and it was about what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go. I wanted to play for a thousand people at Central Park in New York, and make Julliard proud. I wanted to see the tears of wonder in their eyes and feel the satisfaction of a dream come true.
The audience here tonight, that meant nothing. The stage, on which I was playing, meant nothing. The spotlight above my head meant nothing. In my mind, I was seeing a bigger crowd, a bigger stage and a brighter, single spotlight.
I finished my first composition and received every one with a modest smile. But I wasn’t seeing them or even hearing them. My body was here, but I was somewhere else. I was seeing bright colors, and I was hearing a ringing in my ears, like the pealing of church bells.
The next piece that I started was my favorite, and if my words were not stuck in my throat, then I would have been singing the song lyrics. The song was named “Maybe”, because it was song about my hopes.
Maybe a shooting star would fly
Across my starless sky,
Maybe I’ll make a wish,
And like the summer sun I’ll shine.
I don’t know,
I don’t really know,
But maybe, just maybe,
It would be all right.
I hope.
