Okay, I don't really like this, but I thought I would put it up anyway. Please critique it, and tell me if you think it's any good.
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The music came, sometimes, like a challenge thrust upon her. She worked to keep time with the metronome, relishing in every perfect note, every gently crescendo-ing scale, every emotion-filled chord. I watched her cringe when she lost rhythm, stumbling over the white field in an effort to find her place again, dodging black obstacles all the while. At points, to my amazement, she would close her eyes. She continued jumping over gaps with precision.
It dazzled me, the way she played. I was both jealous and captivated. She wouldn’t allow a silent audience much, but when she did, Mr. Decker and I listened. Yeah, her technical skills were great, but Hannah had something extra. Something that could make you watch her play for hours on end. The sound enveloped her. She leaned and arched with the music. Her eyebrows furrowed and rose.
The end of the song came with a startle. It took a moment for me to realize the song was over, and that Mr. Decker was clapping. Hannah leaned back and bowed her head, smiling into her knees.
“Very well done,” said Mr. Decker over his applause. He had an odd way of clapping. His hands seemed to flop together instead of moving deliberately.
“Still let the tempo slow in the middle. I always do that.” She shook her head a little and straightened her sheet music.
“Well, that can be fixed quite easily. All in all, fantastic work,” Decker cooed at Hannah, and she smiled and glanced at the clock. Decker followed her gaze.
“Ah, class time is over for today. I want you both to concentrate on dynamics this week, and I’ll see you both next week!”
We picked up our sheet music from the two pianos, and I opened the door, ushering her out with a sweep of my arm. She curtsied, laughing, and I followed her into the hall. Normally we would have run down the stairs at top speed, but today it was hotter than usual. Sweat had been sliding down our foreheads all afternoon, even with the windows in the Piano Room opened wide; apparently there was no breeze to greet them.
“Ugh. I keep slowing down on those tricky inclines,” said Hannah as we walked down the staircase. The sound of our steps echoed as we went, making little shadow-noises behind us.
“Well, that’s why they’re tricky.”
I caught Hannah eyeing me and I grinned. “You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”
“I just pray I don’t mess up when recital comes. Mom's whole family's always there, you know?”
“Hannah,” I said, trying to keep from laughing, “the recital isn’t for weeks. Besides, my grandma always says, “You know, you could be something if you practiced like that girl.”
Hannah laughed, but I was serious. Hannah was always the kid that everybody else’s parents held up as an example. That was half the reason I spent more time at her house than mine. The other half was that her mom could cook more than just Pizza Rolls and instant mashed potatoes.
When we reached the front door, I peered through the distorted glass window at the top. Nobody was here to pick us up yet.
We shifted our weight on our heels for a few moments before we could think of something to say.
“Hey, you wanna come to my birthday party this weekend?” she finally asked.
Her eyes were eager. I didn’t know if I would have a ride, but I said “yes” anyway.
"I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to wear."
I smiled. The thick, warm air was making me drowsy, and I couldn't stop staring at her.
"You'll look good in whatever you pick."
"Thanks."
We talked about her plans for a while longer. When she realized she was rambling, she stopped, stood on tip-toe, and spotted her car outside.
“Well,” she said, putting her hair behind her ears, “that’s my dad. I’ll call you later, okay, Jeremy?”
She ran out the door, barely waiting for my reply. I watched her jog out to the dusty minivan.
You know, I thought to myself, If I would pay more attention, and she’d just slow down a little, we could possibly have the deepest philosophical conversations ever known.
Or, she might get the hints.
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Ick. I really don't like this. Please give me any suggestions as to how I could fix it.
--Haley
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