Young Writers Society

“No.” I said, grabbing onto Alden’s arm. “This isn’t happening. Can this even happen? I’ve never heard of a kid transferring in in the middle of the year.”

“I know.” Alden whispered back. The guy straightened up from his position in front of the teacher, Mrs. Curr, and made his way slowly to the only open seat in the room, which, of course, was the one right next to me.

Up close, he was a lot taller, a lot blonder, and a lot prettier than I had thought when I saw him on the pier. He had a long nose and really pretty, really bright green eyes. As far as I could tell, the only flaw on his face was a scar on his upper lip, possibly from a surgery to fix a cleft palate.

He smiled at me, the right corner of his mouth pulling up just a little farther than the left. It was enough to make any girl swoon, but for some reason, it just made me nervous. “Hey.”

“Uh. . .”

“HI!” Alden said loudly, pinching the back of my neck. “This is Lake, and I’m Alden.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet y’all. I’m Max” He said, holding out a hand, which I shook. His fingers were long and thin, and I could see his tendons standing out underneath the skin. Definitely a piano player.

Somehow, his accent made him seem more real. He might have been this gorgeous human specimen, but at least he was from a place on Earth, and not some faraway alien planet where they create supermodels.

I found myself smiling back at him. “Nice to meet you.”

As Max did his best to tuck his long legs underneath his desk, a blue folder slipped off his desk. He moved to catch it, but he wasn’t fast enough, and several pages of sheet music slid across the floor. I reached down and picked up the one closest to my foot.

“Goldberg Variations. Interesting.”

Max’s head snapped up, and his eyes seemed to almost get brighter. “You know Bach?”

I shrugged. “Some. Enough to know the greatest hits.”

He laughed. “Yeah. He’s a good choice. I like Bach, but I’m more of a Debussy fan, you know?”

“Max and Lake,” Mrs. Curr said in a stern voice. “I realize that the life and times of Mark Twain are not incredibly exciting, but, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to both try to grin and bare it.”

I turned forward, my cheeks burning red. Ten minutes later, when I glanced back at Max, he was still grinning.

“I canNOT believe you!” Alden squealed at me as we settled into our table at the front of the art room.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come ON!” He said, rolling his eyes. “Six foot, three inches of pure, unadulterated hunk sits himself right beside you, and all you can come up with is ‘Goldberg Variations’?”

I shrugged as I set up my table easel. “I like Bach.”

“Bach is not what you talk about when you’re trying to pick up guys.”

I groaned. “Maybe I’m not trying to pick him up. Maybe I’m a lesbian.”

“You’re not a lesbian.”

“You don’t know.”

“Oh, I know.”

I rolled my eyes, something I did a lot when I was around Alden, but kept my mouth shut as I finished setting up my station. Art, and more specifically painting, was something that was incredibly therapeutic for me. I loved the way the brushes fit in my hands and the nearly-silent whisper noise the bristles made when they came in contact with canvas. Painting was a way for me to let go of all of the heaviness of life.

As if my hand was working on my own, black lines started appearing on my page. I wasn’t sure what I was painting. It was possible that I wouldn’t know until it was almost finished. That was the thing about art; it was everything you could get away with.

“Lake. Lake! Hellooo, Earth to Lake!”

Alden’s hand on my back was like a splash of cold water. I looked up at my painting and groaned. Being startled had made me drag the red of a farmhouse across a green field. I set it aside, knowing that I would have to deal with it later. Once I started a painting, I never left it unfinished.

My music class was one of the only classes that I didn’t have with Alden, and as we parted in the hall, he overdramatically hugged me goodbye, as if we would never see each other again.

“Be safe, my beautiful water formation. I love you so.”

I laughed as he disappeared into the choir room. I wasn’t alone for long, though, because the one-and-only Max Avery appeared just as I was about to open the door to my music class, Advanced Piano.

“Hey, Lake!” He said, grinning from ear to ear. “Are you in Advanced Piano, too?”

“Yeah.” I laughed, feeling a little awkward. I wasn’t actually very good at piano, and it freaked me out that he was going to be able to hear me play. “I had to take a music class, so I chose piano.”

“So I guess this is why you know Goldberg Variations.”

I held up my own green folder. “I’ve been working on the same piece for a couple of months.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, the vengeful snake that was Victoria Platt looped an arm through his. “Hey, Maxy.”

He smiled at her, and I could feel my skin crawl. “Hey, Vicki.”

“You should totally sit with me in this class.” She said, twisting one of her brunette curls around her finger.

His smile faltered. “Um, actually, I was planning on sitting with Lake.”

Victoria, as if suddenly noticing me for the first time, looked me over with cold, grey eyes. “I’m sure that Blake wouldn’t mind.”

I didn’t know where my confidence came from, but it just kind of exploded out of me. “It’s ‘LAKE’, and I actually do mind.” I grabbed Max’s hand, ignoring the electrical charge that seemed to run between us, and pulled him into the room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

I'm kind of sorry for this chapter. I have the big plot points planned out, but I'm struggling to get through the middle parts.