Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot!
What Ever Happened?
(Spring, 14 years old)
Schroeder stared blankly at the latest letter. Another prestigious musical academy had rejected him. His mother looked disappointed as he told her the news, while his father, oblivious as ever, merely grunted into the newspaper, uttering his favorite refrain.
"Should've thrown out that damn toy piano a long time ago."
Schroeder walked to his bedroom and unceremoniously dumped the letter into a desk drawer, where all the other rejections were kept. Then he moved purposefully to the closet containing his Beethoven busts and his beloved toy piano, where he had pinned up a sheet of paper with a list of all the schools he had applied to. He crossed out the second last name on the list. There was only one school left and any day now, Schroeder was expected another sterile rejection letter, telling him that the school appreciated that candidates worked very hard on their admissions pieces, but that there was limited admittance and unfortunately they had just felt that he wasn't right for their institution. He had read it all before – he almost had the standard template memorized by now. He wanted to shake all those admissions tutors by the neck and ask them just what exactly it was that had made him so unsuitable. He had practiced the piano for years, having traded up from his toy piano as soon as he realized that conquering his fear of it was essential in the process to becoming a great pianist. He'd even stopped practicing Beethoven only and had moved on to Chopin. After all, the Frederic Chopin International Piano Competition was how many world-famous pianists had first gained exposure and moved on to successful careers.
Twenty-six music prep schools and still nothing. Unbelievable.
Schroeder felt his fists clenching as he stared at the list. No, he reminded himself, I need to calm down. Practice makes perfect, so I just have to practice harder. I still have a lot of time to get into music school. He flexed his fingers and sat at his piano, and pounded out the beginning of Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, his favorite song to play when he was angry.
It was at this exact moment that the front door burst open, with Lucy flying in, her dark hair streaming behind her. She knew exactly what the song meant in terms of Schroeder's moods, and a quick glance at the cabinet door told her all she needed to know. She looked like she was about to say something comforting, but seemed to change her mind. Shaking her head, her lips curled up in a little smile, before she settled in her usual place. Lucy knew better than to interrupt the music when Schroeder was in one of his moods.
Nobody was quite sure why her intrusion into his beloved piano playing time had been tolerated, not even Schroeder himself. Maybe it was because she was as obstinate as a mule and had refused to leave, even after Schroeder whipped his little toy piano out from under her repeatedly. Over the years, Schroeder had gone from angry to indignant, to unresponsive and aloof, but none of these reactions had ever stopped Lucy – she was like a tornado, a force to be reckoned with and her persistence, even more legendary than her crabbiness. At times, he had even been bowled over by the level of her affections. He was unable to deny her, like the time she had brought him a cupcake for Beethoven's birthday. He remembered the moment he had shouted after her, to try and clear up the confusion – that it was really he who'd kissed her, not Snoopy. Later, he was glad that the dog had taken the blame; he was sure he'd never live down the embarrassment of her telling everyone that cold, detached Schroeder had finally fallen in love with her too. No, he would never be able to live it down.
He neared the end of the symphony and moved on to an old childhood favorite, Minuet in G. Lucy took this as the cue that he had calmed down from his previous anger, and, while tracing circles on the piano's glossy black surface, asked:
"Another one?"
Schroeder nodded, staring down at his fingers. An unnecessary move, since he knew the piece by heart, but it always reassured him to look down at the black and white keys, as he had always done as a child. Lucy sighed. Sometimes, Schroeder was just too petulant for his own good.
"I'm sure you'll get in one."
This made Schroeder pause. "There's only one left. I doubt it."
"You need to be more optimistic! Have you tried writing to them to see why they didn't take you?"
"They already rejected me! I know why too! Because I'm just not good enough!"
"But you are, Schroeder, you are!"
"I don't feel like having this conversation right now, Lucy." There was a sense of finality in his tone.
Lucy sighed again, "All right Schroeder." She stared into the piano, watching as the hammers moved to produce notes that reverberated in the silence.
There was a pause in the music. She looked up at the blonde boy expectantly. "And clean those damn fingerprints off my piano."
Frowning, she got up in search of the soft cloth that was kept in the cabinet reserved to remove any blemish on the black lacquer. She looked sad for a moment, when she saw the list of rejections, but squared her shoulders and marched back, throwing down the cloth on the floor next to Schroeder, before stepping on it. He stopped playing and looked down, his blank face never betraying any sense of puzzlement or bewilderment – he was utterly blasé. Lucy glared down at him.
"Here! Clean your piano with this! That's about all the respect you have for your beloved Beethoven and your music, isn't it? Why should I bother to polish the piano for someone who is willing to just accept that his dreams are over? You don't know why they rejected you Schroeder! It might not be because you haven't practiced enough! You practice like a robot everyday as it is! I've had it with your moping! That's all you've done ever since that first rejection! All you know is how to feel sorry for yourself because you're upset that the world doesn't recognize your talent! Well, maybe Schroeder, maybe you're just not that talented!"
Lucy stopped for breath, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
"Is that all you have to say?" He asked, quietly.
"You see? You can't even defend yourself-"
"GET OUT! NEVER COME BACK!" Schroeder shouted, banging his fists on the piano keys. "GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"
Lucy looked at him coldly, "Don't worry, I'm leaving." As she was about to step out of the front door, she turned back at him and said sadly,
"The Schroder I knew would never have hit his piano like that." With that, she closed the door quietly behind her.
Schroeder stared at his fists, still resting on the piano keys, for a very long time after she'd left.
AN: This came out more angsty than I thought it would. Angst is pretty inherent in Lucy/Schroeder fics, but I'll try and take this off the well-worn path. I've put the Peanuts gang in a modern-day setting, since technically the strip was still running until the '90s with the cast as children. The next chapter should be coming soon.
Please review!
