They say silence is golden... I find it a rather conflicting statement. A part of me cherishes each moment of that immaculate stillness in the air, even for a brief amount of time. Such moments don't come as often as they used to. I think about the different ways I can maintain that quiet space for as long as I need to. Or at least until I can take more of a beating from the noise.
Another part of me desires something else way different. A more energetic outlet to put it simply. If there's too much noise, make your own. And this was how music therapy began and thus my journey on a broken road to recovery.
These are moments of silence. Good silence.
The orange setting filters through, revealing the dancing dust flying here and there, only to be blown once again. The windows are opened, warm zephyrs graze my face and play with my auburn-lit hair. As I sit in the middle of the mahogany space formerly known as my room, I observe the stacks of cardboard boxes which contain many of the memories I've kept, both good and bad.
My name is Piper Wellington, and I am moving to Lark Creek, Virginia.
Ok, I know what you're thinking, this is a story about a whiny girl whose moving to some small town in the middle of nowhere and eventually finds herself, right? Wrong. Well, moving to a town in the middle of nowhere part is true. And it wasn't only me I found, I also found him.
The idea of moving to the country is a long story to begin with. After long talks late at night at the dinner table, the decision was made and the pin pointed location was set. Well, it goes further than that. In fact, it starts when I first started school.
As a child, I was what doctors called socially handicapped. Speech arrived late and direct eye contact was not evident. Kindergarten, first day, a new student, and the start of our academic careers. After a month or so, teachers began to notice the peculiar kid that played by herself on the swing. Not a word to anyone. No words were received. From elementary school on, things got worse. Schoolyard bullies seemed to favor me as their target. Then rumors started to circulate, many of them saying I was actually deaf or there was this freak accident when my mother was giving birth, that the baby's head fell off and the only way to save it was to cut out it's vocal chords. Of course, all of them were completely false. Every single one of them. However, I sometimes wished I was deaf so I wouldn't hear the murmurs and whispers whenever I walked by.
And then it started.
Third grade was the beginning of the cutting.
I wanted something, anything to take out my frustration on. No one at school, no one at home. There never is anyone. Ever. I began to wear these arm warmers to cover them up. I used whatever was at my disposal, kitchen knives, tools from the garage, even the sharp ends of some blinds. Then came fifth grade. An incident. To put it simply... I cut too deep and was found.
Of course I knew what I was doing. The emptiness was too much, life became a pointless black and white film played over and over with nothing on it. I soon started to hear voices. Voices commanding me to pick up the blade and cut, deeper and deeper, until the pain blocked them out.
I needed escape, I needed solace. The doctors said it was a miracle that I haven't lost much blood from the incident. My parents... especially my mother were working the water works. The first conversation I had with them when I came to. They said that they talked things over in the waiting room. They realized brevity of their time with me may have contributed to the already prominent problem with the lack of friends. They promised that they would try to make things better. Not only for me, but for everyone.
''We love you sweetie.''
Those words pierced me more than any of the knives I've cut myself with over the two years I've started. They really did care. They are good parents, why would I hurt myself knowing how much they loved me. For the first time in years, I felt loved and cared for. That closed the unnecessary gap between me and my parents and solved my problem at home. A week after, they enrolled me in a therapy program, this made sure that if I didn't have anyone to talk to when my parents weren't an option, I have someone outside at least.
It was the beginning of November, I was introduced to my new counselor. Her name was Ms. Edmunds.
I remember her vividly, her light-heartedness and outgoing attitude was infectious and I soon caught myself feeling more happier. Instead of actually talking, we did music therapy. Which in my opinion was the best thing created in the history of mankind. Everyday we met, we went to a large auditorium where we could vent out and sing and play as loud as we wanted. Then a hidden talent was brought to light.
Music. Not only I could play and sing well, I composed and wrote songs that actually had melody, unlike the noise the other kids listened to. My songs had meaning. Whenever I felt low, I'd close my eyes and play my heart out. Listening the beautiful chords and clever rhymes brought my mind to wander and explore these mysical lands. Each time it was different. My progress was slow but gradual.
It was a month later, December. Christmas was around the corner and my meetings with Ms. Edmunds were unyielding. Then I received news that nearly shattered me.
She took my hand and told me she was moving because of a job offer in another state. I remember breaking down and crying. I never felt so broken up about another person. Something that felt uncommon, especially with people like me. However, I accepted it and me and my family bid our farewells and teary goodbyes along with endless thanks. The last thing she said to me before she left was what propelled me through middle school.
''Piper... remember, whenever you're feeling sad or depressed, think of me and just sing. Hang in there kid, we'll see each other some day.''
So I took the statement to heart and did just that. Throughout middle school, the situation with others never improved, the bullying increased, the rumors however, dissipated like dust in the winds. Several pranks were pulled on me every now and then, but regardless, I played, when no one was around. I played and left my mind wide open. Obviously, my parents also noticed that I was focusing more on my music than actually attempting to make friends. Their awareness of the people at school intensified and, well, I couldn't help but agree with them that many, if not all the girls there were a word that started with a B.
End of eighth grade. My parents notified me of our moving to Lark Creek. I felt a sense of new beginning, being stuck with the less than favorable people at school just encouraged me to happily agree with my parents' plans. Maybe, just maybe I'll be able to make a friend.
Which brings me back to the present. Sitting here in the crux of my room with dusty boxes surrounding me. Basking in the warm summer breezes, under the soft light of the orange glow of the setting sun, and the flood of memories all bombarding me at once. I breathe in and slowly release the last breathe I will ever get in my chambers before we move. Far away, to seek out new beginnings in the hope of a better life.
...
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Summer flies by when your moving to another town in the process. Just yesterday, me and my family arrived in Lark Creek. It can be described as spacey and full of forests and farmland. Maybe this was why Mom and Dad picked this place, really quiet, away from noise, and plenty of room to sing.
Why must alarm clocks be so disturbing? I was in a content, deep sleep and to have it's hindering barks penetrate the closed space that sealed my subconscious, just completely destroys the morning already. I reach over and practically smack it.
''This is why I hate noise...''
During my usual morning routine, I added a twist to it a bit by actually examining myself in the mirror, checking for any smudges of toothpaste, or to change my hair style.
Wavy, Brunette hair tied in a bun with my rather long bangs almost covering my eyes. Large specs that did make me out as a nerd at first glance, which covered my big, mud-brown eyes. As I examined further, I noticed my fairly pale skin, probably from hours of staying inside. Today, I actually got out my arm- warmers that I used to cover up the cuts. Well, I still use them, but to cover the humongous scars from the incident three years ago. I don't cut anymore, I try not to, since Ms. Edmunds- no, since music came into my life, I found a better way to release my feelings. Doing something about it than doing something to yourself.
Buttoned-up light blue polo that extends to look almost like a skirt.
A fresh, baggy pair of jeans (NOT sagging, but easy to move in).
I've always liked clothes that are comfortable and spacey for me. Probably picked it up from Ms. Edmunds, but such unusual style of clothing has always been an interest of mine.
The first day at a new school, a new year, a new town, but the same old me.
...
High school. Enough to make you cringe a bit huh? Even for those who graduated, those memories are probably deeply engraved in their minds whether it be their so-called "Glory Days" or their dreaded "Dog Days". That has yet to be decided for me and the rest of the fourteen, fifteen year olds in Lark Creek. At least not yet.
My father drove me to through the plains undoubtedly drenched with dew and meadows that reflected the rising light of the sun in the early hours of the day. Most of the car ride was silent conversation. Mostly questions from my dad about if I needed anything, advice, extra materials, or other related stuff. I could tell from his tone that he was rather worried, yet happy. Knowing all my previous experiences and what it all led to was probably bound to unnerve him at some point, but in the end, fatherly love won and he decided to let most of my freedoms be accessible while keeping some minor check on my behavior when isolated.
I smiled, "Don't worry Dad, I'll try to find my way around.'' I wasn't exactly sure about that statement. I mean, yes, I'm a lot tougher than I was since middle school. I learned to be unresponsive to any teases and verbal abuse, as well as dealing with removing ketchup stains on my clothes when bullies just wanted to get some target practice in before proceeding on to moving targets, i.e. lower classmen. But nevertheless, this was a new school, in the country at that. Maybe things will be different, maybe the kids their aren't so rough. I hope.
Before I knew it, the car shifted into park and the school stood ominously above me. Lark Creek High. Not only a freshman, but the new girl. That was my status on the social hierarchy among teenage affairs in school.
"Hey Piper, can you go on by yourself?'' Dad's voice interrupted my train of thought.
I looked at him, taking a deep breathe and gave a reassuring nod " Like I said, I'll find my around."
As I got out of the car, I waved to my dad when he could see me. It felt as if it were the departing of the Titanic and I was bidding farewell to my parents before I set off to sea, never to return. Fortunately I knew I would return, seeing as the school day was only eight hours. A lot can happen in eight hours. I turn to look at the entrance and immediately become overwhelmed by the crowds of teenagers rushing back and forth, mingling with the other teenagers that scurried about in the same fashion. Front office. I think. Get to the front office.
Walking along the linoleum floors of the prison that was to be called my new school, I found the front office in a matter of seconds, hence the word front office. As I entered, I found the room to be void of any students, only teachers and staff coming in and out all the while enjoying early morning conversation with their fellow companions. The lady at the front desk immediately noticed me and quickly called me over.
"Can I help you?" A polite, yet professional tone.
"Ummm.. I'm the new transfer student, I was told to come here on my first day." I managed to squeak out with no faltering.
"Oh! You just moved here right? Then you must be..." She momentarily looked down as if to read something, "Piper Wellington?"
"Yes." Single word answer. Way to make a first impression.
"Ok, welcome to Lark Creek. I hope you and your family are getting settled in fine." She takes out a sheet of paper, "Here's your schedule for the rest of the semester, and if you need help with finding any of the rooms, don't hesitate to ask. "
She smiled as she said this. She's incredibly chipper even when it's the morning. Taking the schedule in my hands, I skim through it.
"Good morning everyone!"
Wait... I know that voice, that beautiful, loud voice that I haven't heard in three full years. It feels like the air just froze for a moment and my breathe begins to quicken. I turn, slowly, afraid of disappointment and take in the sight of someone I thought I would never see again.
"...Ms. Edmunds...?"
And so I find myself in this situation right now. It was past the first bell, the number of students subsequently decreased and it was just me and Ms. Edmunds walking to my homeroom.
Here's what happened at the office.
"...Ms. Edmunds...?"
Her sky blue eyes look up and meet with mine. Do I dare hope that she remembers that lonely little girl that she counseled almost three years ago? The possibilities ran through my mind; reviewing each one with great depth. I had already called out her name, if she didn't recognized me, some degree of awkwardness would be achieved on my part. I was hoping that she would remember me, someway somehow. So, maybe that I still held a special place in her heart.
"...Piper?" Her eyes lit up immediately, that spark of hope turned into a blazing burgundy, "Piper Wellington?"
I stepped toward her. Cautiously, yet firmly, as if the ground beneath us were about to break. I adjust my glasses and try to salvage a smile in the midst of hopefulness and sheer curiosity. I succeed, I meekly reply, "Yes. That's me..."
I was then enveloped in a massive bear hug that surprisingly, didn't cut off my breathing. I felt tears of joy form, I buried my head in her shoulder to stop the fall. Questions and compliments were, at this point, inevitable. Not that it's a bad thing. I truly was amazed by the fact that she now worked here, of all the places, and that we somehow meet again three years later. But in the end, none of that mattered. I was genuinely happy. There was someone out there that cared.
...
As we were walking, our steps echoed down the now empty hallways. Papers and applications in hand, Ms. Edmunds casually walked beside me. Like old days.
"You sure have grown." she smiled.
Still ecstatic about her presence here in Lark Creek, I was grinning like a fool.
"Yeah, I know. I guess that's the only thing that's changed." I say, which was true. I am the same girl since middle school. Just a bit taller. Dare I say... leaner? I never did get contacts. I found myself to be rather unique that I'm the only one who freely choses to wear glasses out of free will. Abiet, the others wear contacts, saying that glasses are annoying. I find my spectacles to be a comfort. Without them I feel exposed. They say people can see who you really are by looking deeply into their eyes. In my case, letting other people see the true me, the one who hears the voices and cuts to make them yield, isn't such a good sight.
"That's not true." She continues to walk, I follow in suit. "You look like you've been doing some hardcore musical expression over the years. I'm very proud of you."
She looks at me, with that stare that bores deep into my being, I can't help but feel enraptured by her gaze. "Also, you've grown into a beautiful young woman."
Me? Beautiful? That would be the last thing I would ever associate myself with. I've never had anyone tell me I was beautiful, at least anyone who weren't my parents. This would be one milestone in my life. I think.
As we continued walking, Ms. Edmunds told me about her becoming a music teacher for elementary schoolers and moving up a grade each year. Now that I'm here, she guaranteed that she'll continue to teach in Lark Creek. That conveyed some comfort.
"When we get to the classroom, I'm going to be the one to introduce you. You ok with that?"
If it involves me not speaking in front of everyone in front of the class, count me in.
"O-ok." Shoot. I faltered.
"Something a matter?" her voice dripping with concern, "Well, being the new girl in school as well as in town does put some level of stress on you. Trust me, when I first moved here, things took a while to click."
I simply nodded. She made things so much easier to understand. Even when she just repeats a complicated theorem word for word. As long as it comes out of her mouth, I'll understand it one-hundred percent.
"We're here."
We stop. My homeroom for the rest of the year. I wonder what the teacher will be like. And my classmates. Qualms begin to rise, I feel my throat immediately tighten. I clutch my bag for dear life. Then I feel a hand pat my shoulder, snapping me from my impending nightmare... or in this case, daymare.
"You'll be fine."
I hope I will.
...
"Hello class!" Ms Edmunds voice is immediately greeted by a classroom's worth of replies. The spirited responses quickly die down when I come into vision, right behind.
I turn to face the class. Great, they're all looking at me. Worse, it's quiet. The sound of the clock ticking is the only disturbance in the stillness in the air.
"Everyone, this is Piper Wellington. She and her family just moved in so please make her feel welcome in Lark Creek." Ms. Edmunds voice chimed in.
I observe each of the faces in the classroom. Obviously, they all must've been in the same class since grade school, seeing as this is a small town. In the front row, it mostly comprised of the so-called ''good girls'', with their supplies at the ready and hands neatly folded. It only seemed like there was only enough time for a quick scan. So I skipped to the back row. What surprised me was that all the seats were empty besides one. The one who occupied the seat momentarily looking at me as the rest of the class before going back to whatever he was working on.
Yes. It was a he who occupied the lone seat in the rear confines of the room.
"Seeing as this is homeroom, you can sit anywhere you want. There are plenty of seats in the back if you need." Ms. Edmunds pointed before moving on to her desk. She was my homeroom teacher? Sweet!!
I looked across the room. Well, the only seats that were open were at the back. I somehow managed to make my way to the back row without tripping on anyone's bag. As I spun around to sit myself down, I saw Ms. Edmunds looking at me. Giving her beautiful smile, then wink. I took this as a subtle way of wishing me luck for the rest of the day.
The seat was hard and not so pleasant on my backside. I managed to get myself comfortable and took a look around the room once again. It was as if to them I hadn't even come in. I got used to that feeling long ago.
I turn only to find that my new neighbor was the only person, besides me, to be seated in the back row. I further observe him.
Brown hair, just like mine, but it seems to be brighter in the light. He also had these brown mirrors for eyes. For some unknown reason I was rather repelled, yet drawn in to him at the same time. Unknowingly, I begin to lean sideways just more than I should. I took a glimpse of his desk. A sketchbook, a pencil case filled to the brim with who knows what , and a razor. I involuntarily shivered at the sight of it. But he probably used it to sharpen his pencil. With all the wood shavings and whatnot.
Now I can smell him. Like the fields of wheat and a faint trace of sweat. I don't know if it's the teenage hormones or my outlandish interests, but I reveled in it. My eyes were shut by this time, I somehow felt his warmth emanating off him, either that or the sunlight was on my face. Now I can hear his breathing, steady and barely audible. Wait.
I snap open my eyes and suddenly find each pint of blood in my body was rushing feverishly to my face. The boy was now looking at me straight in the eye with an expression that gave off pure awkwardness. Or was it emotionlessness? I look down to see that I had almost my entire upper body leaned over the side of my desk, overlooking his. Invading his personal space.
I look back at him again, still wearing that same expression. We were at a rather uncomfortable proximity toward each other. I look down briefly only to further observe the contents of his desk. A sketchbook. What was on the page was a flash of yellow, or more of a blonde color. That was all I could see before he shut it in my face. Feeling the wind induced by the flap, I felt just exactly how much my body temperature rose.
Now, I needed something, anything to distract him from my previous actions. I found my self digging deeply into my pockets until I felt something flat and pliable.
I immediately grabbed hold of it and literally yanked it out and held it in the air towards him.
I smile a weak, mostly pathetic smile, " Gum? "
Just then, all my tension was released when the loud clattering of the bell resounded in the halls. Never before I had been so relieved by the sound of the first bell calling the students to the first class of the day.
Then the class came to life, every student standing up from their seats with loud grinds that didn't seem to spare the floor any mercy. I slowly receded back to my desk. Back into my shame and embarrassment, to the safe confines of my hard desk. The brunette turned his head and starting packing as if the strange event hadn't even happened. Am I that pathetic, weird, even the subject of resentment?
I meekly picked up my bag and slowly made my way out. I glanced back at Ms. Edmunds. Had she seen the whole scene? I ran the possibilities through my head. She then signaled for me to come over, with a face of amusement. Oh yeah, she definitely saw.
I went over, dragging my feet along. One more step and I would have been out of that room with him in it. I noticed that as I walked over, Ms. Edmunds watching him as he was finishing packing up. She didn't speak to me until he was clear of the room, which was a major comfort.
She then turned to me, "I'm sorry if he scared you in any way."
By now, the blood flow finally regulated as I began to settle into my comfort zone. One on one talks with Ms. Edmunds. Perfect.
"Well, I'm concerned if I scared him instead." To tell the truth I wasn't even conscious of my actions until I opened my eyes. The rest was impulse.
"Yeah, we're gonna work on that." she smiled. "That boy has his reasons for being the way he is..."
She seemed to trail off. Well, she was a counselor, no doubt that she talked to some of the kids here about their problems. Then again, she doesn't reveal any personal information to other people. Why is she talking to me about him. I'm probably not even an option for someone to confess their problems to.
"Just don't let that unnerve you, he's a good kid." she smiled again. This gave some reassurance. I hope he doesn't mark me down on his "to make miserable" list or something. I didn't freak him out or anything, right?
Then I smiled in tandem. Maybe I'll get another chance at talking to him. Hopefully I'll be able to clear up the fog of the incident.
"By the way, Ms. Edmunds. What is his name?" I asked spontaneously.
She seemed to have her mind far off. She must have really connected with him. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy in the back of my head.
"Jesse." She finally replied. " Jesse Aarons. "