The Enchanted Song
I woke up to the sound of music buzzing in my ears.
When I pushed the curtains aside and peeked through the foggy window, the sun had just slightly risen over the horizon, turning the scenery into flashes of dull pink, white, and light green. A smile composed in my face as I pushed my blanket down, got out of bed, headed for the bathroom, and later changed into my usual clothes: a blue T-shirt that had the words MUSIC IS WHAT MAKES ME A PERSON printed on the front and a pair of faded blue jeans.
From where I was standing, I could clearly hear the loud music that was booming from downstairs, and my mind automatically flashed a picture of Clary, my bestfriend, perched on top of the living room table, belting out high notes of the songs she usually listens to every morning. I shook my head to get rid of the image. I was used to this morning routine of hers that I never question anymore the reason of her passion for playing loud music every early morning.
While doing my hair, my thoughts traveled and thought of the possibilities and adventures that might come out today. It was not an unusual day, though. Just like yesterday, I will be going later to the orphanage-slash-school I work for, The Melody Studio for Children. It's not an actual studio, just kind of like a cross of an orphanage and a music school for unfortunate kids. I serve there as one of the few junior music teachers, specifically the piano and voice, and am also the youngest among the staff, which is a pride. It was my fifth year at The Studio – what we usually call it. My best friend Clary Alter works with me there, too.
Once I was through with my hair, I start off quickly down the narrow stairs of the apartment I shared with Clary. Nearly three years ago, we decided to break things off at home and live independently with each other. That was also the time she finally decided to work at The Studio as a dance instructor.
At the base of the stairs I looked around for any sign of Clary but the room seemed to vibrate the hollow emptiness of a well except for the shriek, shrill, fierce kind of music that blasted from the built-in speakers. I could even neither tell whether the singer was a man or woman, let alone decipher a single word of the lyric.
Just when I was about to call out to her, Clary's voice, sharp and roaring, boomed from the kitchen, belting the high notes of the song. I rolled my eyes, let out a small laugh, and headed for the kitchen.
"She's dancing alone, I'm ready to go but she's so, Lost in stereo, lost in stereo ," she chanted schreechingly and I'm not even sure if I heard the words correctly.
I came inside the kitchen to find her, still in her PJs, on top of the counter, holding a half-peeled cucumber in her right hand. She was doing this weird, goofy dance, turning around in a small circle, her hands thrown up and jerking in the air, as if she was having a convulsion. She was intently consumed with her dance that she didn't acknowledge even for the tiniest sliver of a second my presence.
"Clary," I yelled over the noise.
Still, she continued dancing, and was also using the cucumber as a microphone when she began singing again.
"CLARY!" I shouted loudly that the houses on the next block could probably have heard it.
"I'm losing hope 'cause she's so, Lost in stereo, lost in stereo," the lyrics went on. Still, ignorance from her.
What music was this? I thought.
Letting out a deep sigh, I retreated and went to the outlet where the speaker was plugged in. I pulled it out and instantly the music cut off.
It was eerily quiet, I realized, after all that guitar riffs and hard drum beats and the piercing pitch of the music. But the quietness was soon shoved out of the window when a heartbeat later Clary's voice filled up the whole apartment.
"Hey! Is this a major blackout? Where is the music?" She angrily shouted , and later there was a loud thump on the floor.
"It was nearly the bridge! Damn, I even reached the highest pitches," she continued, grumbling.
I stood where I was, waiting for Clary to appear. She must not have noticed me.
Still muttering, she finally appeared and saw me with the speaker's plug held on my outstretched hand. It was hard trying to place a serious look on your face when the shocked expression of your friend just entertains you.
"Oh, Alyss. Hi," she chirrups, a little too cheerfully. "Didn't hear you coming."
"I doubt you would have heard me break in." I twirled the cord around my finger and simply gave her a blank look. :What was that about?"
"She replies nonchalantly, "What was what?" She scooted away from the kitchen door and collapsed on top of the sofa, fiddling the cucumber with her hands.
I threw cord away and moved to stand in front of her. "The music. Correction, the noise." She returned my blank look with the same vacant expression on her face. " Tne song you were blasting when I came down. The one that almost killed my eardrums."
"Oh. That."
"What? You just say 'Oh, that'?"
"Oh c'mon. What's wrong with listening to it?" she asked me, a smile forming on her beautiful features.
"You do not listen to that kind of irritating stuff!" I laughed at how the situation seemed serious so I collapsed beside Clary and inhaled a tranquil breath. "The only person you listen to is Justin Drew Beiber."
"Hey!" She picked up a cushion and threw it at me. "I do not freaking listen to Beiber. I would have to die if you force me to."
"s