REVIEWSS!:) (or should that say responses? *strokes mustache*)
Back in black: Thanks! LOve you for catching that:P
ChrystalineCD: Dude you rock! Thanks also for the encouragement, I did well:)
Cassidy Rose: Puppy Percy… *sneaky wink* The revolution has started. You're the sweetest, love you!
ANNABAE CHASE'S POV
He didn't notice me when he slammed the door open.
He didn't notice me when he stormed up to Paul, jawline tawt (and hot) and back tensed.
He didn't notice me when he placed his backpack stiffly, but gently on the very center of Paul's very messy desk, like a calm before a storm.
He didn't notice me when I stepped back and began to slowly walk/crawl to the door.
He didn't notice me when he said to Paul in the scariest voice I have ever heard, "What. Did. You. Do. To. Her."
He did notice when I backed into one of those conjoined desk, where the plastic chair with the two metal pins in it that long hair gets stuck in is connected to a wooden desk with a metal bar, and stumbled back, teetered on my heels, and then fell square on my butt.
I slid back a good five feet, because my bag threw me out of balance, the whole time repeatedly whispering, "oh gosh, oh gosh."
He whipped around in confusion, and his eyes darted around the room before they came to a rest on me. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
"Beth?"
I was gone before he could follow, but as I ducked into Mrs. Malona's empty classroom, a plastic plaque next to the door said her name along with the fact that she was an English teacher, I could hear Paul's being thrown open too.
Hurried footsteps, and then a "Damn it!"
He turned back after pacing for a couple of seconds, and returned to Mr. J-B classroom. He re exited in about thirty seconds, calling over his shoulder he could walk home, to not wait up, and he would deal with him later.
I stayed in her class for ten more minutes, my hands shaking. I had never seen Percy that mad before, he sounded hurt. Broken. Scared. And most of all, angry.
And who was "her." He said what did you do to her. Was it Percy's girlfriend, who got a D- in Mr. J-B's class? Did he even have a girlfriend? I knew that Drew Tanaka had been after him.
On Thursday, my first day of school, a beautiful girl had stared at me. On Friday, the day I met Sally, and Percy drove me to school for the first time, I learned about Drew. It was bound to happen. She owns this place. Literally, her mother sleeps with the principal.
So back on my previous note, was he mad for her? No. He isn't that petty, at least from what I know he is a steady person. He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would explode, especially about anything other than the things closest to his heart.
From what I could tell his mother was at the top of this list, and swimming and pizza came in close second.
And if it was about pizza, I would be seriously concerned for him. You know, the fact that he called it a her. So that leaves swimming and Sally. And Sally was the only her.
My heart pinged.
I met her once, but once was enough. She had enough life in her for one hundred people. I bet you she would do a cartwheel in a mall just to embarrass Percy.
And thinking of that, I bet Percy would just kiss her on the cheek, and laugh louder that any bystander. If Paul, no Mr. J-B did anything, anything at all to hurt Sally.
I didn't believe it though. Did they even know eachother?
And then it clicked and I feel like an idiot: Mr. JACKSON-Blofis. Jackson.
Is he Percy's father? Did Mr. J-B hurt his wife in some way?
My head spun, but I know this is none of my business, so I crack the door and step out into the hallway.
The air is different, I didn't notice it before. It's like the classroom and the hallway don't agree, the air is fighting.
In her classroom, the air was warm and thick, and seemed to be sluggishly drifting forward, but in the hallway, the air is thin and cool, and it's like someone is blowing softly on the back of my neck, sticky with sweat.
I walked, one foot in front of the other, focusing on the line between the tiles. They are colored like jawbreakers, white with blue, yellow, and red splatters. Before I know it, and before I knew where I was going, I reached the door to the music room.
It is beige with a rectangular window, reinforced with what looked like chicken wire, in almost every classroom window in the building. The once black handle is gold after being opened by so many hands.
I creak the door open and glance around, no one is here. I smile to myself a little bit, as I walk, as if on auto pilot to the wall covered completely in guitars.
The room is large, and the floor was probably meant for a choir, because a little past half way it begins to go up with steps in intervals of about four feet.
Dozens of plastic black chairs are turned at random angles from the teens in a hurry to get out of class. Music stands, some still with sheet music rest against the wall, and I can see one or two still in the sea of chairs.
I have to go all the way to the back of the room, to the utmost corner to reach the guitar I want.
I knew I wanted to play it when I first saw it, a white oak beautiful acoustic with a brown inlay. And that's not all, the inlay had a small, almost unnoticeable decoration, a leafy, flower plant that looked like lavender, and a small humming bird.
I run my bare hands over the wood, so smooth and durable, before lifting it off its hook and bring it down.
Now I am hurrying, through. Frederick's flannel, unbuttoned at the bottom, flutters in my haste. I walk to the closet and I maneuver inside, careful not the bang the guitar. I tug the door shut and pull of the string hanging from the ceiling.
A uncovered bulb lit, and the room was surprisingly well illuminated.
I came here Thursday, and Friday, so today stepping in here felt already familiar. I pulled the spare chair over to the side of the room and set my bag down next to me. And I begin to play.
I don't know what song, I just play.
I can't feel the strings, and I know they were just replaced, with care obviously. My fingers fly, picking and strumming against them. The sound is so beautiful.
I can say that it is almost better than my own, but I can't because nothing will ever replace her.
I begin to get lost, and before I know it, my phone begins to ping like a sonar. Lunch is over. Well, five minutes from being over.
I stop playing and realize I haven't eaten lunch. I'm not very hungry, so it's alright, a spare snack can't hurt anyways, Malcolm has football.
I stand and crack my back, sling my bag over my shoulder, and pick the guitar back up from against the wall that I rested it on. I am just about to open the door to the closet again when I pause, and my heart stops. I freeze and wait, but then it comes again confirming my fears, a soft tap from somewhere one the other side, behind the wall that I had been sitting against.
Hope you enjoyed! How have your weeks been? Good I hope:) Good night, and peace ya'll.
