Christine huffed to herself and rested her head atop her folded arms. She couldn't even believe she was thinking this, but…She was jealous of her siblings.

Both were very athletic and sport savvy. Tyler was a talented football player, and Haley, though still young, was an agile dancer. Christine herself had never been into those kinds of things. Her mother had offered various things before, and her father had really pushed sports on her. But Christine was never interested. She'd always liked to be left alone with her books. Reading had always been Christine's favorite pastime.

But now she felt useless and boring.

Within the next year, she'd be entering high school, and being a scholar for her age, one of the prestigious schools. A paradise for students, where every child was a prodigy. But for now…she was just Christine. A nine year old girl who felt she had no other talents besides the ability to finish an entire novel in the span of 48 hours.

She needed to do something worthwhile. Something that would put her at the same level as her siblings. Some kind of sport, or art…or even at music. But something…

XXX

"Mom, I want to be a gymnast."

Hilary raised an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder from where she stood at the oven, beginning to cook dinner for the family. Christine was standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking quite determined and stoic.

"Christine, you can't just become a gymnast, it's not that easy" Hilary reasoned. "Besides, you've never showed an interest in gymnastics before. Why all of a sudden?"

"Because gymnasts are like…the most amazing athletes ever!" Christine stressed, moving closer to her mother and resting against the side of the counter. "Have you ever seen the way they bend?"

"And can you bend that way?" Hilary asked with a smirk.

"Uh…I don't know…"

"I don't think we should find out," Hilary decided, picking up the spoon and stirring the water in the pot.

"But I have to do something!" Christine whined, earning a bewildered look from her mother.

"What do you mean you have to do something?" Hilary questioned.

"Well, Tyler has football, and Haley has dance," Christine elaborated. "I don't have anything."

"You've never been an athletic person," Hilary tried. "I always tried to get you into different things, but you wouldn't have any of it! You always liked to be left alone with your books and your artsy things. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, except now I feel like I haven't accomplished anything in my life," Christine groaned, sinking down further against the counter. "I'm just wasting away into nothing."

Hilary closed her eyes and shook her head. "Are you going through your midlife crisis? Because I'd really like it if you lived past the age of eighteen."

"It's not a midlife crisis," Christine refuted. "It's more of a realization, I guess."

"Christine, you don't need to play a sport to…complete yourself, or whatever nonsense it is you've come up with," Hilary reasoned. "There's nothing wrong with not being into those kinds of things! Just because Tyler loves sports and Haley loves dance doesn't mean you have to passionate about a sport. You loving reading, drawing, and writing is just as good!"

"Maybe it was, but not now that I'm older!" Christine stressed. "Now it's just a huge disappointment!"

"To who?"

"Everybody!"

"Well, you're not a disappointment to me," Hilary tried, hoping to ease Christine's mind.

"Great, one person," Christine grumbled. "And you're my mom."

"There's not much you can just pick up and start, Christine," Hilary sighed. "Do you want me to talk to Torrie? You could probably join the cheerleading team that her daughter is on."

"Ew, gross," Christine spat. "Cheerleaders are the worst."

"You said you wanted to pick up a sport!" Hilary hissed.

"Yeah, but not that sport," Christine scoffed. "I'd rather throw myself off a bridge than be some stupid, shallow cheerleader. No thank you."

"Oh, Christine," Hilary breathed.

"Well, do you blame me?" Christine cried. "I've met her friends! They're all brats!"

"Okay, I get it, you hate cheerleaders and would rather die than be one," Hilary droned.

"Thank you," Christine murmured, sounding rather relieved that her mother had finally gotten the point.

"Wanna learn kendo or any other martial arts? Grandpa could tutor you!''

"No…I don't want to rise up at four everyday!'' Christine drawled.

"So basically, what you're telling me is that you need something to be proud of, correct?" Hilary questioned. "Something that other people can actually watch you do?"

"Yeah," Christine replied. "After all, no one can watch me read a book. Well, I guess they could, but it would be pretty boring."

"Then maybe it doesn't necessarily have to be a sport," Hilary mused, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Sounds like you've got some kind of idea," Christine assisted, her eyes flickering with interest.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Hilary hummed. She picked up the cover and placed it over the pot, deciding to let the water simmer for a little while. "Follow me."

Christine blinked out of confusion, but wordlessly followed after her mother. She had no idea where they were going. Not a single clue. But Christine knew her mother almost always had her head on straight, so she wasn't necessarily nervous about it. Just very curious.

Hilary led her out the hallway, which certainly seemed strange. But still no questions. Not out loud, anyway. The mother and daughter duo walked upstairs, to the attic, and walked right through the front. Hilary continued leading Christine to the familiar staircase which led to the second floor of the house. Once they were up there, however, Hilary brought Christine to another staircase, one that the younger girl wasn't overly familiar with.

"What are we going up there for?" Christine asked. "We never go up there."

"That's where my idea is," Hilary giggled. "Come on!"

Hilary darted up the stairs, and Christine was hot on her trail. Going up the stairs led to the attic, which was a dark, musty room full of old junk that probably should have been thrown out, but was mercilessly saved due to nostalgia. Christine walked over towards one of the dust bathed windows and tapped the toe of her sneaker against a stack of boxes, trying to figure out what could possibly be stored inside of the cardboard cubes.

"Ah, here it is!"

Christine looked over her shoulder and spotted her mother standing in the far right corner, next to a large object covered by a grimy white sheet. She yanked off the fabric, coughing in the process as she was engulfed in a massive dust cloud. Once it faded away, however, Christine was finally able to see what had been hidden beneath the dirty sheet: a beautiful black piano which, thanks to the sheet that had been draped over, was sparkling and looked brand new, despite its obvious age.

"We have a piano?" Christine gasped.

"I kind of forgot about it," Hilary admitted sheepishly. "It's really old. My great grandma had bought it because she made all of her kids learn how to play it. I'm pretty sure my grandma was the only one who liked it. My mother learned from her and I learned from my mother. It was sure to mess around with.. (sigh) when I got married to your father, I bought it with me here, but with raising you three I never got the chance to play it.''

"That's so cool," Christine breathed, striding over to the instrument and carefully examining it with both her eyes and her fingertips. "But…how come you decided to show me this? What kind of an idea did you get?"

"Well, you've always been the artsy one in the family," Hilary explained. "You and I both know that well enough. And I think it's great! You don't need to be sporty like your brother and sister. But I know that sometimes, when it comes to being artsy, it's harder for people to appreciate your work than it is for them to see how hard Tyler and Haley work at sports and dance. So, I figured that if you learned how to play the piano, you would actually be able to show that off to people! No athletic ability required."

Christine silently contemplated this for a moment before walking over to the bench that sat behind the ivory and ebony keys of the piano. Sitting down, Christine pressed an experimental finger down on one of the long white keys and smiled gently when the sound rung through the air. She then moved her finger up and pressed the coordinating black key, which made a slightly different noise than the one before it.

"What do you think?" Hilary asked.

"I think it's a good idea…" Christine murmured, moving her hand down and pressing another key. "It might be a lot of fun! I've always wanted to play an instrument. And I guess once I get good enough, I can play it for everybody!"

"And they'd all be delighted to listen to you," Hilary agreed.

"Thanks, Mom!" Christine trilled, jumping up and wrapping her arms around her mother. "And thanks for saving my back, and my neck, and my head."

"What do you mean by that?" Hilary murmured.

"The whole kendo thing with Gramps," Christine deadpanned.

"Oh right, that," Hilary breathed. "Yeah, I never would have let you do that anyway. I believe in you no matter what, sweety, but I think that one might have been pushing it."