Chapter One
Every day that I had a piano lesson the minutes would feel like hours. I couldn't wait to get out of a boring history or math class to get to piano. It was my favourite thing to do. I had lessons on Monday and Thursday nights for two hours. Most of Mr. Walters' students only had one lesson a week but he told me I was his most promising student and he wanted to catch me up on all the years I had missed.
I would take the bus to Mr. Walters' house after school and then take the bus back to Betsy's after.
Today was Monday, just like any other Monday except the days seemed to be going by even slower. I was in my last class of the day, Math. It had just started and we were supposed to be working on our homework. I had already finished mine the night before. I was writing a new piece of music that I wanted to show Mr. Walters that night. I had been working on it for awhile and I thought it was pretty good for my first piece.
"Class," my teacher got our attention. I looked up at her to see a small girl standing beside her. She had her head held high which made her look taller than she really was. Her hair was flaxen blond and her eyes a very clear blue that I could see from the back of the class.
My heart started pounding. Was that Carrie? She looked just like I remembered her. Well, what I assumed Carrie would look like now.
"This is Pamela Holden, she is new here to our school, please give welcome her," the teacher said. The class clapped halfheartedly and went back to their work. The teacher pointed to the desk right in front of me. Pamela came and sat down and a caught a whiff of her hair. It smelled like strawberries.
I knew somehow that she wasn't Carrie; it was just a coincidence that she looked like her. I was seeing a lot of reminders of my family lately. Every person with blond hair reminded me of one of them. When I saw a ballerina on television I thought of Cathy. It hurt to think of them so much. Sometimes I wished I could just move on and forget about them, but I knew that would never happen.
Even though I knew the new girl was not Carrie I still felt strangely drawn to her. Maybe it was because she looked so much like my sister. But I couldn't speak to her. She was too beautiful, too perfect. So far away from me.
The class seemed to go by a lot faster that day. I could smell Pamela's shampoo the entire time and even though I had piano after school I didn't want the class to end. Somehow just being near Pamela made me feel better. I could pretend that she was Carrie.
I made it to my piano lesson a little later. I had missed the first bus because I saw Pamela talking to some people near the gym. The cheerleaders. They were asking her to join the squad since she'd be easy to lift.
I was disappointed she would be joining the cheerleaders. That would mean she would be even further out of my reach. I was invisible to the cheerleaders and the jocks. I guess it was better than being one of the people they picked on.
"Good afternoon Cory," Mr. Walters said smiling. He was always in a good mood when I saw him. I had always liked him as a teacher. He was very good at playing the piano and he was patient enough to teach even beginners. He was an older man in his sixties; he had never been married. He said he traveled too much when he was young and never had enough time to settle down and find a wife.
"Hi Mr. Walters," I said back I went to the piano and took out the latest song I had been practicing. It was Piano concerto No.21 in C by Mozart. It was very difficult and I was having a little trouble with it.
I hadn't finished my own music because I hadn't been able to focus with the smell of Pamela's shampoo lingering around so I would have to work on it for Thursday.
I played the concerto for a while until Mr. Walters stopped me.
"Cory, it doesn't seem like you are really here today," he said.
I shrugged, "I guess I just have a lot on my mind," I told him apologetically. I hated disappointing him. I hated disappointing anyone. It was really starting to get stressful.
"That's alright, you can't be perfect everyday right?" he said. It was supposed to be a joke but I didn't smile. I just wasn't into playing the piano today.
"Maybe we should cancel the rest of today's lesson," Mr. Walters said getting up.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded, "Everyone needs a break, even a piano genius like yourself," he said smiling. I smiled back and told him goodbye. The bus ride home was long and boring. I watched the people climb on and off the bus looking tired and worn out.
When I got home Betsy already had supper on the table. Spaghetti. One of my favourites. It was almost like she knew when I was feeling down. My hallucinations involving food were now few and far between. I still had them once in awhile but they weren't as severe as they used to be. I would just take a few deep breaths and the visions would go away. I never told Betsy about them because I didn't want her to worry or regret taking me in.
"How was your lesson?" she asked when we sat down to eat. "Good, he let me out early," I said.
"I know, he called to let me know when you left," she said.
I smiled. Someone always knew where I was. One thing about living here with Betsy was that I had little or no privacy. I never lied to her, she knew everything about me but sometimes I wanted to have a little space to myself. I very much appreciated everything she had done for me but it seemed like she was always hovering around. But I would never have the heart to tell her that. It would break her heart. I was her whole world.
I decided to keep Pamela Holden a secret. I talked about finding my family so much; it made her sad. She thought I would leave her as soon as possible, which wasn't true at all. If she knew I liked a girl at school she would get protective and think I was going to leave her. She was very insecure. I thought maybe something had happened in her past. Maybe someone had left her before. Everyone had skeletons in the closet right? I know I did.
"I'm going to get started on my homework," I told Betsy when I was done eating.
"Okay dear, I'll be next door if you need any help, its bridge night," she said. She always played bridge with her friends on Monday nights. That was the only socializing she ever did. But who am I to judge? I didn't have any friends to begin with.
I really didn't have any homework. I rarely did. I finished it at school or on the bus. I would spend the night it my room working on my music or listening to one of the classical music records I had.
This was my life. School, piano, home. It had never affected me much before but seeing Pamela today make friends so quickly with the cheerleaders made me feel rejected. How come I didn't have friends like that?
I looked at myself in the mirror. My flaxen blond hair was a little long but still neat and clean. My blue eyes were clear and rimmed with long eyelashes. My cheekbones were defined as well as my jaw. My teeth were straight and white enough. I wasn't so bad looking. I looked like Chris and I remembered how Cathy would tell him how good looking he was. Daddy too.
Maybe I was just destined to experience life through my music. I was the observer, not the participant. I would have to admire Pamela from afar. Either that or grow a backbone in the next few days. Be like, Chris, I told myself. What would he do if he liked a girl? He would talk to her.
I could do that too.
Every day that I had a piano lesson the minutes would feel like hours. I couldn't wait to get out of a boring history or math class to get to piano. It was my favourite thing to do. I had lessons on Monday and Thursday nights for two hours. Most of Mr. Walters' students only had one lesson a week but he told me I was his most promising student and he wanted to catch me up on all the years I had missed.
I would take the bus to Mr. Walters' house after school and then take the bus back to Betsy's after.
Today was Monday, just like any other Monday except the days seemed to be going by even slower. I was in my last class of the day, Math. It had just started and we were supposed to be working on our homework. I had already finished mine the night before. I was writing a new piece of music that I wanted to show Mr. Walters that night. I had been working on it for awhile and I thought it was pretty good for my first piece.
"Class," my teacher got our attention. I looked up at her to see a small girl standing beside her. She had her head held high which made her look taller than she really was. Her hair was flaxen blond and her eyes a very clear blue that I could see from the back of the class.
My heart started pounding. Was that Carrie? She looked just like I remembered her. Well, what I assumed Carrie would look like now.
"This is Pamela Holden, she is new here to our school, please give welcome her," the teacher said. The class clapped halfheartedly and went back to their work. The teacher pointed to the desk right in front of me. Pamela came and sat down and a caught a whiff of her hair. It smelled like strawberries.
I knew somehow that she wasn't Carrie; it was just a coincidence that she looked like her. I was seeing a lot of reminders of my family lately. Every person with blond hair reminded me of one of them. When I saw a ballerina on television I thought of Cathy. It hurt to think of them so much. Sometimes I wished I could just move on and forget about them, but I knew that would never happen.
Even though I knew the new girl was not Carrie I still felt strangely drawn to her. Maybe it was because she looked so much like my sister. But I couldn't speak to her. She was too beautiful, too perfect. So far away from me.
The class seemed to go by a lot faster that day. I could smell Pamela's shampoo the entire time and even though I had piano after school I didn't want the class to end. Somehow just being near Pamela made me feel better. I could pretend that she was Carrie.
I made it to my piano lesson a little later. I had missed the first bus because I saw Pamela talking to some people near the gym. The cheerleaders. They were asking her to join the squad since she'd be easy to lift.
I was disappointed she would be joining the cheerleaders. That would mean she would be even further out of my reach. I was invisible to the cheerleaders and the jocks. I guess it was better than being one of the people they picked on.
"Good afternoon Cory," Mr. Walters said smiling. He was always in a good mood when I saw him. I had always liked him as a teacher. He was very good at playing the piano and he was patient enough to teach even beginners. He was an older man in his sixties; he had never been married. He said he traveled too much when he was young and never had enough time to settle down and find a wife.
"Hi Mr. Walters," I said back I went to the piano and took out the latest song I had been practicing. It was Piano concerto No.21 in C by Mozart. It was very difficult and I was having a little trouble with it.
I hadn't finished my own music because I hadn't been able to focus with the smell of Pamela's shampoo lingering around so I would have to work on it for Thursday.
I played the concerto for a while until Mr. Walters stopped me.
"Cory, it doesn't seem like you are really here today," he said.
I shrugged, "I guess I just have a lot on my mind," I told him apologetically. I hated disappointing him. I hated disappointing anyone. It was really starting to get stressful.
"That's alright, you can't be perfect everyday right?" he said. It was supposed to be a joke but I didn't smile. I just wasn't into playing the piano today.
"Maybe we should cancel the rest of today's lesson," Mr. Walters said getting up.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded, "Everyone needs a break, even a piano genius like yourself," he said smiling. I smiled back and told him goodbye. The bus ride home was long and boring. I watched the people climb on and off the bus looking tired and worn out.
When I got home Betsy already had supper on the table. Spaghetti. One of my favourites. It was almost like she knew when I was feeling down. My hallucinations involving food were now few and far between. I still had them once in awhile but they weren't as severe as they used to be. I would just take a few deep breaths and the visions would go away. I never told Betsy about them because I didn't want her to worry or regret taking me in.
"How was your lesson?" she asked when we sat down to eat. "Good, he let me out early," I said.
"I know, he called to let me know when you left," she said.
I smiled. Someone always knew where I was. One thing about living here with Betsy was that I had little or no privacy. I never lied to her, she knew everything about me but sometimes I wanted to have a little space to myself. I very much appreciated everything she had done for me but it seemed like she was always hovering around. But I would never have the heart to tell her that. It would break her heart. I was her whole world.
I decided to keep Pamela Holden a secret. I talked about finding my family so much; it made her sad. She thought I would leave her as soon as possible, which wasn't true at all. If she knew I liked a girl at school she would get protective and think I was going to leave her. She was very insecure. I thought maybe something had happened in her past. Maybe someone had left her before. Everyone had skeletons in the closet right? I know I did.
"I'm going to get started on my homework," I told Betsy when I was done eating.
"Okay dear, I'll be next door if you need any help, its bridge night," she said. She always played bridge with her friends on Monday nights. That was the only socializing she ever did. But who am I to judge? I didn't have any friends to begin with.
I really didn't have any homework. I rarely did. I finished it at school or on the bus. I would spend the night it my room working on my music or listening to one of the classical music records I had.
This was my life. School, piano, home. It had never affected me much before but seeing Pamela today make friends so quickly with the cheerleaders made me feel rejected. How come I didn't have friends like that?
I looked at myself in the mirror. My flaxen blond hair was a little long but still neat and clean. My blue eyes were clear and rimmed with long eyelashes. My cheekbones were defined as well as my jaw. My teeth were straight and white enough. I wasn't so bad looking. I looked like Chris and I remembered how Cathy would tell him how good looking he was. Daddy too.
Maybe I was just destined to experience life through my music. I was the observer, not the participant. I would have to admire Pamela from afar. Either that or grow a backbone in the next few days. Be like, Chris, I told myself. What would he do if he liked a girl? He would talk to her.
I could do that too.