I must be getting obssessive. But it's not like I'm doing anyone any harm. Maybe I'm just being an adoring fan of fine musical talent. Hah.
Every day after that, I'd head for the auditorium, that is, only if it was empty. Because then I knew Ephram might go there to play at the piano secretly, or so he thought. It was like an after-school ritual. Bell rings, I'd pack up, head to the auditorium to peek in, and if it was empty, I'd go in through the backstage doors just in case Ephram was already inside. Usually I was the one in first, though. Sometimes Ephram didn't even come in to play, but I didn't mind. The auditorium was like my own Secret Hiding Place. It was ours, actually. Just that he wasn't aware that I shared it with him sometimes.
Alright, so maybe you all think I'm turning a wee bit crazy. But Ephram's the one who talks to himself. Yeah, he does. But I guess it's only because he thinks he's alone. Usually he's talking to his Mom. Sometimes even, I feel like he's talking to me. Then it'd take all I have not to reply with something, because I know he isn't really talking to me; he doesn't even know I exist.
Today Ephram came in earlier than I did. Amy came in the other day, and they talked and somewhat repaired their friendship. Those times I feel so terrible for being there, listening to them in the dark. But it's not my fault! If I had it my way, I wouldn't even want to listen to the two of them talking. But I guess it's made me understand their relationship more, and now I have a certain respect for it that I guess I didn't have before.
Anyway, Ephram's playing a piece now. I've heard it before. I'm not terribly good at recognising pieces, but I think it's the Moonlight Sonata. My cousin played it before at a family gathering. I wonder why Ephram plays so many sad pieces. I guess it's because he only comes in here when he's feeling down. Wow. That's very often then.
I've created a sort of comfortable cubby-area for myself. I'm eating the sandwich that I'd packed for myself for lunch but didn't eat because I hadn't gone for it.
Yeap, you can tell what a routine this has become for me.
Actually, the lives of Ephram and me are quite similar. Just that Ephram's Dad decided to move their entire family from exciting, big New York City to tiny, stale Everwood. That's one part I don't get.
But when Ephram starts talking to his Mom, I know exactly how he feels. Exactly how he misses her. I used to talk to my own Mom like that too, after she died. She and Dad had lived in Everwood all their lives, and then a few years ago, Mom had died of Lymphoma, some cancer I hadn't even heard of until she'd contracted it. Ignorance is bliss, I guess. Anyway, I came across Mom's diary afterwards, and it was full of dreams of travel and adventure; things that she hadn't done. And she'd died. It was too late for her now. Right then, my heart had turned cold. I realised that death was unexpected. Really realised. I didn't want to end up like my parents, like Mom. I was going to see the world. This scholarship was my ticket to bigger things, a bigger future. And I was sure as heck not going to blow it.
Maybe that's why I've brought some textbooks along to read?
Hana was sitting cross-legged on the dusty, wooden floor of the auditorium, a sandwich in one hand and a tiny flashlight in another. Piles of books were strewn about her, and she was reading one particularly thick-looking one with the flashlight as she chewed, her hair hanging past her shoulders in two thick brown braids.
Not five feet from where she sat, Ephram was at the piano, lost in his own world. His fingers played over the keys with such familiarity that one would think that he would be able to play with his eyes closed. They were however, wide open, burning with an intensity for the music.
Even if Hana's flashlight had been brighter, he wouldn't have noticed it.
But then, something happened.