Chapter One
Mixson's Music was a sprawling shop that seemed to carry everything. Although it was connected to the mall, Terrence had only been there once, and that was to pick up a replacement cable for his electric guitar, as the one it had come with was worn and Mom had feared it might cause a short. During that single visit Terrence hadn't done much other than go in, find the cable, and leave.
Now he looked around as he, Mom, and Mac entered. It really was a big place; the walls were covered with guitars and saxophones and violins and instruments from around the world Terrence couldn't even identify. On display were drum sets and keyboards and racks of books and cds and sheet music, and in between it all were more instruments and accessories.
Mom touched Terrence on the shoulder. "Why don't you boys look around while I speak to someone about rentals?" she suggested, and both of her children nodded. As she walked off, Mac headed towards an upright piano and climbed onto the bench. Rolling his eyes when Mac began happily pounding out random notes, Terrence gravitated towards the electric guitars. He was boredly meandering his way between the guitars on their upright stands when he saw It, and he stood, gaping in shock.
An electric cello. They made electric cellos?
Terrence walked up to it slowly, reverently. Red and gleaming, it stood poised in its acrylic case as if it were the monarch of all the lowly guitars surrounding it, too regal to bear being exposed to dust, curious fingers, or even the same air breathed by common humans. A small, polite-looking sign on the case declared: Please Do Not Touch. Ask For Assistance.
A freaking electric cello. There was a God.
"That's the old model," a female voice suddenly spoke up beside Terrence's ear, and he jumped about a foot. The female voice was joined by a male one in amused laughter, and he turned around to come face-to face with a girl about his own age with a brightly colored crested bird - an imaginary friend - on her shoulder. The girl wore an immaculate green plaid jumper over a white blouse, with white stockings and black patent leather shoes. A green plaid headband atop her fastidiously groomed shoulder-length blonde hair completed the ensemble, and she clutched a blue folder in one hand. The bird was about the size of a large cockatoo and was feathered in all the colors of the rainbow. The girl and the bird stopped laughing at the same time to eye Terrence critically.
"I, of course, have the newest model," the girl went on evenly, her green eyes locked on Terrence's brown ones. "Mine's white." She stared him down for a few more seconds, and he shrunk back a bit. She was creepy, and so was the bird.
"Um...oh," he managed at last. He began edging away, but the girl stepped towards him. "You don't play, do you?" she asked, mocking amusement showing on her face while the bird grinned, as only an imaginary bird can.
"Do you?" echoed the bird in the same condescending tone.
"Sure he does." Mac, who had overheard, stepped up to the trio. "Well, I mean," he amended, "he plays the cello. Not like that one," he gestured at the acrylic case, "the regular kind." He smiled at the girl, assuming that anyone her age who still had her imaginary friend would be nice to meet. "You go to Tillman!" he exclaimed suddenly before Terrence could tell him to get lost, pointing at the blue folder in the girl's hand - it bore the Tillman logo. "My brother is going to audition!"
"Mac!" hissed Terrence. "Shut up! Go away!"
The girl raised an eyebrow and the bird mimicked her expression. "Oh really?" she commented, looking from Mac back to Terrence with feigned indifference. "Ninth grade?"
Terrence figured he'd better say something. So he said, "Yeah, so?" in a very snappy way, because the girl and her creepy bird were starting to really get on his nerves.
"I'm going into the ninth grade," the girl went on snippily, putting her free hand on her hip. "I'm going to get top ninth chair. I've always had the highest chair for my year. I've been playing the cello since I was five. I've trained in Paris. I was invited to audition in the seventh grade by Charles Tillman himself."
Mac, who had quickly decided he didn't like this girl after all, blurted, "Well Terrence has only been playing for six weeks and he was invited to audition by Mister Chesline!"
"Shut up!" cried Terrence, too late, backhanding Mac across the head.
The girl and the bird blinked at the brothers for a moment, glanced at each other, and then erupted into a violent fit of laughter.
"Ow!" complained Mac, rubbing his head. "What'd you do that for?"
"You're making me look stupid!" Terrence growled at him, grabbing Mac by the arm to haul him away before things got any worse.
But it was about as bad as it was going to get already. "Look stupid!" repeated the bird gleefully, bobbing his head, his crest erect. "Stupid stupid stupid!"
At that Terrence dropped Mac's arm and charged up to the girl. "Hey, shut up, bird!" he snarled at the imaginary friend, jabbing him in the beak with one finger and waving his other hand, clenched into a fist, over his own head. "Unless you want to wind up as imaginary stew!"
"Ew." The girl took a step back, swatting Terrence's hand away as though it were infectious. "Don't touch Adagio, you caveman, you'll give him parasites."
"Parasites," repeated Adagio smugly.
"Hey!" shouted Mac defensively. "Terrence doesn't have parasites!"
"He has you," retorted the girl.
"The only one I see here with parasites is you, Fae," said another girl, wandering up. Terrence and Mac stopped glaring at the first girl and her imaginary friend long enough to blink at the newcomer in surprise. This second girl looked remarkably like the first girl, only she wore a t-shirt and ripped-up jeans and paint-spattered sneakers, and her chin-length hair was dyed a brilliant magenta. When she spoke, her voice was deeply slurred, as she seemed to have a speech impediment. "You really ought to do something about that outbreak on your shoulder," the magenta-haired girl went on, pointing at Adagio. "I think his ugly is spreading to your face."
Terrence and Mac snorted.
Fae scowled darkly. "Shut up, Reese!" she snapped as Adagio clicked his beak angrily. "Nobody asked you!"
"Nobody asked you!" repeated the bird.
"Come along, Adagio," huffed Fae, turning on her heel. "Let's go see if Mama is finished speaking to Mister Mixson yet." She put emphasis on the second syllable of "Mama," using what sounded like a French accent.
"Finished speaking," repeated Adagio, then he stuck out his tongue at Mac, who stuck his own tongue out right back. Fae flounced off, Reese watching her go.
"Is that your sister?" Mac, done with his razzing, stepped up behind the girl. When she didn't respond he arced an eyebrow and cleared his throat. "Um...Reese?" he said, waving a hand to get her attention. "Hello?"
Terrence frowned and stepped in front of Reese. "Hey, my brother's talking to you," he said, a tad offended by the girl's manners. Reese looked round at Mac then.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see you back there. I'm deaf," she went on before anyone could ask if she had at least heard him. "I read lips though. I have to see you talk."
"Really?" asked Mac, interested. It explained the way she slurred her words. "Hey, that's cool! Um...reading lips, I mean."
Terrence walked around Reese to stand beside Mac. "I thought people only did that in spy movies," he remarked dubiously.
"They do," replied Reese earnestly, widening her eyes in mock sincerity. "I'm the only person in the world who can actually do it for real." Mac grinned at the joke but at Terrence's expression of awed disbelief the girl burst out laughing, exposing a set of braces with multicolored bands. "I'm kidding, silly," she told the older boy, who reddened a little at his mistake. "Cool necklace," she said suddenly, jabbing a finger at Terrence's nut-and-bolt necklace.
"Oh," he said, and fished for a return compliment. "Rad hair."
"Thanks."
"Hey, cool shirt!" Terrence blurted, noticing Reese's WWWF t-shirt for the first time.
"Thanks. I got it when Professor Panic was in town last year."
Terrence's eyes bugged. "Awesome!" he cried. "I so wanted to see that but I was grounded."
Reese shrugged at him. "Well there's that wrestling mini-con down at the other end of the mall all weekend. I was headed over there. Wanna come?"
Terrence brightened but then his face fell. "Aw, I can't," he pouted. "I'm, er...grounded."
But Reese laughed. "Someone's an overachiever," she remarked.
Mac glanced back and forth between the two teens. This was kind of cute. Getting an idea, he slipped away unnoticed.
"So," said Terrence, changing the subject. He nodded over at Fae and Adagio, who were lingering boredly at the front counter. "You know Fartface and the Bird Wonder?"
"Ugh." Reese shrugged. "My twin sister and her stupid imaginary friend."
"Woah. You guys are twins? I feel for ya. Yeah, imaginary friends are stupid," replied Terrence, rolling his eyes.
Reese rolled her eyes right back. "Yeah," she said. "Fae's being extra annoying this week because Mama - " (she also pronounced this with a French accent) - "is buying her some expensive new cello from Germany or someplace. We're supposed to pick it up today. Oh - there it is."
Terrence looked. Fae had been joined at the counter by a well-dressed lady and a man in shirtsleeves (this was Mr. Mixson). Fae was admiring a gorgeous cello stained and finished a deep midnight blue. Terrence's jaw dropped. "Woah!" he gasped, hurrying over despite his dislike of Fae. "That is wicked awesome!"
"It is indeed, son," smiled Mr. Mixson proudly. "Special order, just got her in from Germany. Would you like to see - "
"No touching," snapped the lady in a heavy French accent, physically yanking Terrence away from the cello when he reached out to feel its glassy surface. "Very, very expensive," she went on, waggling a finger in the boy's face as if he were a naughty Pomeranian caught in the act of befouling the carpet.
Fae pulled the cello towards herself and both she and Adagio gave Terrence the dirtiest of looks. "Thank you, Mama," she simpered. "That boy almost soiled your present."
Terrence opened his mouth to say something unrepeatable to her when Mom suddenly walked out of the back room, carrying what was obviously a well-used, quite ordinary cello. Mac was with her. "Terrence, good news," she smiled at him. "Mrs. Mixson gave me quite a deal on the rental. They offered me an extra ten percent off of the ordinary student rates because it's your first audition. Wasn't that nice?"
Fae and Adagio laughed loudly, the twins' mother made a face as if Terrence reeked of garbage, and Terrence gaped at his mother in mortification. "Mooo-ooomm!" he whined.
"What? What's the matter?" asked Mom innocently.
"Is...your...child auditioning for Tillman?" the twins' mother asked Mom slowly.
"Yes," beamed Mom proudly. "His summer school teacher said he had potential."
Terrence covered his face with both hands and prayed the oceans would engulf the Earth at that moment. Reese, hovering at his left elbow, sighed.
"Summer school," repeated the girls' mother dryly. "How...nice."
"I'm Janet," Mom went on cheerfully. "Janet Vaughn. There are my sons, Terrence and Mac."
"Madame Gwenaela Violette Bourdoumine d'Etienne, of the Paris d'Etiennes," replied the woman icily. "My daughters Fae and Cerise. They both go to Tillman of course," Madame d'Etienne added before Mom could say hello to them. "Fae has been first chair cellist in her class for two years, and Cerise has taken first place in nearly - " here she shot Reese a brief look of disapproval - "every art show she has entered at Tillman."
"D'Etienne," said Mom thoughtfully. "... Reynaud d'Etienne?" she queried.
Madame d'Etienne raised a thin eyebrow. "Is my husband," she supplied.
"Yes," nodded Mom. "Yes he is one of our clients." She smiled. "I work at World Title Insurance."
"How lovely," Madame d'Etienne replied tonelessly. She turned to Fae. "Come along, Fae, it is time to go home." She and Fae sauntered off.
Mom snorted lightly. "Goodbye," she said sarcastically. She looked at Reese, who grinned at her. "Well it's nice to meet you," she said.
Reese waved. "Hi," she said.
Mom held the cello out. "So," she said to Terrence, "what do you think."
"Its great, Mom," her son replied without enthusiasm.
"Great," Mom mouthed to Mr. Mixson, who smiled and took the cello from her. "Guess we'll take it. And Terrence," she went on, digging in her purse, "how about Mac and I take this home for you and you just walk back when you feel like it?"
Terrence stared at her. "But," he replied. "I thought - "
"Oh Terrence, you worked like a dog for six weeks, I don't think one more day off restriction will turn you into a juvenile delinquent."
"Oh." Terrence looked over at Reese, who smiled brightly at him. "O...kay. Thanks Mom." The two teens turned to leave the music store.
"Hey Terrence," said Mac, following them to the door. "Have fun with your girlfriend." Reese started laughing and Terrence got a horrified look.
"She's not my girlfriend, shut up!" he snapped, and Mac ran back to Mom giggling.
Great, thought Terrence as he and Reese walked out of the store. Mac talked Mom into letting him off his restriction for the day so he could lord it over the older boy all summer. Probably was going to wait to trade it for a big favor later. This could be bad.
"Come on," said Reese, grabbing the boy's elbow and derailing his train of thought. "Mistress Zaida is signing people's faces! We don't want to get there after her pen runs out of ink!"
This took precedence over Mac's little plot, and Terrence let himself be dragged deeper into the mall.
Terrence had never hung out with a girl before. It wasn't what he had expected. Shortly after leaving the music store he and Reese got into a lengthy, in-depth discussion about pro wrestling, during which he found himself thoroughly occupied with, one: sounding knowledgeable, two: trying to understand some of Reese's slurred speech, and three: remembering to face her when he talked. Convinced he was failing at all three points he started roughhousing with her the way he might with one of his ex-"friends" to cover up his embarrassment - shoving her against a garbage can and trying to trip her several times. A lot of people, more so girls, would take offense at this but Reese retaliated nicely, pushing Terrence into a potted plant and against a rack of bras just inside the Victoria's Secret outlet. They ended up chasing each other around the fountain and getting reprimanded by a security guard, after which they slunk away, trying - and failing - to look remorseful.
When they reached the mini-con they poured over the memorabilia and enthused over collectibles until they got enough suspicious looks from vendors to drive them off a few yards.
"I'm sorry," Terrence said. "I get that a lot. People always think I'm gonna steal."
"No, its me," argued Reese. "I have Oh-My-God-Crazy-Hair therefore I will rob everyone blind! Hey!" she changed the subject. "Let's get our faces signed!"
But as it turned out Mistress Zaida hadn't even shown up and so the teens eventually gravitated away from the convention and into a computer store.
"These are the best games," Reese said, picking up a roller coaster park sim. "You can strap a guest with a weak stomach on a wild coaster and watch him powerpuke like a million times."
"Gross," was Terrence's reply, although he examined the back of the box. "I'm no good at strategy games though. I like this one," he offered, picking up Chainsaw Nightmare. "I showed it to my mom but somehow I doubt I'm gonna get it for my birthday."
"When's your birthday?" asked Reese distractedly.
"In a few weeks."
"Really?" Reese looked around. "Oh my god this is the best game ever," she said suddenly, grabbing up a box. "I got it years ago but I still play it."
Terrence looked. "Alice in Wonderland?" he scoffed. "What, you try to rack up points having tea parties and dancing with rabbits?"
"No." Reese held out the box. "It's American McGee's Alice. You run around chopping people up with a knife, or exploding their heads with croquet balls, and blowing stuff up with bombs."
"No way." Terrence took the box and looked at the back. "Cool. It looks creepy. My mom would never let me have this."
Reese grabbed the box back. "Then I'll buy it for your birthday. Don't show her."
"Hey, no way!" Terrence argued, making a failed grab for the box. "You can't buy me a present! I just met you, that'd be weird."
"Ha, too late, I'm in line," grinned the girl, stepping towards the cashier. "Oh come on, it's been out for years, its not expensive." She paid in cash while Terrence scowled at her. "Happy birthday," she said brightly, shoving the bagged game at him and shooing him out of the store.
"Wasn't that game rated Mature?" Terrence asked as soon as they were outside. "They shouldn't have even sold it to you."
"I know that cashier," replied Reese flippantly. She pointed at the food court. "Do you want to eat?"
Over tacos, Terrence asked Reese how come her parents let her dye her hair weird colors.
Reese shrugged. "I can express myself any way I want," she said. "I'm supposed to be a great artist some day. It's when I don't express myself that I get in trouble."
"What if you don't want to be a great artist?"
"'Want'?" repeated the girl sarcastically. "What's that?" She poked at a pile of shredded lettuce on her tray. "I'm a painter," she said. "Fae's a cellist. That's what we are."
Terrence wasn't exactly thrilled. "Your parents sound like real hardasses," he commented. "My mom's never put any pressure on me to do anything other than quit getting sent to the Principal's office."
"What about your dad?"
"He's in New York," replied the boy with a shrug. "He sends money. I think maybe Mom talks to him on the phone sometimes but he never talks to us or writes us or even sends cards. Only money. I haven't seen him since I was seven. I think Mom said he remarried. I'm not sure. She doesn't talk about him and we don't ask."
"That's kind of sad," said Reese. "But maybe you're better off. Maybe he's a major jerk."
"Yeah..."
"So are you grounded all summer?"
Terrence looked up from his Coke. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I mean, except maybe on my birthday."
"You having a party?"
Terrence hesitated, unwilling to admit that you have to have friends to have a party. "Uh...prolly not," he replied at length.
Reese swung her legs. "You wanna go to the movies?" she asked.
Terrence thought about it. "Um...well, if I can...yeah," he said.
Reese grabbed Terrence's left wrist and dragged his hand towards her. She pulled a pen from her pocket. "This first number," she said as she wrote on his palm, "is the relay service. The second one is my number. Call the relay service and give them my number."
Terrence itched to ask what a relay service was but he didn't want to look stupid. "Okay," he said.
"I gotta go home," said Reese, releasing Terrence's wrist and tucking the pen away. "Call me."