Chapter 3

The rest of winter break passed by slowly, filled with excruciating silence, anger, frustration, and guilt. Dad spent most of his time at work or at some bar in town- which was quite alright with me, considering I had painful bruises and a split lip after our last encounter. Sharpay spent most of her time either locked in her room or wandering around the house like a lost puppy, a pathetic, hopeless look on her face.

Mother had been her idol, her friend, and her confidant. In her eyes, our mother was perfect, the image of what every woman should be. She was successful, married to a wealthy man, talented, and had the personality that almost everyone loved. Sharpay lived to be exactly like her in every way possible. And now that she was gone, there was really no one for Sharpay to look up to. Now Sharpay was forced to find her own course in life. I had a feeling her quest for self-finding would be a long, painful course for her. Either way, she didn't want her clumsy twin brother in her way.

As such, I pretty much kept to myself, sitting in the living room (avoiding the new couch) watching the television, standing in the kitchen making tuna sandwiches, or practicing in our music room, singing mournful songs to fit my mood. As of right now, I was in the music room, sitting at the piano and staring at a piece of music that I just couldn't figure out.

It was a Sonata and wasn't really that difficult. I had just never played it before so I was trying to figure out the tune in my head while playing one hand first and then the second hand. See, I'm not the most coordinated person in the world. What you see on stage is the result of months and months of tiring practice. Without that practice, I would have bad timing, would be tripping all over the place, and would pretty much infuriate my sister.

As such, the piano is not really the instrument for me. Really, the instrument that I enjoy playing the most is the saxophone (alto preferably, but I also love the tenor). Almost no one knows I play the saxophone except for Sharpay and Mom. It was an instrument that I had picked up about five years ago in a music store when we were perusing for a flute for Sharpay. I saw it, pointed it out to my mom and she smiled, saying, "You want to play the saxophone? I think it's perfect for you!" And just like that, she bought it and some books so I could learn how to play.

It took a while, but I got a tutor who one day introduced me to jazz. I fell in love with the music immediately. It was so syncopated and rhythmic and just had such a heart-felt feel to it that it was just so…I don't even know how to explain it. I guess it just touched some part of my heart and it kept me going with the saxophone. However, just thinking of the instrument makes me feel so sad. I glance over at it and feel guilt clutch at my heart again. My mom was so glad that I had chosen a musical instrument as well. Her favorite instrument to be precise.

I stood up and walked over to it, gently running my fingers over its keys and pressing down on a few of them. It's amazing how something that you love so much and have so much passion for can cause you so much pain. Feeling tears welling up in my eyes, I withdrew my hand and placed it in my pocket. Maybe someday I'll be able to pick it up again, but not for a while.

"Ryan?" a soft voice called from behind me. I turned around and saw Sharpay standing in the doorway, her arms around her chest in a protective manner and mascara running down her face. I raised my eyebrows slightly.

"What?" I asked, moving back over to the piano and sitting down. I beckoned for her to come and sit with me and she did, moving slowly and gazing around at all of the instruments and their cases.

"She's never coming home, is she?" Sharpay said. It was a rhetorical question but I still felt the need to reply.

"No," I said, glancing away from her and staring at the door, willing my mom to walk through it and to yell, "Ha! Joke's on you!" Of course she wouldn't, but no one ever said that hope was futile, although I'm starting to believe it is.

Sharpay sighed, obviously melancholy. "I just can't believe I'm not gonna see her again." She looked up at me, tears in her big brown eyes. "I miss her so much and I don't know what to do. It's like she was the only thing that ever made me…well, me. And I know I sound selfish, but I need her. I need her so much and I know that I can't ever go to her and ask her for some help learning the music, or I can't go to her and ask if an outfit looks alright. I won't be able to chat with her when I'm older and married and have kids. Heck, she won't ever see my kids…or my wedding. And I…I just don't know what to do. I'm so lost…"

I looked at my sister, not knowing what to say. She had just put into words what I had been feeling since the day she died. I couldn't comfort her because I myself needed to be reassured that everything would be alright. Of course, everything wouldn't be alright. But I could hope right?

Downstairs, I heard the door open and my father's heavy step. "RYAN! SHARPAY!" he yelled up the stairs. Sharpay stood up immediately, wiping her eyes so it looked like she hadn't been crying. I knew better though. She shook her hair back and straightened her back so she looked haughty.

"Coming, Dad," she yelled back down the stairs before heading towards the door, gesturing for me to follow. And I did.

That's just the way things are.

A. N. I hope you liked this. I do. Um…please review, and if you don't then thanks for reading anyways. Laters!