Andrew's responsibilities increased as courses went on at Appleton, but building friendships at least had become a little bit easier.
Frank was lucky enough to be experiencing an average education, which included a broader range of topics than Andrew was allowed to take.
He was particularly envious that Frank had been prompted to take music to help improve his math skills.
Up until this point, he had been unconsciously avoiding the second floor music room. But today...today he made his way there to lend Frank his math notes after class.
He didn't think much about it until he stepped into the music room. Frank was there with a small handful of their friends, but he hardly saw them at first.
The piano in the corner captured his attention, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't even laid eyes on a piano in years. Memories he had locked away forced themselves to the front of his mind. Wonderful memories...and the most painful one.
"-Ooohooo! Earth to Andrew!" Frank's voice broke through the fog.
Andrew pulled himself out of his reverie, but his eyes kept darting to the piano.
"Here's the math notes," he said, handing the sheets to Frank, who was plucking idly at guitar strings and bending over a bit of sheet music.
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. He remembered it well.
"Is that an 'G' sharp...or...an 'F' flat..." Frank was pondering out loud, plucking away.
"G sharp and F flat are the same note," said Andrew without thinking, almost in a dream-like state.
Frank's head snapped up. "Andrew, you can read this?!" He waved the sheet music.
Andrew panicked a bit. "Well...y-yes, I-"
"That's great! What instrument do you play? You can show me!"
"No, I can't. I haven't played piano in-in years-"
But Frank heard the word 'piano' and was already steering him to the corner by the shoulders.
Andrew tripped over his words and sputtered as Frank sat him down on the bench and propped up the sheet music on the piano.
"I-I don't know," he stuttered.
"Don't worry about it, just mellow out a little and try it and it'll come back to you," Frank offered his huge encouraging smile.
Andrew stared at the music, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt light-headed but at the same time, like a great weight was sitting on his shoulders.
His hands felt like lead as he positioned them on the keys, getting his feet comfortable on the pedals. He plinked a few keys experimentally and his heart raced even faster.
It had been such a long time...but he played the notes. He made a few mistakes at first, but Frank was right...it was coming back to him.
The ugly thorns in his heart withered, starting to shrink away. For a moment, he was almost there again. Almost back in the lovely garden his heart called home. But the joy didn't come back, not all the way. It was stopped by a cold clinical feeling.
Before he knew it, he reached the end of the piece. He barely heard his friends clapping.
"That was so great!" Frank praised. "You never told me you could play like that!"
"I-I haven't been allowed to play in years," he replied. His face hardened. "My father forbids it."
"But you're so good at it!" Frank pressed. "You should come and play after my music class every week."
"No...it's just a useless thing," he echoed his father.
Frank put his arm around his friend's shoulders. "Listen, in the time we've been buddies I've never seen you light up like that. I thought you were gonna break your face!" he laughed. "Anything that makes you feel like that can't be useless."
Their other friends nodded in agreement.
"My feelings don't matter," Andrew sank deeper into his despair.
"No, that's crap," said Frank, getting serious. "Your old man has wrapped you up in so much red tape, you think you're some kind of machine, but you're not. And what's scary is he's not even here right now. You're wrapping that tape around yourself for him, man!"
Andrew didn't want to admit that Frank made a lot of sense. He was often the voice of reason if Andrew was being honest with himself.
"I think you should come up here and play after class. Take some joy for yourself. No need for the old man to find out about it. Right boys?" he looked to the others.
They all agreed. Paul Hanbridge wouldn't hear about it, ever.
And Andrew practiced in secret in the second floor music room for three years. Every once in a while, the old joy would almost come back. He could almost see through the ugly wall of thorns. Almost.