Chapter 14: Face the Music
Disclaimer: read chapter 1
(Jazz's POV)
My mind attempted to pay attention at school, but my heart and mind wasn't in it. At least not today. My math exam showed. A C minus. My parents would never accept it.
With the Bellas, the Worlds, community service, school, Pieter being a stuck up snob, and dance - my life was spiraling out of control. What's worse was that my math professor refused to give me extra credit assignments. I understand that education was important in life, but I could never give my all as I gave to dance. Though, apparently what I want in life doesn't matter.
Chloe was pressuring everyone to practice. Morning marches at 6AM, vocal exercises, and aerobic exercise. We all had to skip class to fit practice into the schedule.
Beca was overwhelmed as well. One practice, she mixed up her playlist from what she presented to her boss to the practice. It earned suspicion and a mouth-full anxiety attack from Chloe.
It would've been great if I just dropped the Bellas, the Worlds, and school. Just do what I want to do. As much as I dreamt it in my head, my heart couldn't bear to do so. I made the commitments. The Bellas were my second family - my sisters. My parents would be disappointed if I gave up halfway through my education. No doubt DSM would post online of how big a chicken I was for dropping out. No. I accepted these challenges, and I must pull through even though I am close to a melt down.
After my classes were finished, I decided to visit the Treblemakers' place to do homework. Phone off. The Bellas atmosphere was a tornado, knocking down every brick in my mind like a wave and rise to my blood pressure. I am only nineteen years old. I shouldn't have high blood pressure. My brother's place was chilled. They have to worry about school, acapella, and community service. That was it.
The only excitement that happened was Bumper's surprise visits. It brought tension into the room by some of the members, due to the fact that he indeed left them before Finals. Then again, it was a miracle that he left, because he was obnoxious and rude as a leader. He made a few attempts to put his two sense, but Jesse wanted none of it.
I was welcomed inside with bear hugs and fudge pops. Not the alcoholic kind, sadly. I attempted to do my homework with my laptop, listening to Les Miserables. Do my homework in a cool, collected atmosphere then head back to Bellas for practice. On time. Attempted to.
A handsome nerd approached me with a goofy smile plastered across his face. Black perm, golden pale skin, specs over his hazel eyes. Dressed in blue collared shirt, a brown vest, and a Gryffindor colored bow tie. He could be a Harry Potter look alike.
If Jesse keeps on recruiting geeks like Benji, Donald, and Hat - they could be posed as mathletes instead of hot acapella groups. Than again, Bumper was captain of the group before Jesse took over, he was the biggest nerd out of all.
"Hi," He greeted with twinkle fingers of a wave. I was right. This was officially the geek squad. As obnoxious as they were, at least they weren't jock jerks.
"Hi," I replied casually, returning my eyes back on my homework.
"You are Jesse's sister, right?" he asked.
"Mm-hm. Jesse's busy sister," I emphasized, hoping the guy would take a hint.
"Oh good," he nodded. "Education. Totally important. You are also a Bella? Treblemaker's former arch foe?"
"Yep. Bella's choreographer." I nodded, pressing my lips in a fine line.
Seriously? Can't he see that I was in the middle of homework? He was standing there with hands on his hips, nodding swiftly and smiling like an idiot. Silence lasted for a whole minute. I tried to return to my homework but his pair of eyes locked on the side of my head, becoming a complete distraction.
"Uh... Can I help you?"
The man giggled nervously, shaking the dandruff off his permed head, "Sorry. I... I am not good at this. You know, saying my name and all."
"Obviously," I grumbled.
"Um... I'm sorry." He nervously went into the mini fridge beside the couch. His shoulder accidently bumped into my arm that was holding a fudge pop, nailing it right on my 2008 Regional T-shirt.
"Whoa! Come on!" I yelped, but the man was oblivious. He pulled back, closing the fridge offering something I already had.
"Fudge pop?"
My frown deepened and eyes narrowed. The man took noticed of the stain, spilling out apologies. Immediately tried to clean in by spitting on his good shirt and wiping it on my shirt. I leaned back and yanked my head back, shoving him away with disgust. My laptop slid out of my knee and tumbled on the hardwood floor.
"Sorry!" The man apologized picking up my laptop, inspecting it to see any damage. I yanked it out his grasp, wanting to see the damage my self. Nothing broken, only a scratch on the side.
I opened it to see if any glitch occurred. Luckily, the computer started as normal.
"Sorry," he apologized again. He reached out to get rid of the stain again, but I slapped his hand away.
"I'm fine," I snapped.
"I hope the shirt isn't new," the man commented with guilt.
I glanced back at him. Officially, this guy was the dumbest guy alive. "Well, not really. This shirt is an antique... 2008 to be exact."
"It's an antique, oh I am..." He trailed off, noticing my raised brow at him. He pointed at me with questionable furrowed brows, "Were you being sarcastic?"
"I don't know, good sir. Am I?" I offered him a raised brow that mirrored his, while a smirk crept across my lip.
He chuckled, setting himself on the arm chair. His butt, however, missed the seating, nearly took a fall.
"Whoa!" He quickly held the arm with his own, swinging his body back on the chair. He chuckled sheepishly. His face flushed when I laughed at him. An annoying pain in the butt, but still a sweetie. I never saw him before in the group. Must be a newbie that Jesse recruited. He must be nervous enough to be in the group. Almost reminded me of Legacy when she joined. I must cut the guy some slack, despite him ruining the shirt I was going to wear for bed.
"Sorry," he apologized for the umpteenth time.
"It's okay," I shrugged. "It's just a shirt. It'll wash off."
"Good. Good." He nodded.
I closed my laptop shut, knowing that I wasn't going to get my stuff done anytime soon. I waited for him to start talking, but he just sat there and stared at me awkwardly.
"Um... and you are?" I asked.
His mouth formed an o as well as his eyes.
"Oh yeah. I forgot! Sorry."
"Would you quit saying sorry?"
"So..." He quickly stopped himself from repeating the word. "I'm..." he gestured himself, pausing again. His eyes narrowed in deep thought, "Um..."
"You don't know your own name?" I asked.
Greg (aka Hat) stopped by at the fridge, taking out a can of beer. He offered a smile of greeting to me and the man.
"What's up, Jazz. Reuben."
Before we could return the greeting, he walked away.
"Reuben!" the man remembered, nearly made me drop my laptop. "My name is Reuben."
"Reuben? Like the club sandwich?" I asked, tilting my head confused.
"No... well, yes. If you want to think that sure. I can be a delicious sandwich, right? Huh?"
My jaw clenched, leaning back with unease.
He chuckled nervously, shedding more dandruff off his head. "Wow. That was bad. Bad pun, Reuben."
"You said that not me."
"Right. So-"
"Don't!" I warned. "No more sorrys!"
"Right, so..." Reuben slapped a hand over his mouth, stopping himself from saying the word. "Well... Anyway... I am new. I am a Treblemaker."
"I noticed."
"Right, and... Well, your brother is really nice, a great singer."
"And you're not?" I asked. "If that's the case, you wouldn't be here. Then again, if he catches you with me, he will make assumptions and be determined that you won't be here on two legs."
He chuckled, "That's a good one." Though, his laughing slowed when he saw my straight face. He quickly looked around to find the overprotective big brother around, "Is he watching?"
"Probably not. But don't worry. If he did see us, I will be sure to put in a good word for you."
"Really? Thanks. I-I am a freshman in high school, and... I wanted to start my year right."
"No, problem. I'm sure that if you're here as a Treblemaker, then you must have talent."
"Yeah. I-I play guitar." He pulled a guitar that was hidden behind his frame. How long was it there? How did he get it there? Was he a magician? "See?" He strummed a few bars.
I nodded with false intrigue, "You do realize that this is acapella, right? No instruments. Only your voice." I tapped my throat to prove my point.
"Yeah, I know," Reuben strummed a few more bars. "I sing with and without instruments. You wanna hear?"
"Um... I would, but I have homework to attend to." Hopefully, he'll leave me be now.
"Oh, what are you working on?"
"Math."
He awed, "Wow. Math... Math is hard."
"Yep. I got a C on my exam, and if I don't ace my mid-term in December..." I raised my hands up in surrender.
"I get it." He nodded. "I mean math is hard, but I don't mind sharing my math of wisdom."
"Oh, you have taken college math in high school?" I perked up in hope.
Reuben smiled, but shook his head, indicating that he wasn't a math wiz. There goes my hope of passing college.
"But two heads are better than one, right? How about we stick together and..." He patted the guitar, "Face the music." He strummed a few bars. Now he was trying to show off his talent. It became weird when he began to sing.
"Who is the maid with the raven black hair
Who sleeps on moonbeams and dances on air"
I tilted my head to the side, not exactly recalling the lyrics of the song. Better yet, what his intentions were for singing the song. Did he write this?
"With hair that smells vanilla and legs leap like frogs
Whose infinite virtues are known near and far
It's Jesse's own sweetheart, our dear olive flower..."
Reuben paused to strum a few more bars. Seriously? Did he write this song? Now I know he was showing off. It didn't take a genius to know who he's referring to. Jesse's sweetheart? Frog shorts I wore one time? The name after a olive family shrub? I would be lying if I said I wasn't flattered. I used to believe that gestures like this was cliché, but once you experience it, you would think different. It took a lot of me to stop from blushing, unsuccessfully. Some man turned to stare with tilted heads and narrowed eyes. Screw them. This was sweet.
"And under the shimmer and crystals and pearls
Lies hidden a fierce and adventurous girl
The forces of evil that lurk in the night
Will cower in fear when this shooting star... Ignites!"
I have one word to describe this sweet ballad.
"Damn," I declared.
This dude can really play and sing. No wonder Jesse recruited him. Annoying, but sweet, talented man.
He chuckled sheepishly, "I know. I am not done. I have another verse."
"Well, I'm all ears! Hit it, Harry Potter!"
Just as he was about to play, another obnoxious man worse than Reuben shoved the guitarist off the couch.
"Oh, Jazz! Thank the accapella gods for your presence!"
I groaned. I thought when the song was over, I would return to my homework with a smile on my face. Unfortunately, Bumper turned my frown upside down.
"Excuse me?!" Reuben's head perked from the arm of the couch. He used his shirt to polish the round specs. "We were in the middle of a moment."
Bumper snorted, dismissing the nerd with a waved hand. "Oh, please!" He picked up the guitar, aiming it at Reuben's head. "Serenade another naïve chick with another cartoon network song."
"The song's not from Cartoon Network, it was from Disney XD!" His eyes widened at me, while I simply looked away. So he didn't write it after all? Figures. Worse yet, he watches Disney channel? Lame!
I listened to the stomps, indicating that Reuben left with huffs and curses behind.
"So Jazz, you are a girl."
I glared at him sharply, "Really? I didn't notice."
"Well, that is sad. Hasn't mommy tell you the difference between a man and woman?"
"Fuck you!" I snapped, opening my laptop to get back to homework.
"No. No. Wait, Jazz!" He walked over and shut the laptop with my hands on the keyboard. I pressed my lips together, holding back another set of curse words. It's official. Staying with Treblemakers for peace and quiet was another idiotic mistake, a distraction.
"To be serious, I really need your help."
"If you want me to pop the pimple on your butt, forget it." I opened my laptop, only for Bumper to close it.
"Great. Now here is my dilemma." He bounced onto my knees, making me huff with pain. My legs were never the same, thanks to Fat Amy's weight. The soreness never went away once the pair was compressed.
"You know my relationship with Fat Amy."
"I wish I didn't, but sadly yes."
"Good. Well... She and I have been close, and... we really like each other's company."
"Bumper, where is this going?" The last thing I needed was to hear anymore of the couple's escapades.
"I want to take our relationship to the next level!" Bumper blurted, irritated by my rudeness.
It suddenly dawned on me to what he just said. I feel my eyes widened and gravity pulls my jaw open.
Bumper sighed, burying his face into his hands, "This is not how I rehearsed this."
"Uh... You and Fat Amy?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
"The next level?"
"Yep."
"You mean you guys didn't hit the home run?!" I asked in disbelief, earning stares from the Trebls.
"Yes... wait, what?!" Bumper glared at her with redness on his cheeks. "No! No!"
"So you guys didn't?"
"No. I didn't mean our hookups. I was talking about the relationship!" Bumper declared, rocking his body side to side, adding more weight on my legs. "I want to be Fat Amy's boyfriend!"
I blinked in shock. Boyfriend? That's unexpected. Some of the boys around heard, and couldn't believe it.
"Boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"You and Fat Amy?"
"Hello?" Bumper waved in front of my face, "Did your brain fart to not keep up with the program?"
"No, my brain lacks oxygen due to a 200lb man sitting on my legs that are completely numb now!" I shoved him off me. My laptop slid off, landing on the hardwood floor. I groaned in dismay. The crack I heard was a sign that my homework shall wait a while.
"First of all, wrong! I am 160. Second..." Bumper stood up and began pacing back in forth, blocking my path to my laptop. "I love Fat Amy. With all my heart. I want to have a future with her. We have grown so close, in and out of the bedroom. I feel like it is time for us to stay the night, holding hands, walking in the rain, watching the I Love Lucy sitcoms, cuddling under the warm blanket-"
I couldn't help it. I burst into hysterical laughter, making Bumper glare at me, completely unamused. Some of the boys were laughing amongst themselves.
"I'm sorry, are you talking about the Fat Amy?" I asked. "The one who is my drinking buddy? Pounced on me, once, and farted on my jeans? The stench never went away!"
"And the chick who shoved off her triangle?" A Treble perked.
"Nobody asked you!" Bumper snapped, before he turned to me. "Why is it so funny?"
"I'm sorry, Bumper," I apologized that only came out as a snort. "Accapella love and Fat Amy don't mix."
"Why not?!"
"I know her. Okay? She isn't the romantic type. She is not the one to hold hands, walk in the lake, although I Love Lucy is a classic that everyone shouldn't hate."
Bumper slapped against his side, "So you're saying that my feelings for her don't matter?"
"No. No!" I disagreed, attempting to shift my numb legs till it was resting on the floor. I huffed with shooting pain, while pulling Bumper on the couch. "Sit down. Sit down. Look... Fat Amy... is unique. Outside and inside... definitely inside." I shivered at the image of her exposed down under.
"Beautiful," he whispered dreamily.
"Anyway," I hurried back to the subject before I puke myself. I literally had to swallow the disgusting acid down my throat, causing an uncomfortable, burning sensation. "If you feel this way about her... then you should tell her."
"Yes... Yes, I will!" He hopped onto his feet, creating a heroic Prince Charming stance. "When the full moon rise, the time for our weekly hook up, I shall set up a romantic rendezvous! I shall woo her with her favorites, besides salsa!"
"Wow. Okay. I'm glad I could help," I grumbled, picking up my laptop, ignoring the shooting tickling sensation up and down my legs. "But I must warn you, Bumper, this is Fat Amy we're talking about. She is what she is, and if she doesn't want what you want... then she isn't the one."
Bumper scoffed, "Must you be so negative, Jazz?" I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "Now if you excuse me. I have an appointment with the grocery store."
Hat ran into Bumper to get another beer from the fridge, much to his dismay.
"Oy, Hat!"
"Go to hell," Hat replied, walking passed him.
Bumper scoffed, "Rude-ah!" For that Bumper hurried out the building much to everyone's relief.
I picked up my laptop, putting it back in my bag. That's when Jesse graced his presence, coming down the stairs.
"Hey, Loser. What's up?" I teased, standing up from the couch, hooking my bag over the shoulder. Standing up was a big mistake. The numbness of my legs immediately set me back down.
"Jazz, stick around for a minute." He commanded. "I need to talk to you for a second."
"Okay, but you might want to make it quick," I turned on my phone to find missed calls and text messages from the Bellas, mostly Chloe. "I have been summoned, and you know how Chloe feels about the girls being late. Take it from Aubrey."
I looked around, realizing the other Trebles that were hanging out disappeared. It was only me and my brother. Looking up at him, he was an exact image of our father. Did I do something? Why did he get so serious?
"What's wrong?" I asked with narrowed eyes, but smile remained intact.
Jesse adverted my gaze, kneeling before me, holding my hands.
"What is it?" I pressed. My smile slowly faded. It was one thing to hear my brother scold me like a dad, but keeping in suspense with silence was torture. "Jesse, you are scaring me?"
He sighed, looking at him with teary eyes. Jesse could be sensitive at times, emotionally and when we tan under the sun. That's when I knew that something must be seriously wrong.
"I got a call from Mom and Dad," he declared in a whisper.
My eyes widened. What did he mean he got a call? What happened? Did they know about my C? Did Mom convince Dad to pull us out of Barden? She can't do that, can she?
"Why?" I asked.
"Please, Jazz, just... be quiet. This is hard enough for me as it is."
"Why? Just tell me what's wrong!"
Jesse held my hand tightly, telling the words that I didn't wish to hear.
~000~000~000~
(Third POV)
"Where is she?!" Chloe demanded. She paced around the dance studio, while the Bellas remained seated. "Where's Jazz?! She is supposed to be here for the choreography!"
"She is going to be here!" Legacy assured. "She would never bail the Bellas."
"I don't know," Cynthia Rose shrugged. "Everybody is on edge. Take it from me. My girlfriend left me for another guy-"
"No cares about your girlfriend!" Chloe snapped, sending daggers at the woman. Cynthia raised a brow at the red head, crossing her arms over her chest. If looks could kill, either one of them could be dead. Chloe could be the psycho version of Poison Ivy, while Cynthia would just be the younger version of Madea.
Lily whispered something that no one understood.
"She is not answering my calls," Beca declared.
"Her phone is off," Fat Amy grumbled, wearing a sleep mask over her eyes that had drawings of opened blue eyes on each side.
"She bailed!" Chloe declared. "She bailed the Bellas! I knew it!"
"Chloe, calm down!" Beca snapped. "You pacing like that is make me dizzy."
"So what?!"
Beca groaned, slapping her hands against her thighs, giving up the attempt to calm down the co-leader.
"She could be kidnapped and sold to be someone's dog," Flo suggested.
Nobody dared acknowledge the horrifying thought.
Finally, the double doors opened. Jazz entered the studio with her hood over her head and sunglasses over her eyes.
"See? I told you! Whoo! Yes!" Legacy clapped her hands, creating a victory dance that earned awkward stares from her comrades.
Fat Amy's mask was removed to witness it, "It's official. You are the dumbest Bella in this room."
Legacy stopped, lowering her head, hiding the embarrassment heating her cheeks.
Chloe hurried to the dancing teen, having the urge to slap her.
"Where the fuck have you been?!"
Everyone seemed to adjust Chloe's swearing. Jazz paid no mind to her, passing by her while bumping her shoulder against her leader.
"I'm here now," Jazz set the bag down about to go to her seat. She didn't reach the chair for Chloe pulled her back to face her.
"I'm here now?! I'm here now?! Is that all you have to say?! You are a half hour late! We called and texted you with no response! You wanna know why? You turned your fucking phone off! I see some bitchy moments from you, but this is the worst you can do!"
"I'm sorry! Okay?!" Jazz snapped. "Not everything is about you and your precious team!"
The girls took notice of how her voice was throat as if she was holding back emotion. She never talk smack about her own team like this. Another thing they noticed, she was wearing a hood and wearing sunglasses, when it wasn't sunny outside. Something was wrong.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let's... Let's just warm up, okay?" Jazz removed her hood, throwing it across the room.
"Jazz, are you okay?" Fat Amy asked.
"I'm fine," Jazz replied. She clapped her hands, urging everyone to stand, "Let's get going."
"With your sunglasses on?"
"So what?! Are we going to waste time sitting on our asses or dance? Beca, you have the playlist, right? T-The correct playlist?"
"Yeah." Beca approached, reaching her hand out to Jazz's face - the sunglasses. Jazz backed away, keeping an arm distance from Beca. Chloe came up from behind to snatch the glasses, revealing Jazz's bloody red, teary eyes.
"Hey," Beca's face fell with concern, grasping Jazz's shoulders with gentle sisterly care. "Jazz, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Jazz slapped Beca's hands off. In the corner of her eyes, she saw her friends staring at her that matched Beca's. She hated that look. She didn't want to be here. "Stop looking at me like that! Stop asking me questions! I'm fine! Really!"
"Jazz, you wasted a half hour practice," Chloe declared firmly. "We should be singing by now. This isn't like you to miss practice and teaching us new moves."
Jazz breathed out shakily, tears falling from her eyes. "Stop telling me I waste practice! I didn't! I didn't!" She lost it. The tears escaped and the composure dropped. The girl collapsed into Beca's arms and cried onto the woman's shoulder. Beca with Legacy's assistance, lead the teen to her chair.
Flo urged her to take deep breaths. Ashley or Jessica offered some water for her. Jazz sipped the water, then pulled back to gasp for breath.
"Jazz, just tell us what happened," Fat Amy demanded. "We are going to find out either way."
Jazz sniffled her nose, leaning her posture forward, while folding her hands on her lap. "It's Mariana."
Everybody furrowed their brows in confusion.
"Mariana?" Legacy asked.
"M-My grandma. Mom and Dad called Jesse, and..." Jazz wailed with utter sadness. She wiped her eyes stubbornly, continuing her story the best of her ability. "They... They said... That her brain tumor came back!"
The girls gasped and uttered the 'oh no's.
Chloe's lips quivered, officially feel guilty for snapping at Jazz like that. She kept her silence, fearing that she might make it worse.
Beca knew the Swanson siblings' grandma. Quite a character when Jesse made the introductions. The first question the elderly woman asked that if the couple had been sleeping together? It was awkward at first, but the couple laughed about it afterwards. Other than the bluntness, Mariana Swanson was an awesome chick, not to mention a fighter. Mariana had a brain tumor before, but luckily, the doctors caught it on time for it to take it out. Hopefully, this was the case.
"Did they catch it early like last time?" Beca asked.
Jazz shook her head, "I-I don't think so. They said that it grew b-big, and began to spread... the stupid doctors said they'll do their best to treat her, b-but..." Jazz sniffled, reluctant to say the words that were hard for Jesse to say. "This year might be the last time I spend with her." She buried her face into Beca's neck. Beca wrapped her arms around her friend. Legacy rubbed her back, smoothing out the wrinkles of the girl's top.
Jazz didn't want to believe her reality. Everyone knew how close she was to her grandmother. The elderly woman was a role model to Jazz. A sweet lady who bakes cookies every full moon. The fact that Jazz might lose her best friend for real shattered half of her heart.
Nobody practiced today. Despite Jazz's insistence to sing and dance, the girls knew that she wasn't in the right mind or state to act. The girls spent the whole evening in the studio, holding the girl close with love and support.
They were assuring her that everything will be okay.
~000~000~000~
(Pieter's POV)
Vierzehn (fourteen) hours down, and sechsunddreißig (36) hours to go. I never thought I could get away with this - serving labor-less community hours behind DSM's back. Nobody was suspicious, only Andrew has the knowledge. For his sake, it better stay that way.
My time with kinders were wonderful. They were bright and cheerful, especially my admirer - Madison. Such a sweet, naïve child. I am all about school crushes, but hers was just adorable.
The downside to this experience was Jazz girl. She was my competition - my biggest match and foe. I hate to admit it that she has beaten me the last round of the dance off as captain. Though, I am still in the lead. After all, my team beat hers in the Riff Off.
However, that first dance when she shook my hand and bid congrats, I was surprised. I never believed her to be mature, until that moment. Sure, it was just a façade to set for the kinders, but something behind the mask showed sincerity. It made me look childish since I didn't bid her congrats in the last round.
If we must be forced to work together, we must act like we're the dynamic duos. No excuse. If she can push her pride to shake my hand with her tiny fingers, I shall do the same and put my kitty claws away.
My opportunity came to play when I arrived in the classroom to see Jazz girl playing with the CD player. She was on time like last. Perhaps, Madame Murphy was accurate when she said that Jazz girl can always be on time. That first meet was just pech (bad luck).
There she was. Squatting down, stretching the black, tight leggings. The muscles of her arms and chest flexed at every movement. The smell of her sweet aroma entered my nostrils.
I mentally shook my head at the ludicrous thought that once again haunted me. My sane mind and dreams.
This girl shall be the death of me.
With my main task in mind, I approached her with the sly smile across her lips.
"Guten morgen, mein liebling." (Good Morning, my dear)
She huffed, clearly not glad to see me. It's almost as if she believed I insulted her. I couldn't blame her if it came to that conclusion.
"Pieter, what a pleasant surprise," she hissed out the words with force politeness. The smile fake as her slutty friend's breasts. "How you been?"
I let out a dramatic yawn, stretching my arms out. "Wunder (Marvelous)." My eyes reflected by the window to see the sun shining its rays. "The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and birds are singing. Can't this be any better morning?"
"Wish it was," she grumbled. Her voice was quiet, but my super hearing picked up of what she said. My head tilted, couldn't figure out what she meant. Before I could utter the word, the sneaky but brilliant Madame Murphy made a grace with her presence. The woman commanded us to warm up in French.
"Listen, Jazz girl, the sugar plum fairies missed their cues, so we need to go over with them first. Don't you think?"
I waited for her head to swell for she will argue and tell how wrong I was. Last practice, she pointed out that the boys were not technical. That they needed to be rehearsed first. I waited for her to say it again.
"Fine."
There it was. Fine. Right on cue... Wait. Did she say fine? A sincere fine? No sarcastic remarks? Was my brain manipulating me into hearing something that wasn't there?
"What?" I asked.
Madame Murphy's voice in the background demanded us to warm up with the children as well.
"Allez! Allez!" she said in between claps.
Through the class was getting weirder. I commanded something from a child, and Jazz girl didn't say the opposite. In fact, she hardly talked at all. Even Madame Murphy pulled out the class to see what troubles her.
Dylan the hip hop suggested that we all eavesdrop on the conversation, but I instructed them to work on his dance.
Ten minutes outside until they returned with bright smiles. Only I saw Jazz girl's smiles whenever she wins something. Her smile now wasn't sincere. A mere mask. The children were smart enough to know that something was off, except for Madison.
The two hours of awkwardness ended soon enough. I packed up, ready to leave. Somehow, Madame Murphy cancelled the dance off due to 'complicated circumstances'. Needless to say that the children were disappointed. I know exactly how they feel. Jazz girl and I each won a round of dance. For Madame Murphy to cancel the third round was just plain wrong. Though, deep down, I know who was responsible for the cancellation.
I packed my bag ready to leave, praising the kinders for their good work.
Madison skipped to me, gracing me with her cute self. I kneeled down at her level with a smile, "Hallo, Madison-"
SLAP!
My right cheek met a horrible sting that whipped my entire head to the side. I could hear the children gasp, some laughter by Jazz (finally, she decided to smile for real), and insincere scolding by the instructor.
"Why didn't you call me, last night?" Madison demanded with a hand on her hip.
I couldn't believe it. I thought it to be just a childhood crush, but for the girl to think that we were actually in a relationship - flattery but disturbing. She was only eight years old, too young for a relationship.
"We had this beautiful moment, last practice, and I never heard from you again?"
What exactly was our beautiful moment? As I recall, I only showed Dylan how to lift someone, and Madison was the guinea pig. I only held her legs and head while Dylan did the rest.
Her friends in the background heard and started giggling amongst themselves. Where was Madame Murphy when I needed her?
"I know this is dance, and we must keep it professional," Madison continued. "But I feel like you need to put some effort outside of dance. I told my father about you, and he's a lawyer!"
My eyes widened. The last thing I wanted was to be questioned as a child predator, better yet be sued for breaking a young mädchen's (girl's) heart. I needed to proceed this cautiously without giving her any wrong idea. Then again, one touch, and she instantly believed that we were meant to be.
"My apologies, Madison. I-" I was cut off again by a kiss on my stinging cheek.
She giggled as she pulled away, gleaming bright as ever, "You are forgiven. I will be sure to tell Daddy that everything is okay between us, okay?"
"Um... okay?" I said it as a question than a statement.
"I will see you next time, Pieter. I'll miss you." She skipped away back to her friends, who giggled amongst themselves. I rolled my eyes, continuing to pack my bag.
In the corner of my eye, I noticed Jazz girl having a conversation with Madame Murphy. Backed turned from me, talking in secret. Definitely not suspicious. Madame Murphy handed Jazz girl something. A sparkle shined in between them. What was it?
As much as I like to find out, I recalled the story how curiosity killed the cat. It was none of my business anyway.
~000~000~000~
I drove the bus to the area where Andrew and I were supposed to paint off the graffiti, only he wasn't there. The bus drove around the block, narrowing my eyes at the details find any signs of the blonde in black sweats. He was missing.
Did he move? Did Kommissar find him and demanded him to know where I was? Why didn't he call me to let me know he was going to leave the area? We were supposed to meet, right here in the ally way.
I pulled out my bag to find my phone. Only there was one problem. My phone cannot be found either. I pulled out my dancing clothes, my wrist bands, headbands, and my spare clogging shoes. My phone didn't make its appearance. There was only one place where it could be.
"Oh, scheiße," I cursed, banging against the steering wheel. This was just great. Andrew was gone. My phone was gone. My cover shall be blown, and I would have to do fifty or more push ups to a pissed off Kommissar.
I drove the bus out the ally way and headed back to the studio. On the way, I had to park near the gas stop to fill up the tank, before I could head any further. If I didn't, I would be stranded on the side of the highway with no phone, forcing me to ride with a bunch of fremden (strangers).
What seemed like an eternity, I finally parked by the entrance in time to see the parents' cars picking up their children and exiting the narrow driveway. Luckily, I didn't see Madison with her lawyer of a father. Last thing I needed was to have time even more wasted with unnecessary questions of my intentions with a lawyer's child.
I hurried to the door, only for it to open for me. The glass door swung, nailing me straight in the nase (nose). Why does this always happen to me?
"Pieter? Is that you?" My smelling senses may be temporarily disabled, but my ears perked at the familiar voice of Madame Murphy.
"Oh, I am so sorry," she apologized. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"
I grunted at the surprise pain up and down my nasal cavity, massaging it with my thumb and index finger.
"I fine, madam," I replied nasally. "Just left my phone in there."
"Oh, say no more." Madame Murphy widened the door open for me to go through. "Come on in."
"I promise to hurry," I skipped inside. "I know you must lock the studio doors."
"No, not really," Madame Murphy admitted, shaking her head. "Jazz is still in there. She will be closing the studio."
Jazz girl still in the classroom? Wunderbar (Great). I have no time to sarcastically comment at her, but then again, there was nothing to insult her about since she said none to me. I just go in, grab my phone, then leave. Simple.
"Very well, thank you, madam." I hurried inside the studio, down the hallway.
I just go in, get my phone, then leave. Just like I planned it in my noggin'. Just as I entered the classroom, I heard music. The instruments echoed and bounced against the wooden door.
My ear pressed against it to hear the song. I recognized the song from my younger days. I watched the Wizard of Oz as a child. Shirley Temple singing Over the Rainbow. Even though, I listened to the German version of the movie. The song had emotion, heart, beauty - all of it.
I peeked through the glass window of the door, witnessing the raven haired beauty dance with the sun as her spotlight. The tank top and pants were discarded. She was only in booty shorts and a sports bra. I never thought I would have a front row seat for a pervasive show like this. I shouldn't stand here and watch. I needed to get my phone so I won't get in trouble enough than I already am.
Then again, I couldn't help myself but watch the swan flap her defined wings.
She preformed more surprises than I have witnessed in person thus far. There were the videos I watched on YouTube. I saw her elegant lines of grace like a true swan, shaking her hips like Shakira. At this moment, she preformed outside the comfort zone, outside my pure imagination, almost an acrobat.
Her arms stretched in straight lines. Her legs twisted in places that no inflexible man could accomplish. Her body leaped high as if she was flying. Her chest rise and deflated at every breath she took. The sight of her perky cleavage nearly made my pants wet with need.
Her face was what surprised me more. It didn't possess a game face, or the teasing smirk that turned me on. No. A complete opposite. It held melancholy, complete sadness. She in pain made me feel for her. She took my heart and twisted it the way she wanted. She made me feel than anyone else could. She brought this fire that hasn't been ignited in so long. I admit, I had a head strong energy when it comes to preforming on stage, but this moment was different. She made me feel all kinds of emotion. Rage, humiliation, confident, aroused, lonely, and now sadness.
What was she doing to me?
ACHOO!
I immediately covered my nose, widening my eyes in disbelief. What did I just do? The snot covering the formerly glass showed what had happened. I prayed to the accapella gods that the girl didn't notice, but unfortunately, she did.
She jumped and shook at the loud sound of my sneeze. If it wasn't for the foggy glass, I could've seen the tiny, blonde hairs rise from her skin.
I ducked my head from the window to avoid being seen, thus, it was too late.
"Pieter?!" her voice boomed inside. It's officially. I'm busted. Like a boy caught peeking at a woman's window. Scheiße. I could run away, but my phone was in there. There was no other option, than to face the music.
I slowly cracked the door open, seeing the swan's wings on her Shakira hips. Her teary eyes dried, her glossy lips disappeared in a fine, tight line. She became the scolding parent, and I was the misbehaved child.
"Pieter!" she repeated.
I widened the door, offering my innocent smile. "Hallo, mein liebling."
~000~000~000~
(Jazz's POV)
The nerve of him! The nerve of this man! Here I was dancing my heart out, until it was interrupted by a snotty, perverted, German bigfoot! Can't this day get any better?!
The culprit entered the room, trying to sway me with cocky grin of his.
"Hallo, mein liebling," he greeted.
Again with that name!
"Shut up!" I snapped. "What the hell are you doing here? Coming in to spy on me?! How dare you!"
The false innocence disappeared from the man's face. He rolled his eyes.
"Darling, don't flattered yourself." He waltzed over to the shelves, "I left my phone in here. How was I to know that you would be dancing in your undies?"
I blinked, realizing that I was still half naked. His eyes were going lower than where my face was, making my body flush. I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, hurrying to my pile of clothes. First, the sweatpants.
"I'm not in my underwear!" I argued, shoving one leg in my pants before the other. "I'm in shorts!"
"No underwear underneath?" He clicked his tongue in dismay.
"Shut up!" I snapped, grabbing my hoodie.
"Whatever," he grumbled. "I should be asking why you are still present? No Bellas today?"
"For your information, I was allowed to stay after! Madame Murphy gave me a key!"
"I know."
I froze, not hearing any footsteps, only felt a pair of eyes on my back. Turning around to face him, he was still standing there and staring at me. My body couldn't get any hotter than I felt in the moment. If Pieter wasn't in his ballerina attire, exposing the bits of his chest hair, I would surely pass out.
I scoffed, dismissing the horrifying but handsome thought out of mind. "Don't you have a phone to find?"
"Yes, but there is no need for you to leave. No one is stopping you from dancing."
"Oh, so you want me to put on a show for you?"
Pieter didn't respond.
I sighed, picking up my bag, tossing it over my shoulder, "Whatever. I need to go anyway. Good luck finding your phone. You're going to need it. Bye, don't let the door hit you on the way out."
I hurried to leave only to be yanked back against Pieter's massive body. My eyes widened in alarm, lowering down to his covered chest, then down to my arm that was wrapped tightly around my bicep.
"Let go of me," I commanded, tugging effortlessly against his grip.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a whisper.
I blinked, taken back by the question, but didn't look at him. "What?"
"Your eyes... They're red."
I paused, noticing the burning sensation of my eyeballs. A tear threated to leak the corner. I stubbornly wiped it away.
"I'm fine. Now let go."
"No." He refused softly. The tone of voice that I never thought I would hear. It was tender, sweet, filled with concern. The same tone that the Bellas used on me.
"Jasmine."
My heart nearly stopped when he uttered my real name for the first time.
Looking up at Pieter, it was the exact match of Beca's. Filled with concern and worry. It was sincere. I shook my head, regretted looking at him.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm fine. I'm fine." I sounded like I was convincing myself than to Pieter. I was fine. I have to be.
"Jasmine," he repeated.
Stop. Stop saying my name, please! Please, stop. Even though, I didn't say the words out loud, the man still continued to say my name. He wasn't the type to follow my orders anyway. Neither was I.
"Breathe," he commanded softly.
I exhaled heavily and shakily, not realizing that I was holding my breath. He said my name, bringing tears out of my eyes.
Here I was about to break down in front of my enemy. This day can't get any better than this. I am crying now, and there was nothing I could to do to sway that I am okay. When I am not. It's time to come clean.
"My grandma Mariana is dying," I whispered the hoarse declaration.
I stared up at him to find his reaction. He merely blinked and jaw clenched tightly. He released my bicep only to lay them on top of my shoulders. His eyes glistened, evidence of remorse. So Bigfoot does have a heart after all.
Instead of saying anything, he merely pulled me into an embrace, rubbing the back of my hair in comfort.
This couldn't get any more awkward. I was a sob mess in front of my enemy, and he was hugging me like he cared. Maybe he did. Nobody was cruel enough to laugh at something terrifying and painful like death.
There was the fuzzy feeling inside that began to fluttered. The same feeling I got when I first touched Pieter during the Riff Off. It wasn't nerves, but something unknown to me.
This wasn't love. Not at all. Not even lust, despite Pieter's chest hair that haunted my mind and ovaries.
This was awkward and weird. Yet somehow, this touchy moment was...
Tolerable.
A/N: Here it is. Another chapter! I was reluctant to write the drama of this chapter, because it would make me feel depress, considering how I lost my grandfather months ago due to Parkinson's. But the story must go on, if I didn't write this soon, when?
Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and the tender moment at the end. Yay! Pieter is back, and he will stick around in the next chapter. Promise.
What do you think of the new characters in the story? Madison? Reuben (who I pictured like Darren Criss)?
Thank you: Little Luna, Guest, Shy Moon Dancer, and paulavara for reviewing the last chapter. Thank you, readers, for taking the time to read and/oc add this story to list of favorites and/or alerts. You guys, rock!