Lucy plopped back onto the porch steps, fighting down a sigh in front of Sebastian. Why had she let herself get her hopes up? Linus had said it could take years to cure Schroeder of the West Wind Effect (or whatever it was called), but she had let her heartache play tricks on her mind.
Because love can make you do dumb things, she chided herself. It was just her hard luck to fall for a musician. A musician who loved Beethoven more than he hated accordions.
I could almost be proud of him for actually getting close to one, she thought wryly. He had been so polite to Sebastian too, even before finding out the captain was related to the owner of his favorite store. He had not even ranted once about hearing a Beethoven song on an accordion, but he had instead been a perfect gentleman despite his physical discomfort. If Lucy had not had to worry about the North-by-West Effect (or whatever it was called), she might have rewarded him with a kiss on the nose for being such a good sport.
Such was Schroeder's love for Beethoven and upholding his hero's honor even for a middle-school practice debate, Lucy reflected. She could almost admire such dedication — and she could certainly admire it more if he had been equally dedicated to the girl who loved him best and if he did not make her feel like a second fiddle to some dead guy all the time.
She grabbed a book at random and opened it, but she spent a full minute staring at the text before Sebastian evenly remarked, "Oh, I didn't know you could read upside-down, Lucy."
She pinked and quickly turned the book over, but she managed to reply in a calm voice, "I have all sorts of hidden talents, Captain."
Sebastian leaned back, regarding her. "I hope I don't sound too inquisitive, but is Schroeder— that is, are you two…?"
"No," Lucy said, lifting her book closer to her face. "He sees me as a sister."
"Ah." Sebastian turned a few pages without glancing at the text. "I was just wondering why a guy who feels physical discomfort from an accordion would make a point of coming over while I was playing. I would hate to have some jealous kid jump me on my way home and take his rage out on poor Rhonda here."
He patted his instrument for emphasis.
"Nothing makes Schroeder jealous," she muttered. "If he really disliked you, he would just ignore you and play his piano louder while you tried to have a normal conversation with him."
"Well. That's certainly good to know." He flipped a few more pages, but he seemed not to find anything that interested him. He put the book to the side and picked up another.
When Schroeder turned onto his front walk, he noticed then that Snoopy was walking up the stoop steps, carrying his red supper dish in his mouth. Schroeder's pensive expression switched to a frown once he remembered the beagle's concertina, but he bit back the comment resting on his tongue as Snoopy let himself into his house. He followed the dog to the living room, where Snoopy went straight for his owner, nudging a sighing Charlie Brown with the edge of his dish.
Schroeder, meanwhile, plodded for his piano. He sank onto the bench and exhaled, lifting the keyboard cover. He glanced at the sheet music for Wellington's Victory, but then he slowly closed his folder, moving it to the side. Standing, he lifted the seat of his piano bench, where he kept an assortment of sheet music and song books. He rummaged around until he found his collection of Domenico Scarlatti's works. He closed the lid and sat again, and with little ceremony he dove straight into Sonata in D minor, K1.
"What happened?" Charlie Brown asked, lifting his head off the armrest in order to peer over his hungry dog at his friend. "You only play Scarletti when you're too upset for Brahms."
Schroeder did not answer right away, focused on the quick-paced piece which had a way of getting his mind off his troubles. Scarletti, he recalled, was a contemporary of Bach, born the same year. Besides being a wonderful composer in his own right, he had earned the admiration of many other well-known composers, including Beethoven. In trying to understand Beethoven better, Schroeder had begun to study the heroes of his hero and any other composer who remotely had an effect on Beethoven's work, and he had come across the gems which were Scarletti's five hundred and fifty-five keyboard sonatas.
Let's see someone play this on an accordion, a small, childish thought snarked in his mind, but Schroeder gritted his teeth at himself.
"I'm not a snob," he said aloud, flying through the allegro. "I just can't stand shrill noises on certain instruments. Nobody would blame me if I said I disliked the high notes on a soprano recorder. And even though I support people who play the glass harmonica, I can only deal with the sound in limited doses. Nobody calls me a snob then."
"Glass harmonica?" Charlie Brown repeated blankly. "Wouldn't the reeds sound terrible?"
"Of course, not many people like glass harmonicas to begin with," Schroeder went on, "but that's hardly the point. I'm allowed to like what I like, and nobody can make me like what I don't like. Not even her."
Charlie Brown looked quizzically at Snoopy. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"
The beagle shrugged as though to say, I was hoping you would be able to explain it to me.
Schroeder barely noticed their confused exchange.
He was allowed to dislike accordions, no matter how much Lucy liked them (or their players). Schroeder was Schroeder, and Lucy was Lucy. They would always clash, even in their more amiable moments. If Lucy wanted to hang out with some older boy who played an accordion, then so be it.
"She has my blessing," he muttered. "She can bug him from now on."
He could finally pursue a Beethoven-esque bachelorhood in peace and focus only on his music. He could still be friends with Lucy and invite her to his Beethoven parties and concerts, but she would probably be less inclined to come over now that she had no thought of romance towards him, or she might bring her accordionist with her as a plus-one, if she visited at all. With Sebastian Baxter in Lucy's life, she would have no reason to hang around Schroeder anymore.
…So why did that thought make Schroeder scowl until he resembled one of his many busts of Beethoven?
The formal living room was reserved for when Lucy's parents entertained guests, filled with the best furniture in the house and kept spotless at all times. As a rule it had been off limits to the Van Pelt siblings when they had been small. One of the perks of being the eldest child, however, was that Lucy had been the first to be granted entrance to this inner sanctum, provided she behaved herself.
With her brothers occupied in front of the television, Lucy slipped into the quiet room and switched on a single white-shaded lamp, illuminating the comfortable sofas and armchairs, Mom's pool table with the tangerine cloth, and a varnished cabinet with a built-in record player. Lucy headed toward the latter, kneeling to open the small door to reveal her parents' variegated collection of records. She gently pulled out a few albums before she found the one she wanted: Forgotten Beethoven, a collection of "lesser known works from 'An Laura' to 'Geliebten.'"
Dad had gotten it a few years ago in a game of White Elephant at his company's Christmas party; he had chosen to hang onto it instead of exchanging it for a pair of golf gloves because he thought Lucy might enjoy it. While Lucy had received it joyously at first, she had never listened to it, and it still looked new.
As she gazed at the gold-leaf text and glossy portrait of Beethoven on the cover, she remembered how she had called Schroeder, inviting him to come over to listen to it with her, but he had pretended to have a bad connection and hung up. After that, Lucy had stuck the album with her parents' records and had forgotten about it, until now.
"Seven hundred and twenty-two works, huh?" she mused aloud, regarding Beethoven's staring eyes as though he were her opponent on the other side of a tennis court. Actually, she probably could have beaten Beethoven in a game of tennis, if the composer had known how to play her favorite sport, but that would never have won Schroeder's heart. The only thing that could impress him, even with the Western Cowboy Effect (or whatever it was called) in place, was to give Beethoven an actual chance.
"I probably won't find anything to make me a Beethoven nut like him," she reasoned, "but this way I can tell Schroeder I did my very best to meet him halfway."
Feeling rather like a little kid forced to choke down a bowl of spinach before she could get a promised dessert, Lucy pulled out the practically new vinyl and arranged it on the record player before she switched on the machine.
"For you, Schroeder," she sighed resignedly, placing the needle on the spinning disc.
Violet gave Schroeder a sweeping glance, momentarily forgetting the rough draft of a newspaper article which she was currently attacking with a red pen. She leaned back in her chair, thinning her lips. As a good student who took the initiative with assignments, Violet often came to the newsroom during her free periods to assist the eighth grader who was the editor-in-chief, and she had become a sort of unofficial second-in-command.
"Your camera?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "I need it for a story I want to cover for the paper."
"But I thought you were going to stay on sabbatical leave until your big concert was over," she pointed out.
"I got a nose for news," Schroeder answered with a mild shrug. "That's why I need my camera, Violet."
She narrowed her eyes with suspicion.
"What's the story?" she questioned slowly. "Something with Beethoven?"
Schroeder kept his face neutral. "Wait and see."
"Better be good," Violet warned. She stood and went over to the cabinet where the newspaper's small collection of cameras were kept. "We can't waste the school's film on silly stuff again."
"You had no problem when I covered your dance recital last month," he reminded her, accepting the camera with his name printed on a peelable label. Although he and Violet were sometimes at odds, they had worked together on school papers since Birchwood Elementary. Schroeder had been rightly confident that she would not ask too many questions if he requested his equipment back.
"Try to limit any photographs about music stuff to three or four this time," she reminded him. "The editor is still sore that you went through a whole roll just on that Beethoven bust which you got the music store downtown to donate to the school."
"Duly noted."
Out in the hall, Schroeder paused to check over his camera, but now that he had it, he began to feel foolish as he considered his next move.
He had spent a lifetime avoiding anything which could potentially give Lucy the wrong impression of his feelings towards her, even going so far as to refuse valentines, yet at the first opportunity he had pounced upon a scheme which could potentially fire off mixed signals like they were a Fourth of July extravaganza.
But this is a peace offering, he reminded himself.
Down the hall, muffled chatter droned from the cafeteria where the first lunch period drew closer to its conclusion. Schroeder had been in there just ten minutes prior, lunch bag in hand despite his lack of appetite. A quick scan of the cafeteria, however, showed no signs of the head of raven locks which he had been hoping to spy. He had considered checking the nurse's office, just to make sure she was not sick, but he already knew where she likely was.
With Sebastian Baxter.
Again.
He had sat down, pulling out his lunch with disinterest. He had considered going to the music room like usual, but he had not been in the mood for yet another run-through of Wellington's Victory. Every time he considered going to the music room during his lunch period, he remembered how hurt Lucy had been when she had stormed out that last time.
I didn't really apologize for that, he had sighed to himself as he had nibbled along the crust of his peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich. He had tried to reconcile with Lucy, but he had not gotten around to it, too distracted with getting her to let him help her with the Beethoven debate. He had not even congratulated her on joining the debate team. It had not even occurred to him to be happy for her, and yet Lucy had rarely missed any of his concerts, and she supported him in many of his other hobbies, like when he had decided to join the middle-school paper as a photographer.
…And in a flash, Schroeder had visualized a complete plan, and he had quickly returned his food to the paper bag, hurrying off to find Violet.
Gazing at his camera now, Schroeder formulated his next few steps. He knew Sebastian would be up in the debate room during the second lunch period. Maybe Schroeder could hang around on the third floor until he showed up — maybe Lucy would be with the captain — and then Schroeder could ask if he might be allowed to take some photos of tomorrow's debate. Then, maybe, he could ask to have a private word with Lucy, and then he would say something nice to her.
Maybe if things went back to normal between them, she would start coming to his house again.
A few kids began to appear in the halls, headed to and from the cafeteria. Schroeder started walking toward the nearest stairwell, and he checked the focus of the camera.
When he peered through the viewfinder, he spotted them.
There, in the rectangular frame, walking in the corridor that was perpendicular to the one where Schroeder stood, Lucy hugged a few books to her chest, and she talked to Sebastian with a look of complete focus. He carried his accordion case, and he listened to Lucy with a sort of amused, interested smile.
Schroeder lowered his camera.
They were not heading toward the stairwell, he noticed; so where else could they be headed?
His feet had turned toward them before he realized it.
"Peace offering," he said softly to himself. "Peace offering."
He followed them along the curve of the hallway outside the school's auditorium, and Sebastian stopped by the double doors, pulling one open.
"The janitor lets me sneak in here sometimes to try out the acoustics," Sebastian told Lucy as Schroeder approached. "I won't be too long. I want to run through the piece for my dad at least once."
Schroeder stopped in his tracks, hesitating. Logic told him that he ought to approach before Sebastian started playing his accordion, but, looking at the comfortable way the pair walked, Schroeder wondered if he would be interrupting something other than an accordion practice if he approached now — and that thought made him wince.
Meanwhile, Lucy formed a small frown at her companion.
"I still don't understand why you didn't stand up to the chess club instead of letting them use our room this period, Captain," she declared. "We could've debated our way out of it."
"It's better not to annoy kids carrying chess boards — those little chess pieces are hard to swallow," he quipped. "Besides, they still have to wait for everything to dry after the fire sprinklers accidentally went off in their room, right?"
Lucy shook her head. "You know, for the captain of a debate team, you're one of the least argumentative people I know."
"I've learned when to pick my battles, Lucy," Sebastian grinned back.
He started inside, and Lucy followed him. Schroeder hung back, still deliberating, then, deciding to risk an earache, he ducked in after them.
Although Sebastian had already hit one of the light switches, the auditorium was mostly dim as he and Lucy headed down to the stage, and Schroeder felt like a weirdo to be following the pair without their notice.
But it's not weird for a photographer from the paper to approach members of the debate team, he told himself. He would just wait until he was close enough, clear his throat, say he saw them go into the auditorium, and then ask to take a picture of them getting ready for their debate. Nothing weird about that at all.
Meanwhile, Sebastian had reached the stage and led Lucy up the side steps, and she helpfully turned on the brighter lights just above, blasting bright yellow beams on them while the rest of the auditorium remained in partial darkness. A few chairs had been left by the drama club, and Sebastian sank into one while Lucy pulled two over to him, one for her books and the other for herself. She took the one on top and began flipping through it. Even from a distance, the several strips of paper which she had used for bookmarks were visible.
"You're really getting into researching," Sebastian noted as he pulled out his accordion. "Lillian was even saying the other day that you're pretty driven, and she's one of the most tenacious people I know, once her mind is made up."
"I don't mind putting in the effort, Cap," Lucy insisted. "Why, when I was a kid, I got a blue ribbon in the science fair because I meticulously studied the psychological effects of my brother's blanket on his mind. And when I had to prepare for my skate club's Christmas show, I got up around five every morning and went with my partner down to the pond to practice."
"Lucy, you're unparalleled," Sebastian grinned, giving her a look of genuine admiration.
"When I want something, I'll go to any lengths to get it," she declared, "and I want to win tomorrow."
"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you whenever we're on opposing teams then," he quipped. He slipped the accordion strap over his shoulders. "Are you sure you don't want to meet up later though? Toccata and Fugue in D Minor can take almost ten minutes to complete, and that's assuming I don't make a bunch of mistakes."
"I've sat through longer," Lucy shrugged. "Besides, I have my books to read."
"Then I'll buy you a cup of cocoa after school for being so patient," Sebastian offered.
Schroeder frowned without meaning to and straightened his shoulders. With the bright lights beaming on the stage, he deduced that the pair probably would not spot him until he was closer. He opened his mouth to call to them — and Sebastian plunged straight into the potent opening toccata.
The accordion notes cut through the air with such intensity that Schroeder nearly dropped the camera, automatically covering his nearly spun around and ran out, like he would have done a week ago, but, gritting his teeth, he forced one foot to slide forward.
Beethoven wouldn't have been outdone by an accordion, he told himself.
Pretending he had to rescue a dying animal, Schroeder shuffled down the slanted aisle a few more rows, his eyes fixed on the stage. Mercifully, Lucy suddenly said something, and Sebastian ceased his playing.
"Oh, you didn't have to stop," Lucy said as Schroeder gratefully lowered his hands. "I'm used to musicians multitasking between conversation and practicing."
"How many musicians do you know?" Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.
"…Quite a lot of my friends play instruments, come to think of it," Lucy said, tilting her head with mild surprise. "Schroeder, Snoopy, Charlie Brown, Pig Pen, Franklin, Marcie…"
"Like I told you, though, I don't consider myself a musician, just a hobbyist, so I can take a few minutes to talk to a lady." He closed the bellows of his accordion and leaned an arm against the top. "So, what did you say?"
"I only asked if you always play Bach for your father," Lucy replied, closing her book around her finger to mark her page. "Do you ever play any Beethoven? Or Brahms or Sherbert?"
Sebastian chuckled good-naturedly. "You mean Schubert?"
She shrugged. "I've heard it pronounced different ways."
Not from me, Schroeder inwardly snarked, rolling his eyes. He continued forward softly, intending to speak before Sebastian started playing again.
"Dad's pretty set in his ways," Sebastian answered Lucy, sliding a finger along the billows. "Playing another composer can be hit or miss with him. I tried Vivalid's 'Winter' one year, because the allegro non molto sounds super cool on the accordion. He tried to be polite about it, but the entire time he looked like he wanted someone to put him out of his misery. But if you play Bach, he perks up and applauds. He can sit through any instrument that plays Bach."
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "I got the impression he liked your accordion."
"I'm sure he does, in his own way."
Lucy frowned. "Then why bother playing something for his birthday every year?"
"Because my dad likes Bach," he said mildly, "so I play Bach."
He pressed a few white keys on the keyboard portion, but since he was not working the bellows, he only produced a clicking sort of sound.
"Like Oma says, you gotta compromise for the people who matter to you."
Lucy sat back in her chair, and her eyes narrowed further. "Children shouldn't have to compromise for their parents. Parents are supposed to show an interest in their kids, no matter what."
"I don't disagree with you, Lucy," Sebastian said evenly. "It's just that Bach was there for Dad long before I came onto the scene." He pressed a few more keyboards, following the notes of the toccata. "Classical music is everything to Dad, and Bach is how he communicates with people. If I want to have a conversation with my father, I have to speak his language."
"I know that feeling," Lucy said, looking away.
Schroeder had almost reached the stage, but at these last words he stopped in his tracks. He lifted his head, frowning.
Sebastian studied Lucy.
"Do you?" he asked.
Lucy pursed her lips in a pout, but it was not her usual crabby, sulking expression which Schroeder had seen a thousand times. A stony anger laid in her eyes, mingled with something else that made Lucy distractedly turn a few pages of her book.
"You know, like how there are certain people on this planet who should pay attention to you, but they don't. They should jump at the chance to spend time with you, but they have better things to do. They ought to listen to you, but they never do, no matter how loud you scream."
Schroeder winced.
Sebastian watched her with a gentle but slightly grim understanding. He quietly slipped his accordion straps off and placed his instrument to the side before he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He gave her a kind look.
"I'm listening, Lucy."
Lucy blinked a few times at him, then scoffed. "It's not the same, now is it?"
"Better than nothing though, right?" He reached out to pat her arm in a friendly way. "Any time you want to talk, I'll listen."
She quietly leveled her gaze with his, and he drew back, looking suddenly sheepish.
"Well, as team captain, I always try to help my members when I can, you know."
"I figured," Lucy answered in a tone which Schroeder could not decipher. After regarding Sebastian for another moment, she asked, "Does your dad ever come to watch your debates, Captain?"
Sebastian leaned back, shaking his head. "My mom and grandmother have, but I don't think Dad really cares about debates."
"But you're the captain," Lucy pressed. "Isn't he interested in that?"
"Classical music comes first," Sebastian said, leaning down to pat his accordion. "If Dad doesn't focus on his work, we don't eat, so…" He shrugged. "It's just better to play second fiddle to Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven than to make a big deal about it, I guess."
Lucy scoffed again, flipping a page. "And I know that feeling too."
"A girl like you shouldn't," Sebastian answered quietly.
He lifted his eyes then, giving her a subtle glance, but she had already returned to her books, thinning her lips. Sebastian seemed to accept that the conversation was over because he reached once again for his accordion.
Schroeder silently drew back. He looked at his camera, grimacing, then turned, creeping back up the aisle.
Sonata in D minor, K1 on accordion — If you're curious, you can look up "Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, K 1, L 366 - Martynas Levickis" on YouTube.
Vivaldi's "Winter" on accordion— I highly recommend alexandr hrustevich's YouTube video of his stellar performance, "VIVALDI Concerto for violin No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 8, Winter': I. Allegro non molto." (Of course, Sebastian uses a piano accordion rather than a button accordion like Hrustevich, but you can see how he would be inspired to try out that piece on his instrument.)