Although Lucy did not mind having live accordion music while she studied, she was glad when Sebastian finally made a deep bow to Snoopy at the close of their song.
"Indeed, you are a worthy musician, Mr. Dog," he said, "but I really must get back to studying. It's unfair to Lucy to make her handle the bulk of the work."
"I concur," Lucy said with a cool toss of her head. With Lillian at a dentist appointment that afternoon, it fell upon her and Sebastian to study for their team, and the beagle had already monopolized enough of her partner's time.
Snoopy stood up straight and saluted, turning smartly on his furry heel. As he walked away, he started playing "La Vie en Rose," swinging his snout side to side with the music. Sebastian watched him with a bemused smile.
"Well, I certainly didn't put 'play a duet with a beagle' on my to-do list this morning," he told Lucy as he unslung his accordion straps.
"Hang around this neighborhood long enough, and you'll get used to weird stuff," she said, passing him one of the biographies which he had brought over.
"Thank you for being so indulgent." He formed an apologetic smile. "I really only meant to do the one run-through of my Bach piece, but a dog with an accordion is hard to ignore."
"Beware beagles bearing musical instruments," she advised with a roll of her eyes.
"I'll have to remember that." He laid the accordion within its case, which had a piece of tape with RHONDA written neatly in marker on one side, and grabbed his nearby notebook and a pencil, then balanced his Beethoven biography on his leg. "But I really am trying to be mindful of your time, Lucy. I know you're probably going to have dinner soon."
He said it so politely that any lingering annoyance in Lucy's mind receded.
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said with a wave of her hand. "Mom has her meeting with the Welfare League tonight, so all I have to do is warm up a few frozen dinners for my brothers and me."
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "Your mom sure has a lot of charities and leagues."
"She's a modern woman, always making the future brighter for the world's children." Lucy flipped a page, then looked up again as she got an idea. "Say, Captain, if you want to stay for supper and study, I'll fix you a frozen dinner too. Our deep freeze is crammed full of them."
"That is a mighty fine offer, Lucy. I may take you up on it — if it's okay with my mom," he added quickly, looking down at his book with an awkward clearing of his throat.
Lucy returned her attention to the biography on her lap, which she had been studying for nearly thirty minutes. While Sebastian had been playing, she had managed to read through two more chapters. Although most of the facts were things she had already learned from Schroeder or her own private readings she had undertaken in order to impress her beloved, this biography delved into details about the composer which would have probably made Schroeder start ranting about unqualified historians.
According to this biography, Beethoven had an aggressive temper and was rude to servants and wait staff, even going so far as to pour a bowl of hot gravy on a waiter. He was a bad neighbor and tenant, always making loud noises long into the night, and while at home he would pour water on his head, which dripped onto whomever had the misfortune to be on the floor below his apartment. The thing which annoyed Lucy most, however, was his arrogance. When talking to a prince one day — an actual prince — Beethoven had declared, 'There are, and there always will be thousands of princes. There is only one Beethoven."
But if I ever said, 'There is only one Lucy Van Pelt,' Schroeder would roll his eyes and tell me I was full of myself, she brooded. She turned a page to see the famous portrait of the composer done by Joseph Karl Stieler. Beethoven stared back at her with stern eyes, posed with the manuscript of Missa solemnis, and Lucy matched his scowl.
Beethoven poured hot gravy on a poor waiter, but Schroeder never calls him a crabby fussbudget.
"Hey, Captain?" Lucy twisted toward Sebastian. "How exactly are we supposed to argue objectively about a topic that's subjective? What if we can't actually prove that Beethoven isn't overrated?"
Sebastian looked up from his notes with a smile. "A debate runs on the subjective, which is part of the fun."
"How so?"
He shifted his position on the porch, stretching out his legs over the shallow steps. "Like it says in the rulebook, there's a difference between a fact and a claim. A fact is something that's an established truth, like 'the Earth revolves around the sun.' A claim might be something like, oh say, 'We should stop giving tax dollars towards astronomical research because knowing that the Earth revolves around the sun does not alter people's day-to-day lives.' We debaters would therefore argue for or against the claim. If claims weren't subjective, we wouldn't have debates in the first place."
"I can understand that part," Lucy answered, leaning against the porch railing, "but earlier you suggested that we take the angle of showing how Beethoven enriches people's lives. What if you know somebody who models his life after Beethoven to the point that he skips meals just to play the piano? How can you in good conscience argue that Beethoven enriches his life?"
Sebastian formed a wry grin. "You're always going to come across people who take things too far, Lucy, especially in the music world, but even if some zealots go overboard, we can still argue that Beethoven's music helps people, when taken in moderation. After all, too much rain makes a flood, but you wouldn't want to get rid of the rain altogether."
"Maybe so," Lucy conceded reluctantly.
"As for the zealots taking things too far," Sebastian continued, running a finger along the page of his book, "often there is a reason why they feel strongly about their music. If you mock or berate them, they'll double down and dive deeper into their passion, but if you let yourself see things from their perspective, perhaps you can help guide them back toward a happy middle ground."
"But what if you fall off the deep end yourself?"
"Better to err on the side of empathy than cruelty," Sebastian said mildly. "Sometimes, if you care for somebody, you have to meet them halfway, even in the music world."
Lucy held back her frustrated sigh. She glanced again at the frowning portrait before she asked Sebastian, "Why would you say that Beethoven isn't overrated?"
Sebastian leaned back, glancing up at the passing clouds.
"To tell you the truth, I actually prefer Mozart or Vivaldi to Beethoven," he contemplated, "but if you twisted my arm — and my mother was on her deathbed, and my little sisters had two months to live, and my brothers were starving on the street, and my accordion was held hostage by Beethoven fanatics — I suppose I could say that if you didn't like Beethoven, it's probably because you just hadn't yet found a work that speaks to you personally."
Lucy snorted. "And what if someone's listened to a bunch of his works, and she still doesn't like him?"
"This person has listened to all seven hundred and twenty-two of his works?" Sebastian mildly challenged.
Lucy opened her mouth to retort, but she paused and thought about it. Had she heard Schroeder play all of Beethoven's works? She knew he probably liked to practice Für Elise, Moonlight Sonata and the Fifth Symphony the most, and he played his albums with the Ninth Symphony every year for Beethoven's birthday, and sometimes around Easter he liked to listen to the Seventh Symphony. Lucy would not have been surprised if he had all seven-hundred and twenty-two works memorized, but she had never kept count.
I suppose that's why Schroeder thinks I haven't given Beethoven a fair chance then, she reflected, frowning again at the portrait of the composer. Even though she doubted that listening to all of Beethoven's works would have made her like his music more, she had not allowed herself the chance to say she had heard every last one. That was like coming to a debate without properly researching one's arguments; she must have seemed so unreasonable to Schroeder for all these years.
An unreasonable sister figure, she flinched. She turned back to Sebastian. "For the sake of argument, what sort of Beethoven works are you interested in, Captain?"
He tossed his head side to side.
"Hmmm, well, my little sisters are working on the first movement from the 'Archduke' piano trio for their recital," he said slowly. "It's kinda peaceful to listen to while you're doing homework. I'm not too fond of Für Elise or Moonlight Sonata when played on the piano, but they're pretty good on the accordion." He paused and grinned at Lucy. "But I'm of the opinion that a lot of songs sound better on the accordion."
She smiled a little. "Maybe you could bring your accordion to the debate to make your point."
Sebastian chuckled. "You would think that would work, wouldn't you? But, alas, Gene is one of the judges this week, and he cares more about us citing a lot of sources than hearing quality music. And remember, Walter is on the opposing team, and I don't call him the 'fiercest lion of our pride' because he was born in a zoo."
Lucy winced. "You wouldn't think he was the same guy once he gets behind the lectern. How does he do it?"
"It's because he can follow a script, though he's pretty good at improvising with his rebuttals too." Sebastian had grown up down the street from Walter, and so he was quite familiar with the nuances of his friend's social anxiety. "Walter says he finds it easier to talk at people, rather than to them."
"Sounds like my mother."
Lucy turned back to her book, but as she did, a bit of purple and yellow caught her eye, and she looked up to see Schroeder striding down the sidewalk, his face set in a (downright adorable, to be honest) look of determination. Despite her heart leaping in her chest at the mere sight of him, Lucy stiffened, then shot a furtive glance at Sebastian, realizing the awkward position this would put her in if Schroeder decided to start talking about Beethoven. If Sebastian accepted Schroeder's help, Schroeder would be hanging around until the Friday debate, and even that little bit of time around Lucy might delay the cure for the Western Movie Effect (or whatever it was called). Then she would have to spend that much more time away from him.
She quickly smiled at Sebastian.
"Hey, Captain, would you mind playing some Beethoven?" she suggested. "Hearing his music on an accordion might inspire me."
"For you, anything," he replied, putting aside the notebook. Grabbing his instrument, he slipped the strap over his head once more. He paused, seeming to be deliberating on what he wanted to play, before he started up a cheerful rendition of "Ode to Joy."
Lucy turned in time to see Schroeder visibly wince, rather like a dog discovering the boundaries of an invisible fence. Schroeder could not even tolerate an accordion playing Beethoven, finding the very notion an insult to both the composer and his own personal honor. Her beloved boy took several labored breaths, covering his sensitive ears, but then he dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them, and continued a shaky march toward her house.
Lucy bit her lip, struggling to think of a more effective deterrent. How did a crabby, unmovable object deflect an unstoppable, Beethoven-loving force?
If only he were that determined to see me, instead of wanting to force his way into our meeting just to talk about his stupid Beethoven.
…Unless — oh, unless! — he really had realized how much he missed her and had come to see her because he could not stand living another moment without her, even if it meant going up against an accordion!
Lucy scrambled to her feet, feeling her heart swell with hope and longing. "I'll be right back, Captain."
Although hearing Beethoven played on the accordion was akin to listening to nails on a chalkboard to Schroeder's sharp ears, the familiar melody of the Choral Symphony allowed him to focus his mind on marching closer to the cacophony.
O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! he repeated to himself with a sense of irony, having never found the words more fitting. Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freundevollere…
He almost did not see Lucy approaching, but instead of the defiant stormcloud he had been expecting, she strolled up to him with a sunny smile.
"What brings you here, Schroeder?" she hummed as she reached him. "Is it something important, hmm?"
He paused, not quite sure how to respond. Part of him wondered if the accordion player was the reason for her unexpected good mood. Schroeder quickly jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
"Charlie Brown is hanging out in my living room because your booth has been closed," he told her, saying the first excuse he could think of. "Are you going to get a replacement soon?"
"Oh. Right." She looked momentarily disappointed. "Tell him I'm still looking for a good assistant to fill in for me — unless you want to help me again," she added thoughtfully.
"Last time, everyone hated my advice," he reminded her. Back when they were six or seven, he had briefly manned her psychiatry booth because Lucy had needed to take some time off to herself. Schroeder had offered perfectly sensible suggestions, like listening to Brahms or Handel in order to lift their glum moods, but his patients had kept demanding their nickels back.
"Try offering them useful advice in addition to telling them to play classical music," Lucy recommended. "You're pretty good at giving me advice when you're not thinking about Beethoven."
"Not that you ever follow it," he snorted.
"I didn't say you were perfect — even though you look perfect," she said, tucking her arms behind her back and giving him that sugary smile which he had seen so many times throughout his life.
Schroeder rolled his eyes, but even so a small part was glad to see her acting like her old self. That twinkle in her gaze was just as natural to Lucy as her crabby ways, if only slightly more preferable.
…But then Schroeder felt his insides jolt with realization when she took a small step forward, closing the distance between them.
"Is Charlie Brown the only reason why you're here, Schroeder?" she asked, searching his face. Her eyes brimmed with hope and just a little pleading.
Too late, Linus's words came ringing back to Schroeder: Until you're actually fond of my sister, just stay absent.
He glanced toward the accordion player, then back to the hopeful girl, beginning to connect the available dots.
Had that been why her brother had been so vague yesterday? Lucy was on the cusp of genuinely falling for another boy (without using him to inspire jealousy in Schroeder, as he had previously supposed), and so Linus had been discreetly warning Schroeder not to lead her on with mixed signals that could potentially ruin her chances of moving on from her unrequited feelings? In which case, Schroeder might have just stumbled upon… not so much a study session, but a study date. And if that were true…
Schroeder drew in a discreet breath and wiped his face of discomfort, but his chest felt weird from a sensation that had nothing to do with the reedy music flooding the air.
"Why else would I come near an accordion?" he answered flatly, rolling his eyes.
Lucy drew back, her face altering.
"Maybe just to please me," she shot back, "because I like accordion music and I make compromises for you all the time."
Schroeder frowned. "I never asked you to."
Lucy jerked her head away, folding her arms. "Well, if you're going to come to my house, you could try to tolerate what I like, for a change."
Seeing a way out of this awkward situation, Schroeder at once brightened.
"Why don't I start now?" he answered lightly, stepping around her and making a beeline for her team captain.
"Hey, wait—!" Lucy started to squawk, but she covered her mouth and broke into a jog after him.
Thankfully, the captain stopped playing as Schroeder approached, and he removed his instrument, laying it aside before he stood. He wore a polite expression, but Schroeder had a strange feeling that the older boy was sizing him up.
Schroeder matched his polite look as he halted on the front walk. "Hello there. You must be Lucy's team captain."
"Sebastian Baxter," the other introduced himself evenly.
Schroeder started to respond in kind, but he had barely managed to say his surname when Lucy caught hold of his arm, wearing a frown.
"You probably don't want to hang around here, Schroeder. Why don't you run along?"
"Oh, I don't mind," he said, ignoring the dirty look she shot him. Shrugging her off, he gestured toward the stack of books. "Lucy says you guys are having a debate about Beethoven?"
"Certainly. Lucy and I have been doing a lot of research so far." Sebastian grabbed the top book and held it up for Schroeder to see.
Schroeder found himself smiling with approval. "Hey, I have that one!"
"I'm borrowing it from my dad," Sebastian said. "He sells them in his shop downtown."
Schroeder's head snapped up, eyes widening with sudden clarity. "Wait, Sebastian Baxter… As in Baxter's Music Emporium?"
"Got it in one," Sebastian answered as he set the book down again.
Schroeder brightened, marveling at the small world.
"I got my console piano from your dad!" he beamed. "He's also the one who sold me most of my sheet music, and he was able to get me a closet full of Beethoven busts at the bulk price."
Lucy's eyes widened. "Huh, I always figured you got those dumb statues from the Sears and Roebuck catalog."
Schroeder ignored the insult against his prized collection. "And because I'm a repeat customer, I got to go to your dad's summer workshop for young music lovers about Johann Sebastian Bach!"
"Ah," said Sebastian, leaning back. "So you're that Schroeder. I thought the name sounded familiar."
Lucy nudged Schroeder's side. "Look, Schroeder, you're famous. You probably paid for Sebastian's accordion single-handedly!"
"I'm hardly responsible for what Mr. Baxter does with my money after he has it," Schroeder replied before he addressed Sebastian again. "Man, I thought I had a good grasp on Bach's life, but I learned a lot from your dad. That antique wax cylinder with 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' that he played for us could be in a museum!"
"He's a leading authority on all things Bach and has written three books," the older boy said mildly. "I doubt even Bach knew as much about Bach as Dad does."
"Yeah, and your dad was nice enough to autograph my copies of his books," Schroeder grinned.
Sebastian slid his hands into his pockets, and although he remained polite, he seemed to give Schroeder another appraising look.
"And I suppose that means you're the Beethoven-enthusiastic musician friend who Lucy's told me about," he deduced.
"Not that I talked about Schroeder that often," Lucy jumped in quickly, stiffening. "Only in passing, really."
Schroeder glanced at her, frowning at her awkward stance and her averted gaze — since when had Lucy ever vehemently denied talking about him when he was not around? — but he turned his attention back to Sebastian.
"Well, I've been interested in Beethoven since I was a little kid," he said. "If you need any help researching, I don't mind loaning you guys my books."
"Cool, thanks." Sebastian gave a thumbs up. "My dad has a pretty extensive library just on non-Bach composers, but feel free to pass your books onto Lucy, or you can bring them to the debate room during the second-lunch period tomorrow. I'm usually up there in case anyone has questions or my team wants to practice."
"I might just do that."
"I don't think you'll want to, Schroeder," Lucy insisted. "The captain practices his accordion for his dad's birthday during that time."
Schroeder flinched, but though he tried to hide it, Sebastian seemed to catch his discomfort.
"What, are you allergic to accordions?" he quipped.
"Close," said Lucy, rolling her eyes.
Schroeder shrugged, choosing to conceal his more overt distaste for the instrument around someone related to Mr. Baxter.
"Nothing personal. I just have excellent hearing, so certain sounds and pitches are super uncomfortable. The accordion just happens to be among those sounds."
"Makes sense," said Sebastian with a charitable nod. "My dad hates both the theremin and the musical saw because he says they make his teeth feel weird." He then turned to Lucy with a playful smirk. "So guess which instruments my genius little brothers asked to get for their last birthday?"
"How did your dad react?" she asked.
"He put his foot down, naturally," Sebastian chortled, "but then Oma — my mom's mom — got on his case about it, saying you have to make compromises for the ones you love, so Dad finally gave in and bought them the instruments. He actually hunted around a few hardware stores and took a cello bow with him in order to find just the right saw for Carl."
"Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman," Lucy smiled. She started to give Schroeder a knowing look, but she quickly averted her gaze again, planting her hands on her hips as though determined to do something (or perhaps not to do something).
"Dad's built up endurance since then," Sebastian continued. "He can usually handle their practices if they play Bach."
"Is your dad that into Bach?" Lucy asked in amazement.
Sebastian tucked one arm behind his back and lifted his nose in the air, mimicking a dignified expression which Schroeder had often seen on Mr. Baxter whenever he waxed eloquent about music.
"Dad has modeled his whole life after the ways of Johann Sebastian Bach!" he declared, copying his father's speech pattern to the point that he dropped in the German pronunciation of Bach's name. He laid his other hand against his chest. "At the tender age of three, Dad, a burgeoning child prodigy, discovered the majesty of the composer and never looked back. What Bach studied, he studied. What Bach ate, he ate. Bach's birthday was as dear to him as his own, and at the age of seven, he would go around his neighborhood with a petition to have it recognized as a national holiday. Here a Bach — there a Bach — everywhere a Bach, Bach."
Lucy nudged Schroeder. "Sound familiar?"
Schroeder ignored her. "But your dad certainly achieved his dream."
"I suppose," replied Sebastian, regaining his polite expression. He sat back down on the porch step and began checking his accordion's buttons for dust.
Lucy turned to Schroeder and gave him a slight push. "Thanks for stopping by, Schroeder, but we really need to get back to work, and you probably need to get back to practicing for your Beethoven concert."
"Well, I—" he started to say, but Lucy gave him another push, sending him staggering down the front walk.
"And tell Charlie Brown I'll try to get an assistant to meet with him soon," Lucy called after him before she joined Sebastian on the porch steps.
Schroeder straightened his striped T-shirt and reluctantly started down the sidewalk. The further he got, the more he began to realize what had just happened. In his fervor for protecting Beethoven's honor, he had actually gone up to a strange kid and offered to loan him his books about the composer — and that kid turned out to be the son of the very music vendor who had sold Schroeder most of his books in the first place, meaning Schroeder had essentially offered to bring coal to Newcastle.
Schroeder's face grew steadily inflamed, but he tried to focus on the positive. If Sebastian was related to an accomplished music instructor like Mr. Baxter — who was highly respected in the musical community at large — then Sebastian was likely to steer his debate team along the correct path. The club captain had all the resources he needed to floor the competition and defend Beethoven properly.
I guess Lucy really doesn't need my help for the debate then.
After Friday, the debate team would pick their next topic, likely something that did not involve classical music, so there would be no need for Schroeder to offer his help again. Lucy would continue hanging out with her new friends, especially the captain, and she would have no reason to give Schroeder a second thought.
…And Schroeder did not know how to feel about that.
"But I'm of the opinion that a lot of songs sound better on the accordion." — Incidentally, check out Vinheteiro's YouTube vid, "How Does a Classical Piano Piece Sound on Accordion?"
Theremin and musical saw — If you're curious, check out the YouTube video, "Theremin & Musical saw duet: Passacaglia (J. Halvorsen) / Grégoire Blanc"