Marcie did not come to school Wednesday. Charlie never caught her after the game. She moved quickly. He was hoping she would meet him to walk to school, but he was left stranded. He had called her last night, but there was no answer. He had to explain what had happened last night. Or the lack of what happened last night with Heather. He kissed Marcie and Heather both on the same night. He thought that was impossible. To be fair, Heather was the one who kissed him on the cheek, but it was more than he had ever expected.
He felt sick to his stomach. Charlie kept his head down as he moved through the halls, avoiding every compliment or congratulation anyone had to offer him. At lunch, he didn't bother walking to the cafeteria. Instead, he sat in the library by himself. Marcie would sometimes take her lunch in here during their freshman year. She had read every book in this library before the next year. Or it had at least seemed like it.
"There you are," a voice beckoned behind him. Heather was crossing between the shelves. "I have been looking to talk to you all day."
"Me?" Charlie asked.
"Of course." She laughed like an angel as she flipped her red hair back with the back of her hand. "I thought we should talk about what happened last night."
"Oh," was all Charlie could mutter.
"I didn't mean to cause a rift between you and Marcie," Heather sat down in the chair next to him, her knees pressing against his thighs. "I couldn't help but notice she was gone today."
"Yeah," he sighed.
"Did you guys break up?" she asked.
He perked up at that. Were they broken up? Was there anything to break up? Wasn't that the catch of the deal? "I...don't know," he answered honestly.
"Oh," Heather put a hand to her heart. "I hope it wasn't anything I did."
"No," Charlie said as a reflex. What else was he supposed to say? "Not at all." Heather relaxed at his words, skootching closer to him.
"That's too bad you don't know," she put a hand on his arm. "I kinda..." She took a breath and then shook her head. "Oh, never mind."
"What?" he asked, intrigued.
"Well," Heather blushed. "Ever since you and Marcie got together I've been...jealous."
He raised a brow. "Jealous?"
"Yeah," she admitted, twirling her red hair around her index finger. "I started to wonder what happened to us?"
"Us?" he repeated, his jaw dropping. He was too stunned to think of any real reply. Surely this had to be a dream. He had dreamt of a moment like this many times in the last few years, but he didn't recall falling asleep.
"Yeah," she shrugged. "We were so young back then. I guess I just didn't appreciate a good guy when I saw one."
Charlie gasped silently. "Are you sure you're talking about me?"
Heather laughed at him. "Yes, silly. Who else?"
"I just wasn't sure," he bit his lip.
"Well, I hope you figure things out with Marcie," Heather nodded, giving his arm another squeeze before standing. "You can always talk to me, Charlie. No need to be a stranger."
"Thanks, Heather."
She gave him another smile before leaving him to his now-spinning thoughts.
Marcie sat in her room, making up the homework she missed from today at school. She had called the office to give the assignments she could do at home. They were all pretty easy, but Marcie hadn't had the courage to do them until after school had been let out. Even as she was reading her algebra book, she just couldn't concentrate. Ever since last night, she felt like a skipping record.
Charles hadn't done anything wrong. in fact, what he did was right. Wasn't that the goal of this whole fake relationship? Charles would get the girl and Marcie would've had some memories to put in the grave with her crush on him. It was as simple as that. There was no way that Charles would've wanted more with Marcie. He had been too stuck on Heather, and Marcie wasn't dumb. But then there was the kiss...
Accidental or not, there was something about that kiss. Maybe it was because it was her first or just because it was unexpected, but she had felt a spark. It was something different than most of her feelings toward Charlie Brown. It was different. Almost magical. His face had proved her speculation when he had pulled away. He made her believe for just one moment that she was special and that she was the girl for him. And now she felt nothing at all.
Why hadn't he called? He always called her after a game, just to make sure she got home alright. Had one cheek kiss really thrown him so far off the tracks that he wasn't even her friend anymore? Looking at the current status of his relationship with Linus, Marice shouldn't be shocked by Charles's silence, but she believed him better than to leave him dangling by a thread. Or at least she believed in the old Charles.
A sudden nick of her window made her look up from her desk. Perhaps it was just the pattering rain outside. It had been one of the last rains of the fall season. The news predicted snow by the weekend. She turned back to her desk, and there came another. That was odd. She still didn't move, and then there was a full knock. Her heart leaped as she crossed to her window. Slowly, she pulled back the drape to see Charles standing outside, zipped up in a raincoat.
She opened the window silently. "Hey," Charles called out first. "I waited for you to walk this morning."
"I wasn't feeling good," Marcie said honestly.
"I figured," he looked down at his feet nervously. She was fearful of what he was going to say next.
"We don't have to pretend anymore," Marcie said before he could.
His eyes widened instantly. "What?"
"The plan worked, didn't it?" she recalled last night. The way Heather had her arms wrapped around him was simply possessive. "Heather is definitely into you."
"You think so?" he asked, hopeful. The look in his eyes made her feel sick. She nodded, watching a single raindrop fall onto his nose. "I wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she asked shortly. It would be easier this way. "It's not like we were actually together." His expression softened at that. She noted his eyes falling to her lips, then rising again.
"Okay," Charlie nodded. "Then this is over?"
"You don't have to pretend any longer," Marcie confirmed. There was a long silence, filled with the pattering rain against the soft wet grass.
"So," Charlie sighed, "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"At school," Marcie faked a grin. Charlie stared at her a moment longer before turning and walking out of her yard. Marcie slowly shut the window, watching him before pulling the drape back over. She then walked back to her desk, sat down, and let herself release a single tear. It slowly traveled down her cheek, She rubbed it with her thumb, staring at the droplet before wiping it on her pants.
Another day passed, and Lucy still didn't know what to write for her college application. What could she be? What would she be? She had tried to think of many possible outcomes. She wasn't particularly artsy. She definitely couldn't do hair as Sally had suggested, she didn't have the mindless social skills. Business sounded appealing, but she wasn't a huge fan of math. Medicine was something that Lucy thought she specialized in after patching up her brother for years but to make a career out of it? Not in her sights.
As her record spun to a stop, Lucy sighed. Maybe she could just own a record store. Then she could just listen to music for the rest of her life. "Music," Lucy clicked her tongue. No. She couldn't do that either. That would only remind her of the man she was supposed to be ignoring. It was hard to stop the obsession after all of these years. It was practically a part of who she was. Without Schroeder, who was she?
"Now that's ridiculous," she muttered to herself. Of course, she was her own person outside of Schroeder, she just didn't quite know how to fill the rather large gap he had left. She supposed she should've been used to the rejection by now, but this was different. For once, they had been together. They kissed, they laughed, and they trusted each other. Or at least she had trusted him. It was all just complicated, and yet it wasn't. She needed help.
"Help," she said her thought aloud. She pondered a moment. "Help," she repeated, nodding slightly. "Help!" she smiled widely as she turned back to her desk, scribbling away.
"Do you know what happened to Marcie?" Linus asked on Friday as he and Sally were getting their lunch. Marcie was back at school, but she seemed quieter than usual. Even now she was sitting at the table across from Patty, keeping her eyes down and her mouth closed.
"I'm not sure," Sally admitted. "Charlie hasn't said anything." The siblings were still on minimal speaking terms as far as Linus had known. Sally hasn't forgiven Charlie for his outbursts that night. Linus had to admit he still wasn't fond of his old friend at the moment, but there was still a part of him that hoped it would all work out.
"Does he say anything otherwise?" Linus asked.
"No," Sally shrugged. "He seems fine at family dinner, though. They both turned out to the lunch room, eyeing the jock table. Charlie sat next to Heather, telling her about something rather excitedly.
"You don't think they—"
"Split up?" Sally asked, Linus, nodded. "Maybe. He hasn't been using the phone so much anymore."
"When does he have the time with you in the house?"
"Hey, I only call you," Sally nudged him playfully. "My sweet babboo." He groaned with a slight grin as they got to the table. Sally widened her eyes as she saw Frieda in her seat across from Schroeder. Sally sat next to her smoothly, glancing at Linus a few times. They were both thinking the same thing. The latest of the coupe's phone calls have been on the topic of Schroeder's prospect to Frieda. As much as Linus didn't care for gossip, he couldn't help but develop multiple theories with Sally.
"So, when will you start practicing again?" Frieda asked, twirling her red hair around her finger. Linus could've groaned.
"I'm not sure," Schroeder admitted. "I guess without my left hand, nothing sounds very good."
"It's because you play all that complicated stuff," Peppermint Patty chimed in. "Why can't you just play a simple melody?"
"Or create an original?" Pig-Pen offered, tucking his long brunette hair behind his ears.
"What do I need to create an original for?" the pianist pondered aloud.
"To sell," Patty answered.
"To woo," Franklin suggested. Both Linus and Pig-Pen raised a brow at that. "What?" Franklin shrugged. "I think if someone wrote me a song, I would definitely put them in my favor."
Pig-Pen laughed at that. "What does your favor include?"
Franklin rolled his eyes at his closest friend, "You know what I meant."
"Did I?" The two companions continued their bickering as Linus began to eat his lunch.
"I'm not much of a composer," Schroeder muttered.
"I'm sure you could be," Sally assured with a smile.
"Yeah," Linus added. "If you found the right inspiration, the notes might just come to you. You could pull from anything. Happiness, sadness, disgust, fear, anger, or...love." Schroeder refused to look up from his plate.
"Oh, love songs are the best!" Frieda practically jumped up in her seat. Before there could be any response, Lucy crashed into her little brother. He nearly choked on his cracker as Lucy shook his arm crazily. He coughed, trying to regain his breath.
"Linus! Linus!" Lucy cried happily.
"Good grief," Linus coughed. "You're acting just like Sally."
Before his girlfriend could retort, Lucy shook her brother again. "I've submitted my application."
Now it was his turn to act giddy. "Really? That's great!" Linus hugged his sister. "What did you decide?"
"I'm gonna be a psychiatrist!" she declared. Immediately his mind traveled back in time to when his sister would sit out on the lawn at that handmade booth. She would give people advice for nickels, whether good or bad.
"That's perfect for you," Marcie said, speaking for the first time in two days. She drew the gang's attention easily with those four words. Franklin and Pig-Pen had postponed their argument to hear what she had to say. With all eyes on her, Marcie blushed. "I mean, you've always been trying to help others. In your own special way." She returned to her lunch as if everything was normal.
"You know," Peppermint Patty nodded, "Marcie's right. That sounds great for you." There was a harmonious agreement from all at the table.
Even Schroeder dared to look up at Lucy and offered congratulations. "That's great, Lucy," he said smoothly, although Linus could see the unease in his posture. This was the first time they had spoken since he had run out of the house. Lucy could only manage a nod to the blonde, quickly diverting back to Linus. "I thought you weren't going to go to school?" Schroeder asked, bringing her attention back to him.
"It depended on what her husband wanted," Sally grinned at Lucy. "I remember you told me that on the first day of school."
"Things have changed since then," Lucy tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think I'll just do what I want for now." There was a crack in Schroeder's expression. His lips twitched slightly as if holding back a true smile.
Noticing, Frieda shifted in her seat. "You're very brave. Many ladies don't have to provide for themselves."
"It's a good thing times are changing," Patty crossed her arms. "To think of a world where they wouldn't let me show you guys up in baseball. That would be crazy."
"Yes," Frieda clicked her tongue. "I suppose you're right."
Schroeder sat at the piano bench. He hadn't told Frieda he was coming here. Having some peace and quiet was nice after the long school day. Seeing Lucy being giddy and excited solidified the hole in his stomach. It was easier to forget about her when she refused to come to school and he was left with nothing but the memory of her telling him off. That look on her face broke his heart. He knew she cried as soon as the door slammed. That was the closest he had ever gotten to crying.
He groaned, noticing how water pricked his eyes now. Why was he so upset about her? It had been a week since the blowout. He should be happy. He should be jumping up and down in this empty piano room. This was a blessing more than anything. He was back to being a bachelor, like Beethoven. That was who he was meant to be, like his idol. He was never supposed to go and fall in love.
"Woah," he said aloud. Did he really just think that? Of course, he hadn't fallen in love with Lucy. They were only together for about a day before they...if it was even a breakup. Was there anything to break? They didn't really put a label on it now that Schroeder thought about it. They were just Schroeder and Lucy.
His mind went back to that night in the car. Schroeder felt his heart sink at the memory of her lips on his. The boy touched his mouth with his good hand, where she had smeared her lipstick. He looked at the necklace in his palm. At least she was moving on just fine. She looked pretty well, for the most part. He hoped she was eating alright. If there was anything he worried about, it was her eating. He kept his word and hadn't told a single soul, but it couldn't stop him from worrying.
"Good grief," Schroeder sighed. "Beethoven, help me." He took his right hand and began to play a piece. His pinky accidentally hit the wrong harmony when he hit the third note.
Instead of groaning, however, Schroeder continued to let his fingers search among the keys. A small, simple melody flowed. It was like none he had ever heard before. He held up the necklace so it rested in front of his eyes. He took a few glances and continued to play, adding new harmonies to this simple melody. When his hurt hand itched to play, he would squeeze the charm, forcing his right hand to play on.
Schroeder's heart began to race as he reached some sort of bridge. When he played classics, he would feel nothing but the passion he had for the music. This was different, however. Instead of trying to feel what the composer was trying to put into his notes, Schroeder was playing simply what he felt. There was confusion as the harmonies contradicted the melody. And if there were a bass line, he would surely play a steady line resembling his heart. Then there was the simple melody again, and that's what made him the most curious.
He stopped playing for just a moment. He could still hear it. In the back of his brain, he knew those notes were familiar. He finally figured it out. It was a tune he had heard her hum before he would practice. He had never paid that much attention to when she sang. Before, he would simply play over her, forcing her to stop. Why did he ever force her to stop?
"I'm sorry," Schroeder said as he raised his hand back above the keys. He would play the same melody for two hours before he was satisfied.