“I suggest you learn asimpler, shorter piece. You don’t have to play the wholecomposition—just choose the parts that strike you.” He paused.“Most importantly, learn to play with emotion.”
His teacher’s voice wascurt, but there was a softness to his eyes that had nothing to dowith the light. Caleb nodded, and waited for his teacher to closethe door before he buried his face in his hands. He inhaled andexhaled into his palms, listening to his breath.
When he had collectedhimself, he picked up his knapsack. He still had a ton of things todo: homework, a research paper, rehearsing his next piece. He dugout his cellphone to check the time and instead, found Ginny’smessage staring up at him.
If Tara asks me one moretime why you haven’t been to the meetings, I’ll scream. If youflake out, I’m not ever handing over that thing you askedfor.
* * *
Caleb could’ve hailed ajeepney, but had felt like rebelling against the metronome, warninghim that he was running late. While walking, he reviewed the planin his head. He would tell Tara that he was quitting the group.Maybe even say that Ginny, who’d agreed to join Wordplay, would behis replacement. Then before making his exit, he’d grab the musicsheet he’d asked Ginny to photocopy, go home and practice the crapout of it.
When he reached theBahay Kubo, the sun wasa glowing ball on the horizon. Under the canopy of trees, Calebmade his way past the small picnic tables and chairs, to the hut atthe center of the quad. Cautiously, he peered inside.
The long wooden bench thatran along the hut’s interior was nearly full. Not wanting todisturb the discussion, Caleb crept in and sat near the entrance.Two people seated away from him was Ginny, who literally shone in ametallic gold top. She narrowed her eyes at him.
Caleb simply held out ahand.
Rolling her eyes, Ginnyunzipped her tote bag and fished out sheets of paper folded inhalf.
“Excuse me,” Calebwhispered to his seatmate as he pushed himself forward, reachingfor the sheets. He set them on his lap and with his palm,smoothened out the creases.
The notes of FredericChopin’s Opus 28, Number 15 danced before his eyes. He’d beenplanning to play this for Sir Carreon instead of Mozart’s TwelveVariations, but he couldn’t find the original sheet at thedepartment. Thankfully, Ginny had volunteered to locate it andphotocopy it for him.
Caleb read its alternatetitle off the top of the sheet. The Raindrop Prelude.
The melody began slowly ina hopeful D flat major, the notes pattering like raindrops. Withoutwarning, it dipped into a mournful C sharp minor. A few bars intothe music, Caleb heard something else— tun-tun-tun—an A flat hammeredinsistently like a nail being driven into wood. Caleb found himselfturning to the second sheet, wanting to know how the music wouldend.
“Hey!”
“Oops, sorry.”
Throwing a venomous look athis seatmate, Caleb rubbed the side of his waist where it had beenhit by an elbow. All around him, people stirred to gather theirthings. Hastily, Caleb got out his folder and inserted Chopin’smusic into a clear page.
“Well, that meeting wentfast,” he told to Ginny when he got outside.
“Wow, you’rethat spaced out today,huh?” Ginny gave him a withering look. “Didn’t you hear Drew? We’rebreaking into smaller groups for our consultation with thementors.”
“Mentors? Forwhat?”
“For our trip to themoon,” Ginny snapped. “Hello? Mentors for writing our poems, ofcourse! Last meeting, which you’d skipped without bothering to tellme, mentors was assigned to members to help them with”—she tickedoff her fingers—“one, writing a poem. And two, performing it.” Shepoked her finger into his chest. “And you were assigned to—surprise,surprise—Tara!” Ginny vaguely looked around. “But she’s not here,so I don’t know who’s going to meet with you.”
Caleb frowned. “I don’t getwhy Tara keeps bugging you about me. It’s not like I’ve committedto this thing.”
Ginny turned to him, aneyebrow raised. “You aretotally clueless today.” She sighed, eyeing Noel.“Too bad that new members can’t be mentors.” Noel turned his headand waved at Ginny, only for his hand to freeze in the air when hespotted Caleb.
“Caleb?”
Caleb wheeled around. Therestood Franco grinning at him. As they stood face-to-face, Calebrealized that Franco was almost as tall as he was.
“Tara’s not here so I’mtaking you on.”
“Uh.” Caleb’s voice soundedlike a trumpet squeak. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and triedagain. “Uh, okay.”
He followed Franco to atable occupied by two girls. They shot him a tentativesmile.
Franco rubbed his handstogether as he sat down. “So, introductions. Diane and Mel, this isCaleb.”
Caleb nodded, feeling likehe was sinking into quicksand. What happened to his plan ofditching this meeting the first chance he got? He had to make hisescape.
“Caleb is my adopted menteetoday,” Franco explained. “Today, you guys can consult me on yourpoems—ideas, fears, thoughts, lines already written—anything! We’lldo this one at a time, okay? Who wants to go first?” His dark eyestraversed the semi-circle of faces.
“Me.” Instantly, Caleb feltall three pairs of eyes on him. A blush crept up his neck. “If it’sokay.”
“No prob.” Franco nodded tothe two girls. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us. I’ll call the next onewhen we’re done.”
Reminding himself tobreathe, Caleb waited for the others to leave before opening hismouth. “I just—” At the same time, Franco said, “So,bow—”
Caleb clapped a hand overhis mouth, while Franco chuckled.
“Sorry.” Caleb was halfwaythrough running his fingers through his hair when he yanked hishand away. “Um, you were saying?”
“Just that bowties are yourthing.” Franco gestured to the pink-and-lavender-striped accessoryCaleb wore. “It’s cute.” He cupped his chin in his hand. “What wereyou going to say?”
What washe going to say? As hedigested the compliment he—okay, the bowtie—had gotten from Franco,Caleb drew a complete blank. He was still dredging his brain for ananswer when a voice rang out.
“Franc, the usuallater?”
Drew’s voice was just whatCaleb needed to snap back to reality—including that affectionatesmile Franco gave Drew before yelling back, “Mexican again? Sure,anything for you.”
By the time Franco turnedhis attention back to him, Caleb had recovered. “I just wanted tosay that I’m quitting Wordplay. Sorry. I have this . . . importantmusic subject that I have to focus on, and with the other schoolstuff, I don’t have time for anything else.” The words came outrushed, leaving him
