Chapter 11 - The Pianist.
Ihate Tuesday”s way more than the average person, I swear. Mondays for me are the calm before the storm. Tuesdays are my nemesis. Back-to-back classes from 8:00 a.m. until lunch with Mr. D, then musical history for two boring, painstaking hours with the most monotone sounding person on the planet—Mrs. Edwina Briggs.
I am only fifteen minutes into Mrs. Briggs’s class and regret saying yes to a large meal instead of a medium for a Big Mac at McDonalds. It’s put me into a food coma, and I can’t keep my eyes open for much longer.
I blink rapidly through the “fun” facts of Ludwig Van Beethoven. Somewhere during that I had closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, only waking up when Mr. D slammed his hand down on my desk and the rest of the class burst out laughing. Mrs. Briggs, the dirty snitch, clearly went and told him I was asleep in her class. Witch!
“Miss Jones, grab your things and follow me. Now!” He storms out of the room, leaving me in a sleepy daze while tossing my books into my bag, then I scurry out after him.
For a small old guy, he can move quickly, and I find myself jogging to keep up pace. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s grinning. Bastard. He turns into his classroom and points to the bench. Here we go, hours of playing Beethoven until my fingers bleed.
“From the top, go,” he mutters, pulling open a drawer at his desk, not even watching me. I glance up at the sheet in front of me, noting the first few keys and begin to play.
“Ludovico Einaudi – Una Mattina”
“Don’t be too hasty on the keys,” Mr. D grumbles. It makes me miss a few keys, so I stop playing to regain myself.
“Sorry, sir,” I mumble.
“No,” he snaps, and it startles me. He shakes his head. “Try this one.” Then he places a sheet of music onto the rack.
Taylor Swift – “Love Story”
I read over the sheet a few times, just to make sure I read it correctly …Taylor Swift … “Love Story.” Mr. D is a Swiftie?
“Is there a problem, Margo?” he asks, standing behind me, and it makes my skin crawl.
“No, Mr. Donovan.”
“Then play,” he demands before taking a seat beside me. The melody rings through the air as the lyrics play out in my head. I am a Swiftie, and this song was played over and over again by Hadley when it first came out, so I know it well. Playing it on the piano gives it a whole new vibe, and I’m here for it. I can’t help but wonder why Mr. D wants me to play this? It’s not his typical choice when selecting pieces for us to play.
After the last keys play out, we sit in silence for what feels like eternity.
“I have a job for you if you would like it.” My ears prick up and my brows furrow. Job? Is this his way of kicking me out of the programme?
“What d-do you mean?” Nerves swirl inside of me, making me nauseous.
He lets out a long breath.
“I was supposed to play this piece next week at an event, but I had a family matter come up and cannot go. I don’t want to upset Miss Carson, as she’s a dear friend of the family.” He pauses and wipes a tear away. “It would be easier for me to tell her I cannot make it if I have someone else to take my place.”
Well, shit. Should I be happy about this? Something feels off, and I’m not sure what it is just yet.
“What do you say, Margo? Your place in the course is not affected, and should you do well, consider it a good opportunity to add to your resume.”
What should I say? …