16. Mia #2
“No. He just said you were upstairs in the room next to mine.” Cody’s voice was so low I could barely hear him. “He said you shouted, and I didn’t hear it.”
I still wasn’t seeing the problem. “It’s okay. Aaron and Diego did, and they came running.”
“You were right next to my room.”
“So? I’m okay. People came to help. You probably didn’t hear because you were listening to music.”
“Exactly.” His voice was bitter.
Was he mad at himself? “You couldn’t have known a friend would have a nightmare in the empty room next to yours.”
“Because I had my headphones on. Like always.”
“You’re a music major—you’re supposed to listen to music.”
“I’m majoring in audio production, and I’m supposed to fucking hear if someone’s screaming in the very next room.”
For Cody, it was a long sentence, but it made my chest ache. “I’m fine. I think it’s great that you’re always listening to music.”
He cocked his head to the side doubtfully. “Why?”
“Because we need music. Hearing it makes us feel better. Like, say, if a friend let me listen while he practiced. That would make me feel better.” I said that as if unaware that we were a hundred yards from the music building.
“I have to practice,” he muttered, not getting that that was the point.
“I know. Can I listen?” Perhaps being direct worked better than hints with Cody.
“Why?”
“Because I’d really like to.” I jumped back in before he could say something. “Don’t say ‘why’ again. Just say ‘sure.’ Please?”
His light blue eyes stared right through me, as I waited somewhat less than patiently.
Finally, he spoke. “Sure.”
Grinning, I walked with him toward the building.
Cody’s manner changed as he led me through the hall of the music building. It was like he was standing taller or something. More confident, perhaps. This was his turf, and it showed.
We went up two flights of stairs to a hallway with little rooms the size of cubicles on either side. Through a small glass panel in the door, I could see that some were empty. Some had students practicing a variety of instruments, and some held pianos.
He led me to one with a piano. It was a small room, and Cody went in first, sitting at the piano and sliding to the right. He patted the bench next to him.
There wasn’t a lot of room, but I set my book bag down on the floor and settled onto the bench next to him. The piano looked old but pretty, with its dark, glossy wood and shiny white keys. I smiled at him, eager to hear him play.
He seemed torn about something. “Do you like classical?” he asked at last.
“Yes—if the only other option is country. Are you going to play something classical for me?”
“I was thinking about a duet.”
“With me?” The surprise in my voice echoed around the small room.
“Unless you think we can fit a third person in here.”
Okay, that was pretty funny. “What do I have to do?”
He tapped a key that was on the far left side of the keyboard. “Just press that one when I tell you to.”
Gingerly, I pressed down on the key he indicated. The keys looked nothing like the cheap plastic ones on an electric keyboard one of my foster parents had had.
There wasn’t any sound.
“Harder,” he ordered
“Oh.” It was a nice low note. I played it again. “How’s that?”
“You’ve got natural talent,” he said dryly, and I laughed.
“So when do I press it?”
“I’ll tell you.”
He put his hands on the keys and hit a dramatic chord that filled the room and made the bench underneath us vibrate. It was followed by more notes, his fingers graceful and curved as they danced across the keys.
It sounded amazing. Like a full orchestra, but it was just him.
“Now,” he said.
It took me a second to realize it was time to play my note. I hit it, holding it down. And then the song resumed.
Mesmerized, I watched his hands fly across the keys, until he said “now” again. This time, I hit my note quicker—and unless I was mistaken, in time with the music.
It was a dramatic piece that sent shivers down my spine. And although I was only playing one note on cue, it did feel like a duet. Like for the first time in my life, I was part of music making.
Cody continued playing, and I didn’t get to hit my note again. But it was fascinating to watch the expressive way his hands moved. His fingers were strong and nimble. And his body was warm where it was pressed against mine.
I could have sat there for hours. But then the piece ended, the last notes fading out as they echoed around the little room.
“Wow. That was amazing,” I said.
He grinned wryly. “Thanks to your contribution.”
“Who composed that?”
“Rachmaninoff.”
“Gesundheit.”
He shook his head, perhaps amused in spite of himself?
“All right, I need to practice for real.” He nudged me with his hip, and I slid two inches down the bench.
“I guess I’ll go to the library until my shift at the coffee house starts.”
Cody nodded absently as he flipped through some sheet music in his bag.
“Thanks,” I said. “I enjoyed that.”
He nodded again, not looking at me, and I frowned. He sure could create beautiful music, but getting him to participate in a conversation was a bit like pulling teeth.
I grabbed my bag and got to my feet, standing in the small space between the piano and the door. “Well, bye.”
I waited a beat longer, but he didn’t say it back. I reached for the doorknob.
“Maybe next time you can try two notes.”
I turned back, pleased that there was going to be a next time.
And then the words tumbled out of me before I could consider the wisdom of them. “Are you going to the movie night?”
He put a stack of sheet music on the piano stand. Finally, he looked up as if surprised I was still here. “I don’t do things like that. Aaron and Diego stopped asking me a long time ago.”
“It’s not at the house. It’s for class.”
Cody frowned, as if he wasn’t sure I was being serious. “Chemistry class has movie nights?”
“Yes, well, the science club does. It’s Thursday night and we get extra credit if we go.” I stared at him. “Have you ever even heard one word Professor Beringer’s said?”
“One time I got there early and think he said ‘hi’ to me.”
I was torn between rolling my eyes and laughing. “Okay, so you’ve heard exactly one word.”
“What’s the movie?”
“Guess. And it’s not actually a movie, it’s a show. About chemistry.”
He thought for a moment. “Breaking Bad.”
“Yes. We’re watching the pilot episode and then we have to write up a critique of the chem lab scenes.”
“And you’re going?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to go too?”
“Yes.” Wasn’t that part obvious? “Will you?”
His head tilted to the side as he studied me.
“What?”
“You look like you want me to say ‘sure’ like before.”
“Because I do.” I sighed dramatically. “Free will is overrated.”
“All right,” he said at long last.
“You’ll go with me?”
He gave me a smile that was small but lovely enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“Sure.”