Touching Melody

32

Maddie

Wow Me, People





When I wake the next morning, my head is pounding like pots and pans on New Year’s Day. I throw off the covers and climb out of bed. Today I’ll make it to all my classes.

Gina is still in bed. I’m not sure whether to wake her or not. She rolls over and says, “I’m up. I’ve been up all night. You wouldn’t stop snoring. I almost choked you to death in your sleep.”

I smirk. “Sorry, Gina.” I grab a water bottle, twist it open, and chug it down.

“Hey, that’s my water. Crook. You owe me a dollar.” She jumps out of bed and grabs her shower bag. “You gonna make it? You look like hell.”

“Gee. Thanks.” I touch my lip. It’s sore. “I have to.”

“Alright. See ya in class.” She takes off to the bathroom.

I finish the water and toss the bottle in the trash. My head still feels like it’s going to split in two. I touch the back of my head where it hit the pavement and flinch. There’s a large goose egg.

My whole body is tender. When I change out of my sweats, I notice bruises on both knees. My hands feel swollen. In the bathroom I see my lip is split and puffy.

The idea that Evan did this to me is irritating. Frustrating. Pull-my-hair-out aggravating. I never would’ve guessed he could be such a jerk. And that’s not even the proper word. He’s worse than that. He’s the epitome of evil. Maybe the trait comes from the roots of the family tree. It’s part of his DNA, as unchangeable as the sun crossing the sky. There’s something off about Evan’s dad. I noticed it right away. Kyle and Evan’s dad were brothers. I wonder how they were raised.

Except Kyle, I think, and sigh. He seems really good.

I whip my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and apply lip-gloss, hoping the sheen will mask some of the puffiness. It doesn’t, but it’s the best I can do. My goal is to get through this week. Finish all of my assignments, or as many as possible.

Four more days. Then my aunt and uncle will come and get me, and I can talk to them about Evan. Tell them the threats he made and the things he said about my mom and dad. I hope my aunt and uncle will tell me the truth. Then I remember I invited Gina to stay with us. If she comes, a family discussion might be tricky.

Four more days, I tell myself, and head to class.





In English, Ms. Spears gives me a knowing sneer. I want to rip her lips off. Gina notices and raises an eyebrow.

“What’s up with Bitchy Spears?” Gina winks. I shake my head as though I have no idea.

But I do have an idea. She’s rubbing it in my face that her and Kyle slept together, and I don’t like it. As if on cue, Kyle stands. He’s passing back our assignment from last week. What if my grade sucks? I think back on what I wrote and cringe.

Bitchy Spears speaks. “Mr. Hadley is passing out the information for your final paper. This is the only copy you’ll receive, so keep it safe. The final will be a third of your grade, so made it great. Wow me, people.” She proceeds to spend the next hour discussing the different thematic elements in some movie I’ve never heard of. All I want to do is fall asleep. But I don’t. I stay awake and focus. Until my phone vibrates against my leg. For once I’m grateful for stadium seating, and for being in the back row. I casually hide behind Troy, the tall guy with the basketball, the one who ran me over the first day of school. He’s on scholarship for the basketball team, and it’s obvious he’s into the sport. He seems nice. Hails from Las Vegas.

I check my cell. The text is from Kyle

Glad to see you’re okay. Want to talk?

I do want to talk to him, more than anything, but I can’t. Not with Evan lurking about. He said he would hurt my aunt and uncle, and after the way he pushed me around last night, I’m inclined to believe him.

I text back. I’m fine.

You say that, but I don’t believe you. Besides, it isn’t nice to lie to the guy you love.

I’m shocked. Why would he say that?

What? I text.

Yeah, don’t deny it. You love me, and you want me. Accept it, Freckles.

I-I?????? I remember saying the words to him. I realize they’re true. So true. Damn Gina and her stupid pain pills.

I look over at her and frown. She lifts her shoulders. “What?” she mouths.

I shake my head.

My phone vibrates. I’m watching you, Pudgy.

I gasp. I know exactly who sent me the text, and it sure as hell wasn’t Kyle. The screen says Blocked. Trying to be casual I glance around the room, but I don’t see him.

Kyle texts me. Please practice with me tonight. It’s important. Then he types a semi-colon with a parenthesis—a winking face.

A smile lifts my cheeks. As soon as I notice, I stop. Quickly type back: Okay.

Bitchy Spears is winding down. I think she’s almost finished talking when she asks a question. “What distinguishing tendencies did most early twentieth century writers have?” She scans the room. Several hands go up. Lots of students with opinions. I’m guessing that’s good. I don’t want to answer, so of course, she calls on me. “Miss Martin. Please enlighten the class.”

I sit up straight. Clasp my hands in my lap. “Um…” I pause, and Bitchy Spears interrupts.

“Obviously she’ll get an A on the final.”

The class laughs.

I shrink down in my seat. There’s plenty I could’ve said: stuff about Modernists, Realists, and even Naturalists.

My phone vibrates. I hate this class. It’s Toxic. She Drives Me Crazy.

I cover my mouth to keep from snorting.

Agreed.





The rest of the day is hard, but uneventful. I talked to all of my teachers. They’ve agreed to let me make up my work. I guess, in a small way, I have Evan to thank. The bruises on my face encourage the teachers to take pity. I see it in their demeanor.

More snow is falling. As I make my way to the Fine Arts building, I leave tracks on the sidewalk. My toes are frozen. Large snowflakes sting my face and stick to my eyelashes. I pull open the door and my body sighs in relief.

The entryway is quiet. I quickly make my way down the steps and pull open the doors to the practice rooms. A little more tension leaves my body.

Music: the soother of souls.

About halfway down the hall I hear the song Kyle played the last time he arrived before me. As before, the melody breaks my heart. It’s lovely, breathtaking. It sweeps me away to a place where I’m more comfortable, more relaxed, more at peace.

I pull open the doors and he stops.

“Hi.”

As soon as I see him, my heart speeds up. This is our sanctuary. No one can touch us when we are within these walls. Unless we allow it. He comes over, pulls my light coat off, and tosses it into a chair. I’m mesmerized by the way his hands move, the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps flex and contract. I can’t help but be taken in by the way his navy shirt hugs him from his chest all the way down to his narrow hips. Past his stonewashed denim. And, for the first time, I check out his shoes.

They’re white. Look worn. Sneakers. Comfortable. Cozy. Unassuming. Just like Kyle. And I smile.

“Hi back.”

His lips find mine immediately. No hesitation, but he’s soft. Tender. I know he’s taking into consideration my split lip, and his thoughtfulness gives me shivers. He is still urgent, I respond in kind. Hungry for him. He presses my mouth open with his lips, sucks on my tongue. My thighs, the secret place between them, suddenly jolts to life and ignites with pleasure.

I can’t keep my hands off him. They wander under his shirt and my fingers trace the places my eyes roamed only moments before. His hands cup my butt, holding me to him.

There’s a knock on the door, then it opens. I suddenly remember Evan and what he said he would do—to me, to my aunt and uncle. I feel sick.

“Hey Professor Jenkins,” Kyle says casually.

A sob of relief escapes my throat. I need to be more careful. I turn and smile.

Professor Jenkins clears his throat. Gives my face a once over. Shakes his head. “Are you warmed up? Can I hear how the piece is coming along?”

“Um, sure,” Kyle says.

We move to take our seats. After I’ve adjusted my bench, I glance at Kyle. Send him a message with my eyes. This isn’t going to be good. My fingers aren’t limber. I haven’t played in a couple of days.

Kyle saves me.

“Do you mind if we run through a couple of exercises?”

Professor Jenkins’ eyebrows rise into his salt and pepper hair. A look that asks, “What have you been doing?” He takes a seat in a chair. Crosses one leg over the other, and adjusts his clothing. “Of course. Proceed.”

I’m so happy I could reach over and kiss Kyle, but I don’t. We run through scales together for five minutes. I’m amazed at how well we play together. It’s not easy to play a song with someone else. The best duet partners learn to breathe together. For many, it takes years of practice. But with Kyle, it’s as if his heart is a part of me. I sense the beat, when he’s going to breathe. Each time I glance at Kyle, I get the feeling he’s experiencing the same thing.

My fingers are feeling better, more limber. I nod, letting him know I’m ready.

Kyle counts quietly. “One. Two. Three.” He starts to play. I join in. My fingers play the notes. My soul follows along. Soaring. Reaching. Believing. Worry about Evan, about whether I should be with Kyle, and the stress of school fade into the background.

I am the music.

I’ve had the piece memorized for a while and I play with my eyes closed, only occasionally opening them to watch Kyle when there’s a particularly difficult section. His ice-blue eyes meet mine every time I look over. Melting me. And I’m lost. In his eyes, the chords, the melody.

When it’s finished, Professor Jenkins claps. He stands, picks up his briefcase and his coat and moves to the door. “Lovely. Almost there. Keep it up. I’ll check back after Christmas break.”

He leaves. The air’s thick with a tension I hadn’t noticed before. I glance at Kyle and we both start to laugh.

“Are you staying with your aunt and uncle for Thanksgiving?” He stands and makes his way over. The butterflies in my belly flutter with eagerness.

I swallow and clear my throat. “Yes. Are you going home? I mean, to your aunt and uncle’s?”

He walks behind me, touches my back with his hand. Moves my hair out of the way and massages my shoulders.

“Mmmmmm. That feels sooooo good.” I let my head hang forward, giving him easier access.

His magic fingers knead the stressed muscles. Then move further down. I close the lid over the keys and lean forward.

Kyle chuckles. “I take it you don’t want me to stop.”

“I might have to hurt you if you stop.”

“Got it, Boss.” His fingers move further down my spine.

My body is humming in happiness. I think I could let him do this for hours. He moves along my waist to my sides, then presses in. My body responds like a light bulb flipped on and I whirl around, slapping his hands away. “Don’t tickle me.”

He pulls me close, nudging my neck with his nose, his lips. My heart pounds against my chest so hard I think I’ll pass out. “I want you, Maddie Martin.” His hands slide under my shirt and his hands press my body tightly against him.

I melt into him, hugging him. I want him too. But Evan’s voice is in my head. “Keep your knees together and your lips closed.”

He straddles the bench so he’s facing me. I lean in. Mesmerized by his hands on my body. When they reach my neck, he lifts my face and kisses me. Long and deep, until I press into him, dizzy with pleasure.

“Until break we’d better practice long and hard.” His voice is hoarse, filled with emotion.

I mutter something incoherent, too focused on the gratification his tongue and lips are eliciting as he blazes a trail of hot kisses over my body.