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W hatever Y ou N eed
Ms. Johnson’s pleasant, smiling eyes sought out our attention during first period English class. “Hand in your poems.”
I bent over my desk, pulling my notebook from my book bag. I tore out the pages that had my poem. Kota caught that I had more than one page. He reached into his bag and fished out a mini stapler. I smiled to him as he held the edge for me and stapled my pages together.
“You’re always so thoughtful,” I told him.
His cheeks tinted.
Gabriel leaned over the isle and snatched the paper from my hands. “You didn’t show us yours,” he said.
My eyes widened and my face heated up. I grasped for the pages to take them back. Gabriel leaned far over the opposite side of his desk, and out of my reach. His eyes scanned the page, reading quickly.
“We have to turn it in,” I said. “It’s nothing. Just a stupid poem.”
My poem was about hidden hearts being everywhere in the world, and a little girl who was the only one who could see them. Her parents thought she was crazy, and they locked her up in an asylum. She was released only when she promised never to talk about hidden hearts again. It was sad, and I didn’t think it was really finished, but I didn’t have an ending.
“What’s it say, Gabriel?” Luke asked behind me.
“It says Luke’s a nerd.” He stuck his tongue out at him.
“Gabe,” Kota said. “You can read it later. Turn it in.”
Gabriel made a grunting noise and pouted but handed it to Kota, who collected ours and passed them along.
I put my elbow on my desk, leaning my face in my hand, grateful for Kota.
I walked into Mr. Blackbourne’s music class without a violin. I know he said not to but if I wasn’t going to get a violin for the class, I wanted to tell him myself why I had to quit. It felt wrong to go behind his back and cancel the class after he went through all the trouble of making the arrangements in the first place.
I hadn’t said a word to the others about this. Somewhere in my mind I assumed I would simply get put into one of the study hall classes. It couldn’t be helped. They would figure it out after I changed my schedule.
As I entered music room B, the space seemed to become infinitely smaller. Mr. Blackbourne waited for me next to the piano, his arms crossed over his chest. His steel eyes studied me as I entered, scrutinizing me so much that my hand instinctively touched the collar of my blouse to ensure all the buttons were closed.
All morning, I had envisioned the things I would say about how sorry I was to have wasted his time. I wanted to encourage him to pick someone else. I thought there had to be other students here who would relish such an opportunity like I did.
As he stood there looking back at me across the room, I felt my heart tripping in my chest and the words I had worked on escaped my mind. The coolness of his gaze settling on me was enough to solidify my muscles and make my mind melt into nothing.
“Miss Sorenson.” His voice was so smooth and confident, commanding without asking anything of me.
I opened my mouth and felt the words escape me but the voice sounded different than my own. Soft. Weak. “Mr. Blackbourne.”
He stepped away from the piano. His arms dropped from his chest and he closed the distance between us. I didn’t move a muscle. Would he yell?
“Are you not coming in?” he asked.
“I...” I felt my face heating up and my shoulders started to shake. “I’m sorry. I just came to tell you...” My tongue darted across the roof of my mouth, finding it parched. With my eyes on the floor, released from penetrating stare, I tried again. “I can’t take your class.”
A gentle finger traced my chin, lifting my face until I could see the spark of almost silver in his eyes, shimmering in the light through his glasses. “Didn’t you tell me a week ago this was what you wanted?” While his voice had the same demand, his tone had softened considerably.
“Yes,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest to quell the shaking I felt as his gaze sought out answers I wasn’t able to offer.
“Are you suggesting that you don’t want to now?” His eyes demanded my answer, unrelenting.
“My mother won’t allow me to play. I won’t be able to get a violin.” My tongue felt rough against the dryness of my mouth. “I know you said not to come to your class without one but I didn’t want to leave without thanking you first for at least giving me a chance.”
His lips were pursed for a moment as he looked over my face. He released me. “Tell me what your mother said to you.”
My face radiated. Why couldn’t he just tell me to go? Why wasn’t he yelling at me for wasting his time? “She... she wanted me to drop the lessons. She said I had no business in a music class.”
His eyebrow raised a fraction. “Isn’t your elder sister in the school band?”
I nodded.
“Hmm.” His hand went to his chin. He turned around and headed toward the piano.
I thought that would be it. I turned around, ready to leave the room.
“Where are you going?” his stern voice was back.
I remained facing away from him, fixing my eyes on the shiny metal handle of the music room door. I was positive it would be the last time I ever saw it. “I was going to the main office to...”
“Class isn’t over yet.” He paused. “The boys offered to buy you one, didn’t they?”
I spun to face him. “How did you know?”
“But you refused?”
My finger found my lower lip. “They wanted to buy one for me. I told them not to. I couldn’t ask them to do something for me when I couldn’t be sure I could ever pay them back. They’ve done so much for me already.” How did he find out about my contact with the boys? Didn’t Kota say something about not letting Mr. Blackbourne know we knew each other? It was hinted at before. Did I make a mistake? Was it okay now?
He turned away from me. From behind the piano, he picked up a black case. I thought it was the same one from yesterday, but this one had a cloth material on the outside instead of a hard case. There was a strap along one edge for carrying it on your shoulder. “Should I give this back to them?”
My head tilted forward, an eyebrow going up. I recognized what he held in his hands for what it was, but my brain didn’t want to make the connection as to why and how.
He brought the case to me, undoing the zipper as he walked. He balanced the case on one palm. He opened the lid.
Underneath was a violin. The wood was a rich brown, gleamingly polished. The fingerboard and chinrest were black. Delicate black pin striping outlined the edge of the smooth curves.
“Where did you...” I breathed out.
“Victor brought it to me this morning.”
I flushed. I blinked to get
rid of the tears. “I can’t, Mr. Blackbourne. They shouldn’t have done it.”
“You don’t want it?” he asked in a quiet voice.
How could they? After I had told him not to, he went ahead and got one anyway and behind my back got Mr. Blackbourne involved. The others had to have known about it. How could they not understand that I didn’t want the burden of feeling like I owed them for this? I didn’t want them to ever think I was friends with them for the things they bought for me. Guilt for their charity etched into me, prickling my skin.
Even as I thought these things, my fingers shook as my hand hovered above the wood of the violin in front of me. I was too afraid to touch it. I did want it. It warmed my heart that Victor went out of his way, after the day he had yesterday, and bought one for me.
“Miss Sorenson,” he said. “I’ve known Kota and the others since they were ten years old. While it is true that they normally attend the Academy and they are nice people in general, they don’t normally allow outsiders into their circle. Quite frankly, I’m not exactly sure how you managed to get involved with them so quickly. From what little Kota has shared about you to me, and with great reluctance on his part, you’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks.”
I blushed. “I just bumped into him one day.”
“And yet here they are buying you a violin.”
“I told them not to.”
“And they did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand what that means?”
I shook my head, unable to find my voice to reply.
“I’ll show you.” He closed the lid and tucked the violin case under one arm. He held his other arm out. “Come with me.”
With trembling fingers, I touched the crook of his arm. He guided me over to the piano where he motioned for me to take a seat. I sat at the bench, crossing my legs at the ankles. He opened the new violin case again, freeing the instrument from the restraints. He held the violin to his neck, applying the bow.
He started playing a Chinese melody that I recognized, but didn’t know the name of. The long, gentle notes vibrated at the smallest of changes his fingers made across the fingerboard. The music poured out from the violin like water, soothing, refreshing. It took only moments before I’d forgotten to blush at my predicament. I was entranced by his artistry.
