Violin

Violin

It was not usual to hear the sound of a violin coming from the band hall. The school had no orchestra program due to lack of money. Most of the income was spend on the sports facilities; Football was practically the whore of the school when it came to money. Even so, this sound was even more peculiar than it appeared. Not only were stringed instruments practically foreign on the school's property; the time it surfaced the air was a strange commotion.

At that particular moment, most of the students were crowded in the gym attending a pep rally that seemed more like the faculty's attempt to add excitement to the monotone routine of a school schedule. This futile attempt included random school announcements, the band playing, and (probably the most entertaining of events, to the boys) the cheerleaders. For many of the male student body, that was really the only thing that kept them from skipping. Watching them twirl, the skirts flying up, the way their legs moved...

Maybe he was just weird, but Ryan couldn't care less. Despite carrying the appearance of a typical jock, even with the cursed red and white letterman jacket with his number on it, he wasn't all too interested in watching speeches or stuck-up girls. Instead of making his way to the gymnasium, he'd snuck right out of English class and walked a beeline straight to the band hall in one of the other buildings. It was a miracle he hadn't been caught, but since there wasn't a seventh class for band, it'd been easy to sneak in. The door had luckily been left unlocked; and, seeing as there was no teacher, he invited himself right in. Originally he figured he'd just sneak in and look at some of the piano sheets on one of the shelves, but a case behind the teacher's desk had perked his interest.

As he flipped open the metal locks and lifted the top, a full size violin peered up at him like some sort of angel. Already he could feel the smooth maple wood of its body, the metal strings, the pegs... However the best part, the true exhilaration, came from his imagination of its sound. This thought, this daydream, quickly turned to a reality. Not a minute passed before he'd rosined up the bow, rested the violin under his chin, and began playing.

Oh, how harmonious! To his joy, the violin was perfectly in tune; its pitch like something straight out of heaven. Ryan wasn't a bad player, being that he'd had lessons since a young age, and his style accentuated the music well. He'd always been a piano man, but the violin had always kept a special place in his heart. Something about its structure, something about its melancholy tones, something about the expressive sonatas one could play. It brought a calming to him, a feeling of euphoria no drug could give him. For those moments he strung the bow across the strings, he could care about nothing but listening to the music. So composed he would be that he'd close his eyes and imagine he were somewhere else. A lush green field, nothing in the distance for miles. Wildflowers here and there, blue skies with patches of white clouds that somehow avoided blocking out the sun. Maybe a tall tree here or there in full bloom, its leaves occasionally floating in a small breeze that managed to sweet through. And Ryan would be standing there, envisioning himself in this world, nothing in his ears but the sound of what he was playing, all at peace.

"Wheatley."

Suddenly, a stray cloud had managed to block out that sun. The teenager turned on his heels, eyes wide, unaware that he'd had any company. To his dismay, it was the short, gray-haired band teacher. He didn't know the man much at all, couldn't even remember his name. But somehow, this teacher had heard of him.

"Yes, sir?" He quickly tucked the violin under his arm, trying to give the most innocent grin he could muster.

The man looked him up and down, one eyebrow cocked upward in a suspicious motion. "What on earth convinced you that it would be a good idea to play an instrument that was behind my desk?"

"I just... had the urge to play."

"I see," came the reply. The older man came through the doorway and sat himself down in his desk, leaning back in a chair with his arms crossed. "So, play."

"Excuse me?"

"Play."

Ryan was nervous at first, swallowing down his fear a bit. He hated playing in front of people, but this brought it to a whole new level. This guy actually knew what music was supposed to sound like, and if he messed it up... The teacher would know. It was no secret that Ryan hated being wrong, and it was also no secret that he hated doing things wrong. But somehow he forced himself to put that violin back under his chin, placing that bow gently on the strings, and he began playing.

"Straighten up your posture," a barked order surface.

"Oh... Okay."

"You're not holding the bow right. Fix your index finger."

"Okay."

"Straighten your back again."

"Alright." There was a slight irritation in the tone of his voice.

"Lift your elbow more."

That was it. He wasn't here to do a damn professional concert; he was here to enjoy himself. "Well, sir, if you'd like to see the perfect stance, then you are welcome to switch places with me."

A laugh came from behind the desk, one gruff that matched the teacher's normal voice. Whether it was out of Ryan's comment or his horrible posture, the boy wasn't sure, but it was beginning to piss him off.

"Wheatley, why does a boy like you play the violin?"

That was random. "I like it."

"Why?"

"It calms me... I don't see why any of this matters."

"Just play."

Once again he hesitated, this time waiting for some sort of sarcastic or damaging remark about the way he stood. When none came, he began playing. It was noticeably worse than earlier. What was wrong with him? Green field, green field...

And the vision came back. That cloud from earlier had long since moved, casting shadows in places Ryan didn't stand. The place almost seemed even more peaceful than before. A few butterflies flowed along the breeze, feathers dropping from a tree where a bird began preening itself, only to start floating along with the insects. Then the music flowed as well, harmonious, soft, filling his ears like it was the only vibration his eardrums could pick up. He'd forgotten about the teacher, forgotten about the pep rally, forgotten he was even at school. The euphoria came again, the peaceful state of mind where he could disregard what he was even doing and still play like it was second nature. It was always a mystery as to how he did it. Ever since he was a child, he remembered playing music. Violin and piano were his favorites, always those two. When he didn't have anything to do, he'd just sit up there in his room and start playing, sometimes to his parents' disappointment when they thought he should be sleeping instead.

Eventually he neared the end of his sonata, ending it with a final stroke of the bow and the opening of his eyes. The teacher had watched him the whole time, studying the way he played. A pale blush came on his cheeks with the embarrassment.

"Uh, I'm done," he said with an uneasy laugh, quickly but tenderly putting the violin back in its case. "Sorry for-"

"Wheatley, you're a strange one."

"Sir?"

"Like I said, you're strange."

"Might I ask how?"

"Well...," the older man got up from his seat with a notebook in his hand, moving to a chalkboard on the wall and scribbling what Ryan assumed to be vocabulary words. "I don't know what's stranger than finding a jock in my classroom playing a violin when he's supposed to be at an assembly. You're not exactly the kind of person to be in here."

Ryan had to scoff at that. "I would suggest you don't stereotype me by what I wear or what I belong to."

"What if I did?"

"Then I'd prove you wrong. There's more to me than meets the eye."

"I thought so."

Confused but frustrated, the teen rolled his eyes and took a few footsteps toward the door, only to stop just under the doorway. "Wait... What's my punishment?"

"Hm?" The sound of chalk on the board ceased.

There was a turn of his head, chin tilted upward, as if he thought he was being conned. "I walked in your room without your permission. Isn't that a reason to be punished?"

A gruff laugh came with a click-click-click from behind him. "What are you talking about, Wheatley? Hurry on out; I need to close up. The students will be here to grab their instruments soon. I suggest you go on out near the gym before anyone suspects anything."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'd like to see you come in here during your study hall sometime. You need to play harder compositions."

Was that a compliment or a challenge? Both? Either way, Ryan was sure as hell up to it. Finding no other words to say, he made a small chuckle and headed out the door, his hands in his pocket. As he left, he could've sworn he heard a few clicks, then the sound of a violin.