scene forty-three - piano - year nine

She’d never told them that she could play piano. Maybe they’d been too busy, snogging Jayden behind the canteen every lunchtime and selling cigs and various low-level drugs—think less weed, more paracetamol and, weirdly enough, the strangely popular Calpol—on the walk home. Maybe they just didn’t pay enough attention to her anymore. In any case, as they perched on the end of the piano stool, they were astounded by the effortlessness of her fingers gliding over the keys, recognising the music from a video which someone had shown them at lunch. Music, unlike other things—like names—was easy to recall, especially with a little help, such as one of their closer acquaintances playing the exact same song right in front of their face.

“It’s beautiful.” Even as she ended the song, the notes continued to waver in the air, making their voice sound hoarse in comparison. “You never- I mean, have you ever told me you could play like this?”