“Skeptical of the place you’re taking me now.”

---

I aimlessly poked the black and white keys that sat in front of me. Today was the day of my audition and I was doing anything to calm my nerves, which meant I was sitting alone in a practice room with a piano to keep me company.

I wasn’t necessarily nervous about the audition itself, but rather my song. After my talk with Vic the other day I decided to suck it up and sing it. Like he said, there was obviously a reason why it was taunting me, and Mr. Urie didn’t need to know why that song was significant to me. Besides, I hadn’t even thought about singing another song since that one popped into my head.

It was weird. It was as if I knew that was what I was meant to sing.

My phone buzzed on the piano, bringing my hands away from the keys.

How’d it go?

It was a text from Tyler. He was so eager to see if we would be in the same ensemble. I texted him back saying Mr. Urie was running late and that my audition was in ten minutes. I wasn’t expecting a reply so I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb and slipped it into my pocket.

I turned my focus back to the piano in front of me. Maybe I should actually learn to play this thing. I had always been fascinated by the piano, and I had always wanted to learn to play something. Most kids start out on piano. Was it too late for me? Maybe I could take lessons from those old ladies who have nothing else in their lives but teaching piano to kids at least fifty years younger than them. Those ladies who had no grandchildren so they teach more kids than they can handle. Those were good teachers.

“How come every time I come down this hall you’re proving to me that you need piano lessons?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not now, Fuentes,” I said tiredly. I was hoping he’d sense my frustration and leave me alone.

Unfortunately the universe doesn’t like being on my side when it comes to these things.

“I get it, you need a distraction,” he said as he sat next to me on the bench. “Well, lucky for you I’m here.”

“Lucky for me?” I asked, sass and sarcasm lacing my words.

“Yes,” he answered with a bright smile. “Sir Victor Fuentes, at your service.” He did a little bow, his smile never leaving his lips.

“If you were really at my service you’d leave,” I pointed out. He simply shrugged and poked at the keys in front of us. “Do you play?” I asked.

“Only a little, but I haven’t in a while.” He spread his fingers along the keys and moved them along the board slowly. “Mom made Mike and I take lessons when we were little, like, toddlers,” he spoke. His fingers crossed over each other and went down the board almost effortlessly. It was mesmerizing. “It was a pretty bad idea if you think about it,” he continued. “I mean, anyone should know that toddlers don’t have the attention span or fine motor skills to play the piano. But Mom said we had to learn for at least a year. After that we could decide if we wanted to keep playing.”

His hands were now playing chords together, each one doing its own thing before moving to a different harmony.

“Mike and I never took it seriously. I mean, he was three and I was four; how could we? Besides, Mike was way more into hitting things, hence why he plays the drums.”

“I didn’t know that,” I interjected.

“Oh, yeah, Mike plays the drums. He’s awesome, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. Fastest kick drummer I’ve ever met.”

I nodded. “Does he play in a band or anything?”

He gave me a confused look while his hands continued to play. “Yeah…,” he trailed off. “He’s in a band with me…”

I gave him the same look. “You’re in a band?”

“Oh yeah!” he exclaimed. “I totally forgot you’re new here.” He chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I’m in a band. Actually I’m the singer, and I play rhythm guitar. Mike plays drums, Tony is the lead guitarist, and Jaime plays bass. We’re called Pierce The Veil.”

“Why Pierce The Veil?”

He shrugged. “I took duel credit sociology and the professor said something about ‘piercing the veil’. It means to get to the root of the problem and removing it at the source,” he explained. “We try to do that with our music. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve texted each other in the middle of the night with song lyrics we’d just written after some shit happened. It’s therapeutic.”

I could relate to that. All of the songs I had written had come to be because of events I wasn’t too happy about. Who knew that Vic and I had something in common?

“So have you written anything with piano yet?” I asked as I watched his hands continue playing, finishing before he answered.

“No, but that’s because I can’t read music.”

“You can’t?”

He chuckled. “Nope, I never learned how. I may have taken piano lessons but like I said, I was four. Plus she never made us read music because we were so young. She just told us where to put our hands.”

“So how did you just play that?” I asked in wonder.

He chuckled. “You’re cute.” My eyes opened in shock, but he answered my question before I was able to ask the other one. “I literally just play things until they sound good. I have no idea what notes I’m playing, on piano or on guitar; I just play.”

I nodded. “That’s pretty cool,” I said. “You have a really good ear.”

“Not really, I just get lucky.”

I opened my mouth to say something when I heard the familiar sound of my alarm go off. I took my phone out of my pocket and turned it off.

“I kinda have to go,” I said sheepishly. Vic stood up before I could and opened the door.

“No worries, dude,” he said as he stepped out of the room, leaving the door open for me to do the same. “Thanks for not kicking me out.”

“Hey, I wanted to the entire time. You just talk too much.” He showed off a goofy grin and shook his head.

“Whatever, you enjoyed my company.” I bit my lip. I didn’t want to admit that talking to him for the last ten minutes wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could’ve happened. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” he said with a smile. He gave me a nod and walked out of the hallway to the front of the school, leaving me there to wonder if I had judged the book that was Vic Fuentes by its cover.

***

“I knew you were gonna make it!” Tyler exclaimed over the phone. I had to pull the phone away from my ear to preserve my hearing.

“Yeah, yeah you did,” I said.

“Urie said he’d never heard someone audition with so much passion behind their voice. It was like that song meant the entire world to you.” I bit my lip. If only he knew.

“Well…”

“Anyway, you should get a new schedule on Monday. I can’t wait for us to finally have a class together.” I smiled even though he couldn’t see me. The only people I had classes with from our group of friends were Lynn and Sav. It would be nice to see some other faces outside of the cafeteria.

“But hey Kells, I’ve gotta get going,” Tyler said. “I’ll text you later.”

“Sure dude, no problem.”

“Cool. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” I ended the call and laid back on my bed.

What a crazy day today turned out to be. A long day of classes followed by an audition that I was apparently worried about for nothing, and a conversation with Vic Fuentes. An actual conversation.

My mind drifted to images of his hands playing the piano. I had no idea what he was playing but he played it so easily. His fingers were at home on the keys; he was so focused.

It was then when I realized I had paid way too much attention to Vic’s hands.

Was that weird? Maybe, but he never noticed. That made it okay, right? Why was I even stressing out about this? Why did I even care?

Because he called you cute.

There it was, that thought that I refused to dwell on all day. Vic Fuentes called me cute. Did he mean it, or was it just a knee-jerk reaction, like laughing in an awkward situation, or scrunching up your nose when you smell something bad?

Or maybe he actually thought I was cute.

Was Vic even gay? Or bi? Or something other than straight? The girls had said something about his various hookups at parties with girls, but he never had a steady girlfriend, at least not one the school knew about. Maybe he was bad at relationships.

All these thoughts floating around my head made me dizzy. Did I want Vic to be gay? Did I want Vic to find me cute? Did I want Vic? He had made my first few weeks miserable and fear-filled, but he was actually a nice guy once prying eyes weren’t in view. Maybe it was all an act.

My confusing thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash coming from the kitchen. I got up quickly and rushed downstairs where Mom and Rick were yelling, something they’d been doing a lot of lately. From what I could gather Rick was drunk and Mom was tired of his bullshit. That was also something I’d heard a lot of lately. Rick had come home late every night this week, either that or drunk. There was one night when he did both. Thankfully tonight he was just drunk.

I stood on the bottom step before the entrance to the kitchen. From the right angle I was out of sight, but I could still see and hear everything they were saying.

“Honestly Rick, what the hell?” Mom yelled. “I’m tired of coming home to this! Kellin shouldn’t have to see this.”

“News flash: he’s seen it,” Rick slurred. “How do you think I’ve gotten to bed? You sure as hell don’t do shit to help.”

“There’s no way I would condone any of this,” Mom said angrily. “You know how I feel about drinking.”

“Don’t be such a fucking prude. You used to be fun.”

“I’m responsible-”

“No, you’re a prude. That kid changed you.”

Me?

“Kellin?” Mom asked.

“Fucking cockblock is what he is.”

“Well that ‘cockblock’ was with me before I met you and he’ll be with me long after you’re gone.”

I smiled. It was good to know that one of my parents appreciated my existence.

“Fuck Mary, just shut up! I don’t wanna deal with this.” Without another word Rick stumbled out the kitchen to the living room.

I watched Mom as she picked up a broom and began to sweep the shattered glass in front of her. I wanted to make my presence known, but she looked like that would only upset her more. Instead I walked to the corner of the kitchen and picked up the dustpan. I held it on the floor, close to the mess.

“I know you heard that,” Mom sighed. I didn’t look at her, and I know she didn’t look at me. We both just stared at the glass at our feet.

“It’s getting pretty bad,” I said after a moment of silence.

“I know,” she sighed.

Once the mess was cleaned up I treated Mom to dinner. We went to a diner and just talked. We talked about school and the hospital, about my audition and the patients she’d seen; we talked about my future after high school and what exactly I wanted to do with it.

We talked about her future with Rick. I made her put the number to a locksmith on her phone and promise me that she’d leave as soon as he put his hands on her.

Rick wasn’t in the living room when we got home. In fact, he wasn’t home at all. We didn’t question it. Instead we went up to our rooms and allowed the stressful events of the last week lead our bodies to much-needed rest.

Notes

Can we talk about how Vic can't read music? Please discuss