The last thing Brady expected when he walked in to the band room was to fall in love. He was going to ask the band director to find a recording of the National Anthem to play at a weight lifting fundraiser, but of course the eccentric woman wasn't there. Brady was in no rush to return to class and he figured that as a senior juggling student council and football, he had earned the right to be a lazy bum. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling like passing out from the exhaustion of his hectic life.
Piano music drifted from one of the practice rooms. It was a slow, melancholy piece that made chill bumps rise up on his arms. He followed the sound, almost helpless under its power. He had to hear more of it, see where it came from.
He found the source of the sound. A thin, pale boy with dark hair that was longer than most boys in the small town of Westmore wore their hair. It looked soft though, shiny. The boy's eyes were like a starless night sky and seemed to focus on nothing in particular. Brady watched his hands move across the keyboard. It was almost erotic the way his fingers made the music.
Brady stopped himself right there. What was he thinking? Erotic? Brady was straight. He liked girls. He liked how they looked and how they smelled and felt. But then...he watched the piano boy playing...and he loved the way he looked and he wondered how he smelled and felt.
He couldn't have those thoughts. His mother and stepfather would kill him. What would people think of him? "No," he said to himself. Blinking several times and turning his eyes away.
"What?" a voice behind him asked. Oh, how Brady hated freshman.
"Who is that?" he asked.
The pudgy girl with unfortunate skin squinted her eyes and looked into the room. "Ezra, the new kid. He's in your class."
Brady examined the boy again. Ezra was much smaller than any senior guy that Brady had ever seen. But that didn't really matter. Ezra looked like an angel and the music he played was nearly as beautiful as he was. Again, Brady mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't be calling another guy beautiful. He was not gay.
The freshman girl had been talking the whole time Brady was lost in thought and he had to ask her to repeat herself.
"He's like weird," the girl said. "He doesn't talk or anything. I think he's like special ed or something."
**
Later Brady's eyes were drawn to Ezra as he walked across the cafeteria. Standing, Ezra looked even smaller than Brady had first guessed. He was about five foot one and maybe a little over a hundred pounds. His clothes were all black or grey and his eyes showed the same vacant expression Brady had seen when Ezra was playing the piano.
"Hey," he said to his friends, "did you guys hear there's a new senior?"
"Yeah, some piano guy," Bryan said, before resuming the process of shoveling food into his mouth.
His friends didn't seem interested in the topic, but Brady did not give up. "Do any of you guys have a class with him?" he asked.
Bryan's smart girlfriend piped up. "He's in advanced math with me."
"What do you think of him?"
Paul laughed and said, "Why so interested, Walker? Got a little crush on him."
"Shut up," Brady snapped. He and Paul had always been rivals when it came to sports and girls. More often than not, Brady won, but Paul never failed to make life difficult for him.
"I didn't know you swung that way," Paul continued, and soon half of the group at the table was snickering.
"I don't, just ask your girlfriend," Brady said. Their lunch companions were loving the conflict and all of them reacted to what Brady said with a simultaneous "Ohhh!"
Paul's smile dropped and he stood, slamming his fists against the table. "Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."
Bryan sensed the situation escalating and intervened, "Easy now, no need to get into that." At that moment the bell rang, but Brady knew his comment would not go unpunished.
**
After school, Brady paced in front of the band room, debating going in. He wasn't even sure Ezra was there, but he just wanted a chance to see him again. Finally, he went in.
"Brady!" the band director said loudly, rushing over to him. "How are you? How is your mom? Great job in the game last Friday! You know you're the band's favorite!!"
He smiled, and accepted the compliment, but the truth was he kind of hated the attention sometimes. "I'm good and so is my mom. Mrs. S, I was wondering if you had a recording of The Star-Spangled Banner. The principal wants it played before the fundraiser this weekend."
