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Description
KIMI

A common starter for teen movies is the "new girl". No one knows her, she knows no one, and she's SO nervous. Her mom comes into her room the night before her first day and smoothes the hair on her daughter's forehead. She soothes her, finding the best, most reassuring words. "I know you're scared, sweetie, but I want you to remember that this is a whole new start for you! You're a beautiful, great girl, and people will see that. I know you'll make new friends."

And then, amazingly, she does! On the first day! Actually, she feels a deeper connection to them than she ever had to her old friends! They rock the school and defeat the mean girl. She gets the hottest guy by the end of the movie, who, by the way, was drawn to her mystique since the very first day.

Yeah…not so much.

Here's how the day's been for me:

1.) When I finally found a parking place, someone swerved past me into it, making me
2.) late for my first class, Music History, which is probably why Mr. James stared at me. I mean, what loser is late on their first day? And of course I had to continue his biography of Brahms, since he's one of my favorites.
3.) I sat down at an empty lunch table with my yogurt. A pack of girls sat at my table, but decisively three chairs away from me. I listened for what felt like an eternity to names that had no meaning to me. Eventually I said hello and offered my name, only to giggles.

I've decided to explore the school with the remainder of my lunch period. Maybe I'll find an unused classroom and eat or skip there. I mean, if people are going to treat me like I'm anonymous, I might as well be. Actually, it'd be quite a relief, not being The Girl Who- never mind. I promised myself I wouldn't think of that.

Familiar notes trill…did someone lose their cell phone? Probably not, as not many people set their ring tone to musical theatre.

I follow the song till I reach the music room. The door is hooked open. Tentatively, I step inside, to find my teacher playing the piano. With all those chairs empty, it's as if they're the ones listening, like something out of Fantasia.

I know this song! It's from…Les Mis? I first heard it on Dawson's Creek, and sang it at a recital.

I relax into the wall and mouth the second verse:

"In the rain
The pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever…"

His head jerks up, and his hands stumble, making a horrible, jarring sound. I guess I wasn't mouthing after all.

"I- I'm sorry. I just heard the song, because I was walking around, because I have no one to talk to at lunch, and, um, I'm sure you're busy, so I'll go now…"

"It's okay," he says softly. He lets his head hang over the keyboard and plays a chord.

I walk backwards, slowly, but he says, "No, really, it's okay. So, are you in choir?"

"Oh, uh, no. I'm not, uh…I don't really do well in groups."

Understatement of the year. Nothing ever went right when I was in choir. Either the director hated me for "Showing off", or the girls listened to me very carefully and laughed like hyenas if I ever made a mistake. That, or they gave insults wrapped in compliments, "You're really good. Why aren't you in the Advanced Choir? Oh, right, it's only for juniors. But you're so advanced! Did you get held back?"

That's why I took voice lessons and sang at relatively private recitals. Most of the girls had the same problem as I did, so they didn't judge me by it.

"I see. Well, would you like to sing the rest?"

He still wasn't looking at me as he talked. His dark hair hung over his eyes, his head still bent intently. Why was he so shy one-on-one? In class he was open, vibrant, friendly. Maybe he was just annoyed that I was interrupting his break.

"Um, sure. I know the song, so…"

I clear my throat on the chord, which I know is played at the rest before the next verse.

"And I know it's only in my mind,
that I'm talking to myself and not to him.
And altough I know that he is blind,
still I say, there's a way for us.

I love him,
But when the night is over,
He is gone, the river's just a river.
Without him the world around me changes,
the trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.

I love him,
But every day I'm learning,
all my life I've only been pretending.
Without me his world will go on turning,
a world that's full of happiness that I have never known.

I love him...I love him...I love him,
but only on my own….:

He finally looks up, with a smile and his bright grey eyes revealed. "You should really consider joining choir. That was- that was very good."

"I'll think about it," I lie. I've already thought about it, and schools are all the same. Girls are all the same.

"So…um…this is going to sound a bit off, but have you ever heard of someone called Maeve Fairholm?"

For some reason this question gives me major déjà vu. Wait…I totally remember now. I was sleeping over at Aimee's house, this plumber stared at me like I was the ghost of freaking Christmas past, and asked if I was related to Maeve Fairholm.

I was actually a bit impressed- he didn't check me out, as I was the young meat, as most men would've- and have- in that situation. Though that might've been because he was too preoccupied checking out Aimee's mom…

I'm about to say, "I've never hear that before in my life," but what comes out instead is, "I have, actually. A guy asked me if I was related to her, but I said no, because I didn't know who she was. Well, I still don't. Who was…is…she?"

"Was."

"Oh. So, she d-"

"No one important," he says briskly. His face is completely relaxed, not a muscle tense, but his eyes give him away. The flicker in them is gone, they are like blank sheets of paper: unwritten, unknown.

"Alright, then.."
The bell rings, a warning. I shouldn't be here.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mr. James says, closing his thick book of notes and treble clefs.

"Right."

I leave, carrying a feeling of uneasiness with me. Our goodbyes were tense. The last moment we spent together was taut, a rubber band waiting to spring forward. What, exactly, were we waiting for?

***

ALAN

God. What the hell was that?

My head falls to the keyboard, and notes of confusion ring in my ears.

Description
KIMI

A common starter for teen movies is the "new girl". No one knows her, she knows no one, and she's SO nervous. Her mom comes into her room the night before her first day and smoothes the hair on her daughter's forehead. She soothes her, finding the best, most reassuring words. "I know you're scared, sweetie, but I want you to remember that this is a whole new start for you! You're a beautiful, great girl, and people will see that. I know you'll make new friends."

And then, amazingly, she does! On the first day! Actually, she feels a deeper connection to them than she ever had to her old friends! They rock the school and defeat the mean girl. She gets the hottest guy by the end of the movie, who, by the way, was drawn to her mystique since the very first day.

Yeah…not so much.

Here's how the day's been for me:

1.) When I finally found a parking place, someone swerved past me into it, making me
2.) late for my first class, Music History, which is probably why Mr. James stared at me. I mean, what loser is late on their first day? And of course I had to continue his biography of Brahms, since he's one of my favorites.
3.) I sat down at an empty lunch table with my yogurt. A pack of girls sat at my table, but decisively three chairs away from me. I listened for what felt like an eternity to names that had no meaning to me. Eventually I said hello and offered my name, only to giggles.

I've decided to explore the school with the remainder of my lunch period. Maybe I'll find an unused classroom and eat or skip there. I mean, if people are going to treat me like I'm anonymous, I might as well be. Actually, it'd be quite a relief, not being The Girl Who- never mind. I promised myself I wouldn't think of that.

Familiar notes trill…did someone lose their cell phone? Probably not, as not many people set their ring tone to musical theatre.

I follow the song till I reach the music room. The door is hooked open. Tentatively, I step inside, to find my teacher playing the piano. With all those chairs empty, it's as if they're the ones listening, like something out of Fantasia.

I know this song! It's from…Les Mis? I first heard it on Dawson's Creek, and sang it at a recital.

I relax into the wall and mouth the second verse:

"In the rain
The pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever…"

His head jerks up, and his hands stumble, making a horrible, jarring sound. I guess I wasn't mouthing after all.

"I- I'm sorry. I just heard the song, because I was walking around, because I have no one to talk to at lunch, and, um, I'm sure you're busy, so I'll go now…"

"It's okay," he says softly. He lets his head hang over the keyboard and plays a chord.

I walk backwards, slowly, but he says, "No, really, it's okay. So, are you in choir?"

"Oh, uh, no. I'm not, uh…I don't really do well in groups."

Understatement of the year. Nothing ever went right when I was in choir. Either the director hated me for "Showing off", or the girls listened to me very carefully and laughed like hyenas if I ever made a mistake. That, or they gave insults wrapped in compliments, "You're really good. Why aren't you in the Advanced Choir? Oh, right, it's only for juniors. But you're so advanced! Did you get held back?"

That's why I took voice lessons and sang at relatively private recitals. Most of the girls had the same problem as I did, so they didn't judge me by it.

"I see. Well, would you like to sing the rest?"

He still wasn't looking at me as he talked. His dark hair hung over his eyes, his head still bent intently. Why was he so shy one-on-one? In class he was open, vibrant, friendly. Maybe he was just annoyed that I was interrupting his break.

"Um, sure. I know the song, so…"

I clear my throat on the chord, which I know is played at the rest before the next verse.

"And I know it's only in my mind,
that I'm talking to myself and not to him.
And altough I know that he is blind,
still I say, there's a way for us.

I love him,
But when the night is over,
He is gone, the river's just a river.
Without him the world around me changes,
the trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.

I love him,
But every day I'm learning,
all my life I've only been pretending.
Without me his world will go on turning,
a world that's full of happiness that I have never known.

I love him...I love him...I love him,
but only on my own….:

He finally looks up, with a smile and his bright grey eyes revealed. "You should really consider joining choir. That was- that was very good."

"I'll think about it," I lie. I've already thought about it, and schools are all the same. Girls are all the same.

"So…um…this is going to sound a bit off, but have you ever heard of someone called Maeve Fairholm?"

For some reason this question gives me major déjà vu. Wait…I totally remember now. I was sleeping over at Aimee's house, this plumber stared at me like I was the ghost of freaking Christmas past, and asked if I was related to Maeve Fairholm.

I was actually a bit impressed- he didn't check me out, as I was the young meat, as most men would've- and have- in that situation. Though that might've been because he was too preoccupied checking out Aimee's mom…

I'm about to say, "I've never hear that before in my life," but what comes out instead is, "I have, actually. A guy asked me if I was related to her, but I said no, because I didn't know who she was. Well, I still don't. Who was…is…she?"

"Was."

"Oh. So, she d-"

"No one important," he says briskly. His face is completely relaxed, not a muscle tense, but his eyes give him away. The flicker in them is gone, they are like blank sheets of paper: unwritten, unknown.

"Alright, then.."
The bell rings, a warning. I shouldn't be here.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mr. James says, closing his thick book of notes and treble clefs.

"Right."

I leave, carrying a feeling of uneasiness with me. Our goodbyes were tense. The last moment we spent together was taut, a rubber band waiting to spring forward. What, exactly, were we waiting for?

***

ALAN

God. What the hell was that?

My head falls to the keyboard, and notes of confusion ring in my ears.