Those That Which Are Talented: Chapter One (Part One of Two)

Chapter One (Part One of Two)

Today was my first day attending, Academy of the Liberal Arts, the highly regarded private school for the arts where only a select few were chosen to attend. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was expecting something. I sort of expected everything to be either completely dysfunctional or seemingly perfect.

I stepped in the front gate and immediately I could tell everyone was separated into different counterparts. I’m guessing they were all separated by what they liked, it was a liberal arts school after all. There was probably a multitude of cliques in this school and I knew that I would have to expect student rivalry for sure. This was not any different from a normal school, it was just an academy and for some reason that made it better.

I felt awkward just standing around so I finally found an empty spot not taken by the few kids that attend the school. Only a few 100 kids attend the school for each grade, because this was not your typical school.

It had all grades, K-12. About only 1300 kids attend this school, but seeing how the school is huge, it makes everything seem small in perspective.

I was sitting alone still when a trio of girls comes up to me. The blonde one, who was obviously the leader, slammed her hands down on the table and tapped her index finger against the table quite close to where my hand was located. She looked at me and rolled her eyes, “Are you like new here?”

“Yes, I’m Kalliope. What’s your name?” I asked trying to be nice. Since this is a private school and all, I decided that if I am going to live here it would be in my best interest to be nice to everyone.

“My name?” She laughed at my question as if everyone were supposed to be aware of who she was. “Look, Pee Girl, this isn’t elementary school. Not even the first graders introduce themselves like that! If you really must know, my name is Piper Hall. Remember that name, Pee Girl!”

I still sat there at the table looking at her in awe and amazement as to why she would dare pick on me. I never really did fit in at my other school either, but no one ever called me Pee Girl!

“Well, what are you waiting for?” one of her cronies asked me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. It was a stupid question. I knew exactly what they meant, but I was just acting naïve.

“Get off of our table, Pee Girl!” Piper said. The bell rang at the moment though, way to say saved by the bell.

I got off of their table and walked quickly towards my first class of the day.

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All the classes in the school were divided into buildings, so there were five buildings and each of those buildings had numerous sections. Everyone took one of each class even if it wasn’t there forte. If you specialized in singing like I did, you’d still have to take a class for instruments and a class for acting and so on. They wanted everyone to be talented and make their school well known. It was of high-status after all. Only the best of the best went here!

I was standing outside room A-101. It was the first thing you saw when you stepped inside Building A. The two big red doors looked almost intimidating to me, but I would not get scared so soon. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Piper without her two cronies, but she definitely didn't need them to stand out. All she had to do was flip her luxurious blonde hair and everyone was staring at her. I considered that maybe this was not a girl I would want to get mad considering she had an effect on people.

As the crowd deteriorated I was left with a group of about twenty people. They were all my age which wasn't very reassuring, considering that would mean I’d spend my next two years (I’m in 11^th grade) here with that Piper girl.

The bell rang again letting the students know that they were late and that class had already begun commencing.

A most handsome teacher opened the big red doors with quite the spectacle, too. He opened both doors with his arms pushing out at the same time and he held them above his head as if he were ready to be lathered in praise for doing something so extravagant.

It probably didn't seem like such a spectacle to the other kids, considering no one seemed as amazed as I was. I’m glad no one was able to see my awe-stricken look, because I was in the back of the group.

As I neared the door, the teacher looked at me with a perplexed face. “Ah, so you’re the new girl or do I just not notice my students these days?”

“Um, I’m new,” I said trying not to blush as I looked at him. I've never had someone so good-looking teach me any subject before. Sure, there were decent looking teachers, but no one so attractive.

“Well, then I have quite the task for you,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Take a seat anywhere you want.”

“Okay,” I said and I sat by myself in the middle. I didn't want to be too far back that the teacher thought I wasn't trying to learn and I didn't want to be in the front where the teacher would be looking at me especially not with his face.

“So, I’m sure students that you noticed the new student. Sing hello class,” the teacher directed.

“Hello,” the class sang. It was strange hearing a bunch of kids sing at the same time no matter how good their voices sounded.

“Now then, we all know how it was the first time you entered my class, I randomly made you guys sing whichever song I chose for you, didn't I?”

The class answered but not in unison and I saw a few of the students in front of me turn around and grimace or smirk.

“Well, I don’t find it fair to let someone else not enjoy the fun, so why don’t we have you sing a song my dear. Come down here with me,” he beckoned.

I stood up from my seat and I felt like everyone was boring holes into me. I walked cautiously down the stairs feeling that if I didn't I’d fall and trip, but no I just got scolded, “Now then dear, don’t make us wait.”

“Sorry,” I said rushing down to where he was.

“Alright now that you’re here dear, let’s see what I have in store for you,” he said pulling out a jar filled with tiny pieces of paper.

“Alright, you get to sing. . .” I was dreading what he would say. “Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. You got a good one! That was the first song I ever sang in front of an audience.”

“Uh, do I sing that right now,” I asked with a face of worry.

“Yes, you do,” he said. “Don’t worry about background music, just start singing when I put it on.” He handed me a microphone and went to his computer and started playing the song.

I started singing very quietly into the microphone, because I wasn't one to sing without practicing the song and I had practiced this song, but I had never performed it in front of anyone before.

“Can’t you sing louder?” Piper said.

As it started saying, “Open my eyes look up to the skies and see,” my voice got louder.

“Fantastic!” the teacher started saying, “Get your voice out there!”

I smiled and started acting out the song like the weird performer I was.

I made my fingers look like a miniature gun when I sang, “Put a gun against his head.” I had so much emotion now and I didn't even regard the fact that all these people were watching me. I know twenty doesn't seem like a lot, but when they’re all music aficionados you get a bit scared that you’ll get criticized.

“Hey, she’s pretty good,” I heard someone say.

When I sang, “Didn't mean to make you cry if I'm not back again this time tomorrow,” the teacher spun around in his chair enthusiastically. That made me so happy. I was SO happy. Praise from him was everything.

I hugged myself as I sang, “Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time,” and I waved good bye to the class as I sang the next line.

I was always an energetic girl when I’d perform at my old school’s talent show, so this was no big deal for me, but I was still shocked that I’d do it here on my first day!

The guitar solo came up and someone started clapping, because soon everyone was clapping (except for that Piper girl I could see her rolling her eyes and flipping her hair, but no one seemed to care at all). I felt so happy.

I walked over to the teacher gracefully, but he was full aware of what I was going to say next. “I see a little silhouetto of a man.”

To which I put the microphone next to his grinning lips so he’d sing, “Scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango.”

“Thunder bolt and lightning very, very frightening me,” I sang. This was my favorite part in the song. This whole section. Especially the Galileo part. Absolutely my favorite.

“I’m just a poor boy nobody loves me,” I sang and I stopped and let the music play out. “Easy come easy go will you let me go.” I was holding the hand of a girl in the audience and then I twirled away back to the center of the stage.

“Never let me go!” I sang with my arms in the air as the teacher had done earlier when he opened the doors.

Then as the rest of the song played out and as it finished I got a standing ovation. I’d never gotten one before, so my face must have been shocked because the teacher told me, “Smile, dear, you performed marvelously!”

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“You may sit,” he said. “You did a good job.”

I sat back down with a sense of relief and confidence. I felt that I had surprised everybody, especially Piper who didn't dare look back at me.

“Alright, class, shall we begin today’s lesson. . .” he said and then someone came in the room late. It was a blonde guy with long hair, but it looked nice on him. It was actually quite aristocratic.

“Sander, it’s nice of you to join us,” the teacher who still hadn't introduced himself to me yet said to the boy who’d just walked in.

“Mr. Miller,” the boy started. The teacher’s name was not as extravagant as I thought it would be. “You know that my names Lysander.”

“No Sander, no one knows your name. You should think with that mentality or else you will get nowhere with your career.”

He rolled his eyes and sat down next to me. Everyone was looking at him like he was crazy. They started whispering and he looked at them like they were crazy. “What’s the matter?! Can I not sit in my regular seat, next to someone who decided to take the seat next to my regular seat?”

They turned around and he scoffed at them. He was just like the teacher, (I refuse to call him Mr. Miller!) dramatic but in a different way. Even his clothes were dramatic, they looked like they belonged on someone in the Victorian Ages. A frilly shirt with a jabot collar, a waistcoat that fit exceptionally, and a pair of elegant pants with heeled shoes. He belonged in that time period!

“What’s your name, girl?” he asked. “Don't think I didn't just hear you from outside.”

“Kalliope,” I said.

“Kalliope.  .  .What a befitting name,” he said crossing his legs. “You sing nice. I didn't see your display, but it must have been good for them to be clapping.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re new aren't you?” he asked tilting my head towards him. That was extremely uncomfortable for me, because I didn't know what he was trying to say with this gesture and I couldn't help but blush, because that’s all my stupid face ever did.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered not wanting to stutter.

“Don’t be scared,” he said chuckling. “I mean nothing by it. I’m just trying to look into your eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul. If you’re eyes had looked dull, I would have thought you had no soul. Simple, yes?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Do you know that everyone is trying to listen to our conversation? I mean Mr. Miller might be talking up there about how our voices are sensitive instruments—I know one much more sensitive—but he surely knows that the rest of the class has their attention on us.”

“Are you one of those people that people love to hate?” I asked him casually.

“Why, yes, I am! You’re very perceptive! I've never encountered a girl who’s actually smart.” He ran his fingers through his hair and proceeded to take off his coat.

“How drab,” the boy said looking at his nails. “I forgot to paint my nails black.”

I stared at him not knowing how to reply to his statement sensibly and then he looked down at my nails, which were painted a blood red.

“Ooh, I like your nails, but I never paint mine anything but black,” he said. “Colors look much too uncanny on a male. Black is just fine.”

I didn't know how to reply to that either and so I just sat there next to him while he held my hand in his. He was a strange boy, very strange indeed.

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My next class was art. I always liked art, but I could only draw what was in front of me. Apparently, Lysander and I have all the same classes. I found that very strange, but let it be. Fate may have brought us together.

“Your hands are very cold, Kalliope,” he mentioned as we walked on to Building C.

“They are?” I asked.

“Yes, I was surprised and they didn't even warm up while we were holding hands, they just stayed cold,” he said tapping his cheek with a pout.

“Well, I’m not very aware of things like that,” I admitted. “That’s all.”

“You know, you’d look very cute in a petticoat skirt,” he said out of nowhere, but so nonchalantly that I was forced to believe it was something normal.

“You think so,” I said with a smile.

“Yes, your face, skin, and body are just like a porcelain dolls,” he said with his eyes closed in admiration.

“This is the class, isn't it?” I asked tugging on his waistcoat needily.

“Yes,” he said patting my head. “Don’t you worry, Kalliope, I’ll guide you the right way every time.”

“Really, because you were the one who almost passed it,” I said.

“Yes, yes, but that was one mistake. All humans make them,” he said.

“I. . .I suppose so,” I replied with a smile.

“Cohme een clahss,” the art teacher said. She was wearing a beret and she was obviously French, not only because of the beret but because of her accent. Her accent was very easy to understand though so there was not much of a problem with that. In fact, I liked it very much.

“Ah, ze new ztu-dent,” she said. “Cohme, cohme, seet next to Malehr-ee!”

I sat down next to the girl whose eyes looked somber and full of thought. She turned her head to look at me and gave me a small, polite smile. “Hi, I’m Malerei!”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Kalliope!”

“That’s a cool name,” she said quietly. “I've always wanted a cool name.”

“Your name is cool,” I said.

“It’s only spelled cool, but I’m just another Mallory,” she said stretching her hands and yawning.

“The spelling can make all the difference between a cool name and a normal name you know,” I said. “So technically your name is really cool.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” she said. “I just have a really negative outlook on life, but in a funny way.”

“Dark humor then?” I suggested.

“Yes, I guess it would be considered dark humor,” she said. We stopped talking when the teacher, Ms. Devereux—her name was written on the board—began speaking.

“Okay, clahss, we are,” She held the ‘r’ in are for a long time. “Goeeng to draw our partnehr today.”

“You’re my partner right?” I whispered to Malerei.

She nodded.

“Eet does noht matter how you draw your partnehr, but how you cap-tyoor, your partnehr. Ohlright! Begin!”

“Okay, so when we draw each other we always put the easels together so that we’re able to look at each other better. We do this a lot actually, but usually with other people not our partner.”

“I got it,” I said. “So by capture what does she mean?”

“By capture, she means you were able to make me seem the way that you view me. My personality or how you view me, because some people could look at me and say that I’m ugly, but someone else could say that I look pretty. You get what I mean?”

“I grasp the concept,” I said with a smile. I picked up the pencil awkwardly and I looked at her. On the outside, she had short brown hair and those sad blue eyes, like a lifeless ocean. That’s what you could see on the outside, but on the inside I was able to see that she was a dark, mysterious, misunderstood girl. She was not what she seemed on the outside. Her clothes were able to show that she was dark, because she was drowned in the darkness of them, but people could see no more than a person who was trying too hard. I could see that she wasn't trying at all. At least that’s what I thought.

My pencil touched the blank canvas and I began to draw her eyes. The whole painting would be shaded, because that’s how I envisioned her. Her eyes though, I drew them like empty black holes, and her lips curved into a dark smile like a pumpkin carved on Halloween night. Her short hair flew upwards and I drew her with her fingernails painted black that ran through her veins. Her clothes were as she had them now, black, black, and more black. Around her I drew a dark aura and that was what I felt surrounded her then I decided, why not add some spider webs in the part that was shaded dark. I enjoyed drawing her, she was a very interesting character.

“Well, I’m done,” she said. “You?”

“I’m done, too,” I said.

          “Okay, we can turn the easels back to how they were,” she said turning hers. I turned mine following suit to her action.

          She looked at my picture with wide eyes and laughed. “You really did catch my dark essence. Here’s what I did. Hope you like it.”

          I looked at the picture she drew of me that did not include colors as well. My eyes were drawn big, my head was tilted upwards, and my mouth was ajar with a slight smile like I knew something that no one else knew and I had on my regular clothing, but it somehow fit me better in the picture than it ever would in real life. No wonder Dorian Gray wanted to be just like his portrait.

          “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Nothing like me in real life.”

          “Don’t be so modest,” she said. “You’re beautiful in real life, too. In a quirky kind of way.”

          “Key words: in a quirky kind of way,” I said giggling.

          “I don’t mean anything by it. I think that’s cool,” she said.

          “Well, thanks,” I said.

          Ms. Devereux snuck up behind us and looked at our pictures, “Very goohd, gehrls.”

          “Thank you, Ms. Devereux,” Malerei said.

          “Thank you,” I said.

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