AGE FIFTEEN
Noelle hummed a quiet melody as she checked the time on her watch.
Two o’clock.
The piano room was all hers.
The corners of her lips tipped up in a satisfied smile as she opened the door, locking it behind her and taking a deep breath.
Few things brought her joy—true joy—but the piano was one. It was the only place where she could be herself, where she could lose herself among the myriad of notes and experience every emotion to the fullest.
She’d recently entered high school and her mother had allowed her to enroll in a special art school that allowed students to tailor their curriculum based on their strengths and interests.
Though she still had basic subjects like English and Algebra, the focus of her education was music—history, theory, composition. More than seventy percent of her time was spent focusing on music. And she’d never been happier.
More than anything, she was also allowed to conduct her studies independently, and for a few hours each day she was given exclusive access to one of the piano rooms so she could compose and practice at leisure. No longer did she have to walk on pins and needles for fear her conflict with her teachers would interfere with her passion.
Even her relationship with her classmates had changed. The school was so focused on excellence that most people minded their business, pursuing their own goals. That in itself had allowed Noelle to relax for the first time in her life and spend her time at school without the usual unfortunate incidents.
That wasn’t to say that Noelle got along with people, or that people took to her. True to her nature, she preferred her solitude and had yet to make any friends. And though over time she’d curbed some of her wilder behavior, thanks to Cisco’s advice and mentorship, she’d long given up the desire to create relationships.
She admitted she’d grown increasingly more cynical as the years passed, and that despite her continuous efforts to make herself likable to people, it never worked. So she’d just abandoned the idea.
If people didn’t want her, why should she want them?
She was entirely more comfortable to be alone with her music. On her own. Always on her own.
Besides, though her reputation at this school wasn’t as bad as before and people didn’t go out of their way to pick on her, they still side-eyed her. She supposed it was because of her appearance and the fact that she stood out, once more, as different.
Noelle might have grown, but she had not outgrown her love for black. She draped herself from head to toe in black, and as she’d become more interested in makeup, she’d started kohling her eyes with a black liner too.
Her teachers had objected at first, as had her mother and her brother. Yet despite their many protestations, she’d continued to adorn herself as she felt comfortable. Eventually, given her scholarly excellence, her prowess at the piano and the many prestigious awards she was collecting left and right, the school had decided it was something it could allow.
Noelle might still be odd, but now, people tolerated it.
The price of genius—as some called it. But to her, it was simply the price of sanity.
Accordingly, this time it had been her talent instead of her unusual predilections that had gained her enemies. Of course, calling Ann Marie an enemy was an exaggeration. She was merely the girl who always had a bone to pick with Noelle—mostly because they were in the same grade, and both specialized on the piano.
Though Ann Marie wasn’t on Noelle’s level, she was an extremely talented player. From the moment Noelle had entered the school, a competition of sorts had begun between the two. Unfortunately, they went to the same contests and took part in the same recitals, which meant that Ann Marie came perpetually in second place and was always compared to Noelle.
On her part, Noelle had tried to befriend the girl, thinking they could have fun together at the piano. She’d never had a friend before, let alone one who also played her favorite instrument, so for a moment she’d been excited at the prospect. But Ann Marie had refused all of Noelle’s attempts at civility, turning even the most laid back exercise into a competition.
To a certain degree, Noelle understood where the girl was coming from. Her parents were both famous in the classical world—her mother a virtuosa violinist and her father a renowned conductor. She had a legacy she needed to uphold. Noelle could imagine how hard it must be for her to not be the best at something everyone expected her to excel in.
But that didn’t mean Noelle was going to step aside just because she felt sorry for her. She valued her craft and she valued honesty and hard work. If at some point Ann Marie was going to surpass her, then so be it. Noelle would then work harder to regain her place.
She just wished Ann Marie didn’t always turn everything into a bitter contest, especially now that the school was organizing its most important competition.
It was the most awaited moment of the year, and a student in each instrument would be chosen to take part in a concert at Carnegie Hall alongside renowned names in classical music.
It was also the reason why Noelle was currently in the piano room, ready to think about her next composition and the main piece she would present at the school competition.
Dropping her bag to the ground, she took a moment to look around the room.
The chairs were all wrong, the windows closed and creating a stuffy atmosphere and the blackboard full of foreign musical annotations.
A tingle went down her spine, an itch developing at the base of her skull as she took in everything that was wrong with the way the classroom looked—everything that wasn’t as she had left it.
Quick at work, she started with the organization of the furniture before cleaning the board and opening the windows to allow for some fresh air. Only when she was done could she finally breathe out relieved, her body slowly calming down as she took in the perfection of her space. It was only for a few hours, but for that time it was hers.
Making sure the door was locked, she proceeded to dump the contents of her bag on a desk.
She might have a slight obsession with things being a certain way, but she was far from the most organized person. In fact, the messy contents of her bag exemplified the way her mind worked. A chaotic and tumultuous foundation that slowly and steadily transformed into the calm before the storm—before disintegrating back into chaos.
As she stared at her belongings, she picked what she needed at the moment—a pencil, manuscript paper, her tablet and a pair of earbuds.
Seating herself at the piano, she carefully arranged her items on top of the piano, plugging in her earbuds and positioning the tablet in front of her.
Most of the awards Noelle had won had been for performing canonic pieces, but she wanted to be eventually known for her personal compositions. If she won the school contest she would be one step closer to establishing herself in the classical field.
In the previous year, she had her first solo concert performing her interpretation of various classical pieces. Though the event had been a success, it would be nothing compared to playing in one of the most celebrated venues for classical music. By winning the upcoming contest, she would have the opportunity to stand on one of the biggest stages and share her compositions to the world.
A smile pulled at her lips as she clicked play on the tablet, resuming the show from where she’d left off.
Her contact with the outside world was limited, her self-imposed isolation a result of years of accumulated mistrust and a fear of rejection. She may not have positive personal experiences to influence her compositions—though she had plenty of negative ones—but that hadn’t stopped her from finding the most unlikely sources.
TV Shows. Movies. Books.
She lived vicariously through every single character she immersed herself in, and though she had limited experience with emotions, through others’ happiness and sorrows, their struggles and their successes, Noelle managed to see the world through different eyes.
She could live without the burden of living.
She might not have firsthand experience of love, friendship, or heart-break. But by fully transposing herself into the stories she was consuming, she felt those emotions as if they were her own. In turn, she was able to lay them down on a piece of paper and continue the infinite circle of creation.
As she resumed the episode, Noelle couldn’t help but blush as she watched a kiss between Buffy and Spike, the tension palpable even through the screen.
Pencil in hand, she grabbed the manuscript sheet, laying down note after note. Starting from the two lovers embrace she let her mind travel, closing her eyes and imagining it was her instead of Buffy. But it wasn’t Spike she was picturing with her. It was a faceless, nameless person, but someone who suffused her chest with the deepest emotion she’d ever felt.
Eyes closed, she let her hand move over the sheet of paper, the notes flowing out of her just as the image in front of her evolved, showing her different facets of love—of having someone so thoroughly hers there was no more right or wrong, just being.
And if there was no more right or wrong, no more black and white, someone could finally embrace her for who she was—accept her as she’d accept him in return.
Longing more powerful than the reflex of breathing oozed out of her pencil, black lines taking shape and contouring a story through soulful notes.
Noelle stopped thinking as she gave herself over to sensation and something that unfurled deep within her.
She didn’t know how much time passed before she finally awoke from her reverie to find pages upon pages covered in a succession of notes. And before she could lose her impetus, she placed them in front of the piano, her fingers fitted to the keys as she felt for their familiarity.
Her gaze fixed to the sheet of paper, she began playing.
What started as a sensuous melody soon gave way to a richness of sound better fitted for an organ than a regular piano. Her fingers met the keys with such vigor, the sound emanating from the instrument was equally as energetic.
It was a tale of two souls. Of two tendrils of being—two sources of energy as intertwined as finely as the most expensive silk. And what started with a juxtaposition of black and white, of low and high notes, soon led to the blending of the two shades into one, mixing so thoroughly with one another there was no way to trace their origins anymore.
Two became one. One became the only one.
Yet as the melody came to an end, Noelle’s eyes snapping open, her breathing harsh, she realized it did not have an end.
There was something missing.
She blinked, her mind whirling with befuddlement. As it often happened when she gave herself to the throes of music, she lost control of herself. Or, better said, she made contact with a part deep within her that was no longer ruled by reason—just feeling. There was a frenzy to her emotions as they oozed onto the paper before being unleashed into the world, dispersing into the air and penetrating every surface in their advance.
There was such madness to the way she gave herself to the music that she could not control nor foresee its course. Yet never before had she stopped right before the denouement.
The piece was powerful, evocative—a true heart-wrenching sound. But it was incomplete.
Noelle took a deep breath, her brows drawn up in confusion as she tried to understand where she’d gone wrong. Never before had it happened to her to compose an unfinished piece.
For a moment, she couldn’t move.
She stared at her composition, letting the rational part of her brain take over and make sense of what she’d jotted down—trying in any way to find a solution to the end. Yet the more she focused on it, the more frustrated she became when the problem grew in magnitude.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t find an end.
Her heart drummed in her chest, her ears closing in at the extreme sensation of failure that enveloped her.
She couldn’t do it…
Suddenly, she stood up, moving around the room in an effort to relax her mind. When that didn’t work, she stuck her head out the window, inhaling the fresh air in an attempt to calm herself and her rapidly increasing pulse.
From the moment she’d learned how to play the piano, she’d been one with the instrument—one with the music.
Nothing had been out of bounds for her, and her affinity for the instrument had made her special.
Where she was odd and people disliked her, she was also special, and though people still didn’t necessarily like her, they enjoyed the sound of her music.
Up until that point, Noelle had never hit a wall in her musical endeavors.
She’d been a disappointment to everyone around her, but she’d never disappointed herself.
Until now…
‘What the hell…’ she whispered, panic swelling in her chest.
She returned to the piece, reading through the notes again. She did it again and again until she could close her eyes and visualize the entire piece.
Yet the end was still elusive. It was still out of reach.
Nothing made sense.
Like hitting a hard, concrete wall, she couldn’t find a way out of the dead-end she’d locked herself in.
What started as mild trepidation quickly developed into a full blown panic attack as the walls of the room started closing in on her. Her breathing grew increasingly labored until she felt she was suffocating, and no amount of fresh air from the wide open windows was going to help her.
As she gasped for air, she realized she couldn’t sit still anymore.
Dashing to the door, she unlocked it as she ran down the hallway. She ran and ran until she made it outside, the sunlight bathing her in warmth.
Placing a hand over her eyes, she oriented herself to the sky, asking the universe for an answer she knew she would never get.
Dropping to the ground, she felt tears accumulate at the corners of her eyes, before slowly slipping down her cheeks.
Why?
Why was she crying? She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t hurt. She was just confused, and lost and…
She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes until they were red and itchy, yet the tears still wouldn’t stop.
‘Why?’ she whispered in a small, desolate voice.
She did not feel pain. But she did feel something. A void inside her chest. A hole that seemed to grow with each passing moment, with each lonely tear.
‘Why?’ she repeated again, staring at the sun and at the wide open sky.
Noelle didn’t know what she was asking. She had no clue what was happening to her and why she’d had such a breakdown—why she’d been so shaken when she usually thought herself unbothered.
She tried to rationalize it as a perfectionist’s reaction in the face of failure. But deep down she knew it was more than that.
It had to do with her—with what she lacked but pretended she did not. It had to do with all those dreams she held so tightly to herself she’d never dared tell a soul about them.
It wasn’t failure, for to fail you had to try first.
No, for Noelle it was terror. A deeply ingrained fear that she would never be enough. That she’d forever be locked in place, unable to ever hope for more—strive for more.
She was afraid that this would be her life. Her entire life.
Suddenly, music wasn’t enough anymore.
Noelle didn’t know how she got her bearings together enough to return to the piano room. Her heart was in her throat, her soul so exhausted she felt like a million years old. Yet the one constant was that feeling of loss—that void that was now transferring to her music.
She supposed it was only fair since that was the source of her talent—the well of her inspiration. And no matter how much she’d tried to fill it up with empty words and the perception of fullness, the truth always prevailed.
She was hollow.
As she closed the door behind her, she slumped on a chair.
Begrudgingly, she had to admit that it was becoming harder and harder to keep going, the emptiness inside of her growing with each day. And she recognized it exactly for what it was.
Loneliness.
Bone-reaching, Soul-searing loneliness.
Although her relationship with Cisco and his wife had improved considerably over the years, he was often too busy to entertain her, especially since the birth of his son. On the other hand, her relationship with her mother had deteriorated further.
It had been worse after her father had died, since her mother had closed herself in, her criticism becoming harsher and more acerbic, her volatility even greater than before.
The only one who could calm her was Cisco, but he was absent and unable to deal with her.
And that left…her.
Noelle did her best to keep out of her mother’s path, but that only made her home life an uncomfortable battlefield. Then there was her school and the fact that those few hours she was allowed in the piano room were her only solace.
Remove that and Noelle was left with…nothing.
She supposed she still had her computer with her games, shows and books. But sometimes those made her more melancholic as she realized there were things out there she would likely never experience.
Like traveling the world, going on an adventure…falling in love.
She sighed deeply as she realized her thoughts had taken her down a forbidden path.
Though she strove not to dwell on it, Noelle was aware that she was living on borrowed time. And that was the source of her frustration.
She knew far too well that she was only allowed to continue her education because she excelled at the piano—the only thing that made her worthy of the DeVille name. But as soon as she turned eighteen, her freedoms would be restricted, her entire life mapped out for her by her mother—as tradition dictated.
Throughout the years, she’d heard hushed conversations about her fate as the only girl in the family. From the beginning, the seed of dread had been planted, stripping her of any potential fulfillment even in the most exciting moments for she knew what awaited her eventually.
There had also been those times, during an argument, when her mother would taunt her with her future, promising she would eventually wash her hands off her and her impetuous self. Elena had never shied away from telling Noelle she couldn’t wait until her future husband would finally take the brat out of her and teach her how to behave like a proper lady.
She’d been so vehement in her threats that Noelle was certain Elena had something planned for her—something to get back at Noelle for not being the daughter she’d always wanted.
So where did that leave her?
Adrift…
Shaking her head, she ground her teeth, steeling her spine as she brought her focus back to the present.
She couldn’t let that affect her. There were still three years left until then, and if need be, Noelle was more than convinced she’d rather run away than be forced into a loveless marriage.
She couldn’t stand most people, and she barely tolerated her family. She could never allow a stranger to own her.
Anger simmered inside of her, together with a new determination.
‘I’m strong,’ she whispered to herself, her usual mantra. ‘I’m the strongest person I know. And I can overcome anything.’
She chanted the words to herself a few times, feeling her resolve strengthen. Yes, she could overcome anything. Including the musical block she was currently facing.
Armed with the new conviction, she moved to the piano, ready to give the piece another go. Her mind was clearer than it had been, her heart open and ready to gaze to the future.
‘I won’t let them,’ she murmured, tracing the notes she’d already scribbled down. ‘I won’t let anyone dictate my fate. It’s mine and mine alone.’
The more she cheered herself on, the more she let her imagination fly, opening herself to new ideas and possibilities.
Because if she wasn’t caught…if she took charge of her own life, then the sky was the limit—or maybe more. Her piece could end.
It took her the rest of the afternoon, but she finally managed to finish her piece. And as she arrived home, she locked herself in the piano room, practicing and improving her piece.
Yet in her excitement to finish her piece she didn’t realize that her music sheets had been moved, their location slightly different than she’d left them. She was too lost inside her mind to notice that.
