The First One

We are playing badly. The piece is not particularly challenging for any of us, but still we sound lost. The chair I am sitting in is not made for cello playing, by any stretch. I hear a rhythm spiral off into disarray, and make a mental note. And then, suddenly, he is laughing. We put our instruments down for the fourth time.

"Get a hold of yourself"

"I'm so close to telling Ms. P"

"For god's sake. It's just a number"

The scolding does not affect him. Never did. None of us are really mad anyway.

"We got lost 48"

***

Her red hair covers her eyes for a minute. It's windy.
"C'mon. You do. Don't you?"
"You're freaky, Emma"

"I knew it."

"That's really strange. Can't be that obvious"
"No, it isn't. I just know you, Pip. God, can't believe I guessed"
"Shut up"
"How long?"
"Uh. About a week?"
"I can't believe I guessed him"

***

My shirt sticks to the back of my neck. The sun is unbearable. I hate hot weather. Hate it. Sean has been asking me what I am doing constructively. Can't really answer him truthfully:

I've been waiting for him to show up all summer.
Formulating what to wear on the first day of school.
Thinking about that time his Mum offered me a mint. Worrying.
Waiting.

***

I can't really decide if I look nice or not. My hair is frizzy. Bad. But the shirt looks nice. Crisp. Cool and collected. I look passable. I head back out into the pavilion and see him talking to my friend, who looks beautiful, whose makeup is perfectly applied. I walk towards them.
"I'm not going to tell you"
"Please. Pleasepleaseplease"

I interject "Please what?"
He turns to me. "She wants me to fess up."
She pouts "He won't tell me who he likes. I've guessed and guessed"
He speaks to me, watching my eyes " I think you know, though"
I look from him to her. Then her to him. My stomach clenches slightly. I do know. I can't believe I didn't see it.

I nod at him.

"Yeah, I think I do"

***

My friends are wondering why I have left the fair early. I know that, as I run to the car. The part of my brain that is still calculating knows I only have a few more moments. Sean is driving. I lean into the car. I'm still okay. I climb into the passenger seat. Put my purse in between the seats. He asks me how it went. My throat is clenching now. I tell him "okay"
I let my hair cover my face, and I press my forehead to the glove compartment. My shoulders shake silently and I am sobbing like a fool. I try to suck in air. Sean asks me:
"What happened, babe."
"He likes her. He likes her."

***

I am in science. Things have blown over. We are closer now, because I stayed by him while she rejected him. Over and over. The resentment I at first felt has faded to a bruise. Science is quiet. I can think. For the first time in months, I feel like maybe there is hope. I glance at the clock. Two minutes until class starts. A slight, athletic girl skips in. She is older than I am. I think that she is pretty. She asks the teacher a question and I hear her say his name. I look up. She is whispering something to the teacher. She looks up, realizes the time and walks toward the door, laughing. The teachers yells at her "Congratulations"
I think briefly, Please, no. Not again

***

He leans over to me. Ms. P is talking. My beautiful black-haired friend is between us. No longer an obstacle.
"So yeah, it was pretty awesome" he says, belatedly.
"I can't believe she let you do that on the desks. I've always wanted to fence"
He laughs "Yeah me too."
"I think there's a club in Tacoma"
"Really?"
"Yeah. And I think they're cheap too"
He's starting to get excited. Genuinely. I can tell. I'm excited too. I've made him happy. My friend rolls her eyes.
"My god. Get married all ready." We smile

***

It's raining out. He speeds up to be with me. The athletic, pretty girl watches us together. I can tell that he is upset. She has hurt him. Again.
"What's going on?"

"We broke up."
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna kill her."
"I know you are"
My real questions remain unasked between us: Why are you still into her? What did you say to make her upset? Why don't you see me?

***

It's 10:00 at night. My pajama bottoms have flowers on them. I am climbing onto my bunk when the phone rings. I get under my blanket. Grab my book. Sean walks in. Hands me the phone. I expect Emma.

“Hello?”

“Hey, its me” His voice on the other line. In this moment 82 daydreams are becoming reality

"Oh. Hi. Its kind of late, you know. Normal people are going to bed right about now."
"Yeah well, normal people didn't just become the owners of an electric instrument, just now, did they?"

I squeal.

"You got one!"

"Yep."

"Is it awesome?"

"Very."

I have run out of things to exclaim.

"Piper?"

“Uh huh"

"I want you to be the first person to play it tomorrow, okay?"

Of course okay.

***

I arrive in the room. A crowd has gathered around him. I dart into storage to get my cello. I set up my chair and go to see him. Another girl is playing. The distortion of the notes echoes about the room.

***

We are setting up for the concert. I am folding programs. He is watching me.
"You look like Hermione Granger."
"Hmm?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Like in the movie? She's kind of-"
"No, not the movie one. She's hot. No, like in the book"
"Oh. Are you calling me ugly?"
"No."

***

"Do we turn here"
"Yes" The ice cream cup has condensation on it.
"I can't believe you know where he lives."
"Of course I know where he lives."
We turn up a road. Expensive, modern houses are passed. I remember the doorway correctly.
"Okay, here" I jump out of the car, walk to the door and ring the bell. A man, his Dad, opens the door.
"Hi, my name is Piper. Your son wanted ice cream after the concert. So, I- brought him some"
His father thanks me. Closes the door. I run back to the car.
She never brings him ice cream.

***

He is typing on the teachers computer. I note his fingers. They are long and skinny. The joints and tendons stand out. They are beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful.
"You have nice hands"
He is distracted. "What?"
"You have nice hands"
"Oh, thanks."
He doesn't know, but hands are the first thing I notice about boys.

***

It's dark out still. It is peaceful and warm inside my bed. My mother rubs my head. I do not want to wake up. I was having a good dream.
"Wake up, Pip. He'll be there today."
All of a sudden, my eyes can open.

***

I look up from playing. He avoids my glance. Strange. He's been acting weird all period long. I ask him what's wrong.
"I know who you like"
I hate the term "like". It sounds juvenile. I don't like "crush". Neither of the words are appropriate and yet they are used always.
"Oh really? And who told you?"
"A little birdie"
"Well, unless it's Demi or Emma-"
"No, it isn't"
"Well, then whoever told you is guessing. They're the only ones who know"
"My girlfriend thinks you like me" My pulse accelerates, but only slightly. As the weeks have gone on, similar comments have arisen.
"Your girlfriend is paranoid."
We don't discuss it after that. I hear him and my friend talking.
"For God's sake just admit it."
"There's nothing to admit"
"You're hopeless"
I don't like him taking this seriously. I am not ready to have him know. I need to alleviate some of this tension. I walk up to them. I pat him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry. You're one of many" I can tell my sarcasm sounds strange. My friend laughs though. I am grateful to hear her. He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Piper, I don't find you physically attractive, at all"
I know he doesn't mean it. I know that I am not repugnant. But it hurts just the same. For awhile there, everything was alright.

***

Summer. Again. Waiting. Again.
I sit at my post in the stand and watch as the people go by. People visit me and I am glad to see them. But I will not deny that I am a little disappointed when I hear my name called and realize that he has not come yet. The long-talked-about quartet, the one I organized so carefully, has been all but forgotten. He still talks about coming round to practice. But it's just an illusion really. He always has things that come up.

***

I haven't really seen him in months. He keeps standing us up for quartet practice. His blatant disregard for my time is getting to me. The fact that he is still with that cruel girl, is getting to me.

***

I expected him to be a frightening driver. But he is actually quite cautious. Uncharacteristically careful. I suppose it's because he really, really, doesn't want the car to get wrecked. He loves that car.

He is smiling at my choice of music. Not something I would normally choose. But something I knew he would like. We go past the graveyard and I direct him to my house. I can tell he likes it. But he wishes it were more modern. We never did have the same aesthetic. I think he appreciates the yard, as boys are bound to do. He talks about his girlfriend. I watch incredulously. We laugh at videos online.

It's a nice couple of hours.

But I know for certain, as he pulls out of the driveway, blasting rock music, that things will never be the same.

***

No one has caught my eye, yet. I have no one to think about. No one to scrutinize. It's liberating in a way. I still see him from time to time. There is none of the old anticipation.

In losing my love for someone, I have gained a friend. I have gained insight. I have gained confidence.


But I will never forget that first one.