Stacy's Song (2 page)

At this point, I wish I hadn't, but there was no turning back now.
“Maybe I'm speaking out of turn
but you probably should see someone and get some help.”

A bitter smile crossed his lips. “So you think I have bad habits? Want me to reform? Sinner repent?
Aren't you little miss sunshine
.
”

I ignored his sarcasm. “It would be for your own good. Just tell Liz I couldn't stay. I'm sorry.”

“Why can't you stay?” Liz returned to the living room carrying a tray of oatmeal cookies and three green jelly glasses filled to the brim with milk.

“Your friend thinks there's something wrong with me.”

Liz looked upset. She set down the heavy tray on the coffee table. “You deserve an apology. I should hav
e told you about Michael before
but I was afraid you wouldn't come. People are funny when they find out, especially other kids. I thought if you met Michael first then maybe it wouldn't matter so much.”

“Not matter? Well
of course it matters!”

“I just wish you'd give him a fair chance.”

“I wouldn't fit in.”

Liz's face flushed red. “Michael's adjusted to it as best he can. I can't see why other people won't give
him a fair chance. In some ways
he functions better than people who have their sight.”

I let out a gasp. “What?”

Liz furrowed her brow, a puzzled expression in evidence on her face. “You would g
et used to being around Michael
just the way I have. He can't help being blind.”

I collapsed into a large, over-stuffed chair breathing in a heavy dose of dust. The heat in my own face burned. I realized what a fool I'd made of myself jumping to the wrong conclusion. I was mortified. Was he laughing at me, behind his dark glasses?

Then the anger erupted inside my head. My right temple throbbed. “I wish you had told me before. It would have saved us all a lot of embarrassment.” I got up and started for the door.

“No
wait! You have to stay and hear our music.
Then if you still want to leave
I won't say anything.” Liz addressed her
brother. “Michael
,
please play for her!” Liz was so assertive that he didn't dare refuse.

He crossed to the piano bench and began to play without hesitation. From the first note, I didn't stir. After five minutes, Liz picked up the guitar and joined him. The music held me like a magician's spell. I'd never heard anything quite like it before, or since. Michael's sound was unique, special, a haunting melody with a hard, driving rhythm that moved my emotions, an intensity of passion that gripped me. Only the best music ever did this to me. But I was soon aware that none of the music was happy. It all expressed pain, loss, yearning.

His playing had a force, a vitality that compelled my attention. Then he began to sing in a voice that insinuated intimacy, intoning lyrics so moving in their anguish that I
be
came
pierced to the heart. The power and beauty of his raw emotion hypnotized me. It was as if the spirit deep within me had found its soul mate.

When the music finally ended
I was aware of two things: Michael Norris was a creative musician and also an unhappy human being. And I had fallen in love with his music.

Liz turned to me
with an eager expression. “Well,
what did you think?”

“Unique,” I said, finding it difficult to speak.

“She hated it,” Michael interpreted, his mouth turned downward in a grim expression.

“Oh no
,
just the reverse.
Your music is wonderful, way special. I particularly liked your Corona of the Sun. It was so sensitive, such wonderful lyrics, but so sad.”

“So you'd rather not play with us, right?” His voice was hostile and accusing again.

“I didn't say that!”

“Good, then you'll work with us?” Liz asked. Her eyes brightened with expectation.

“I'm not a composer.”

“That doesn't matter,” Liz responded. “Michael likes doing that part himself.”

“Sing!” Michael said. “I need to hear your voice.”

“Who do you think you are—the Phantom of the Opera?”

I resented the way he was trying to order me around. But then I reminded myself he had played for me. It seemed only fair that I should return the favor. I s
at
beside him at the piano
aware that our shoulders were touching. I began to play
Y
esterday
,
one of my favorite Beatles classics. Then I sang. I was halfway through the ballad when Michael stopped me.

“That's enough,” he said with an abruptness that hurt.

“Something wrong?” I snapped back at him.

“No, matter of fact, it sounded just right. Liz has a good ear. You do have the sound we need. If you're half as good a musician, we're going to have a great sound.”

The doorbell rang and Liz went to answer it. Moments later, she was followed into the room by
a lean muscular boy with curly
copper hair.

“Stacy, I'd like to introduce you to Jimmy
,
who'll handle drums for us.”

Jimmy held out a clammy hand to me with fingernails encrusted in grime. I recognized him from school; he was a year ahead of me.

“I'm glad you could make it. Maybe we could have our first practice today.”

Jimmy nodded his head and offered an agreeable smile. “Sure, my old man doesn't need me at the garage ‘til later anyway.”

“Okay
” I said, “I'll sta
y
but I better call my mother and tell her I'll be late getting home.” I rummaged through my backpack and found my cell phone. It rang several times before the phone got picked up at my house.

“Hello, this is Star Ship Ten
Captain speaking.”

I sighed dee
ply. “Listen
,
squirt
,
put Mom on.”

“Mom who? Captains don't have moms onboard ship.”

“Andy!”

Okay, oka
y!” My ten-year-old brother can
be a nuisance at times. He has the wildest imagination of anyone I know, a real sci-fi freak. I would have no objection to launching him on a spacecraft to Jupiter.

A moment or two passed before I heard my mother's voice. I told her where I was and what I would be doing.

“Do I know this Liz Norris?” Already she sounded worried, typical of Mom. I explained to her about the band thing. I figured if anyone would understand it would be my mother. After all, Mom and I did share a love of music. “All right,” she said, “but if
you stay there until it's dark
,
call back and I'll pick you up.” I agreed and then got off the phone.

Back in the living room, Jimmy and Liz set up for the practice session. Jimmy had brought drums. I could tell the way Liz looked at Jimmy that she liked him a lot. He had the same way of looking at her. Liz brought me one of the electric guitars and demonstrated it. Then she handed me some music. I studied it carefully until I could hear it in my head. The electric guitar was not as difficult to pick up as I thought it would be. Michael stayed at the piano. Within an hour, we sounded surprisingly good together. Michael had us try a vocal arrangement of his
Corona of the Sun. He told me to sing lead while he joined in, harmonizing his voice to mine. It amazed me how well we b
lended together. When we finished
Liz and Jimmy broke into applause.

“That was fantastic!” Liz exclai
med. “I knew it was a good song
but now it sounds like a great one.”

“Top of the charts,” Jimmy agreed, making a thumbs-up sign.

“No, it still needs work,” Michael remarked with a moody jerk of his head.

“Maybe,
” Liz said, “but you can't deny
we've got a special sound here, something magic
al
.”

Michael didn't say anything
nor
did his face change expression
but I thought that he had to agree with Liz. Part of it was the qua
lity of the music itself. Still
we did perform together in an exciting way. The whole seemed more than the sum of the parts.

I lost track of time. It was dark when we finished. I regretted having to call my mother back and have her pick me up, but it couldn't be helped.

“I'd like us to practice together three time
s
a week,” Michael said, “even more if we can manage it. We've still got a long way to go if we're going to develop a professional sound and repertoire.”

“I can't practice that often,” I objected.

“Why not?” he challenged. He stood up and walked over to me. We were just about the same height, but he was trying to impose himself and intimidate me. I had no intention of letting him pull that.

“I have other things to do as well.”

“Like what?” he persisted.

“Like homework.”

“I won't interfere with that.”

“And then there's cheerleading practice.”

He let out a deep groan. “Don't tell me you're one of the rah-rah girls.”

I hated his sarcastic tone. “Not yet, but my friend and I are trying out for the squad.”

“God help you if you make it!”

I felt my cheeks glow hot. “Don't underestimate cheerleading. It takes a lot of skill and hard work.” I knew I sounded defensive but I truly resented his belittling tone. “You'll just have to accept the fact that I can't always be at your beck and call. I can divide my time.”

“That might not be good enough. There may come a time when you'll have to choose. If that should happen, I'd like to know where your real loyalty is. I don't want you walking out on us just when we need you. It would be better if you were honest from the start. Can we count on you?”

The urgent way he spoke, I almost felt that he was talking about m
ore than forming a band. Anyway
I never got to reply because Liz stepped between us.

“Why don't you stay for dinner? You and Jimmy are both welcome.”

“No, I couldn't, thanks. My parents expect
me home. Besides
I wouldn't want to intrude on your family meal.”

Liz cast her eyes downward as if I had said something hurtful.

“Hey, you can'
t intrude on what doesn't exist
,
” Michael said. The bitterness was back.

“I don't understand.”

“Skip it.” He turned his back toward me.

“Wha
t Michael means,” Liz explained
“is that our father is dead and our mother works very long hours. She rarely has dinner with us. We'r
e on our own. Lucky for Michael
I en
joy cooking—kind of. So you see
meals are pretty informal around here. You can stay and eat with us anytime.” Liz's great gray eyes looked somber, much older than her fifteen years. I had a sudden glimpse into her life and realized how lucky I was in comparison.

Anyway, Jimmy took Liz up on her dinner invitation and she seemed pleased. It also amazed me how well Jimmy managed to get along with Michael, but then anyone could tell Jimmy had an easy-going disposition. It would be difficult for even someone with Michael's temperament not to like Jimmy.

Liz walked me out to the porch to wait for my mother. She see
med to want to talk further. “I
hope you understand why I didn't tell you about Michael in advance.”

“I think I do,” I replied.

Liz pushed her pale bangs back from her heart-shaped face. “It was just that I wanted you to come here today. I knew once you heard Michael's music you'd be hooked. A lot of people are put off by the fact that he's handicapped. Kids are especially funny about that. They don't want to bother with someone who's disabled, like they thin
k he's weird or something
or maybe they think his handicap will rub off on them.”

“What bothers me about Michael isn't his blindness, it's his attitude.”

“I know,” Liz conceded. “He i
s a difficult person, but it's
been rough on him since the accident.”

“Accident?” I repeated thinking I must sound like a pet parrot.

“Yeah, when Michael lost his sight. It was horrible for him. Outwar
dly he's adjusted to it. He's
doing
well in his school. But inside
he hasn't come to terms with it. That's why the music is so important. You see that, don't you?” Liz waited for me to respond.