Face the Music (8 page)

“Hi, Chloe,” she said with a bright smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy year.”

“Have a seat.”

I sat down, still trying to repress these misplaced feelings of guilt. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been talking to some of your teachers …”

I frowned. “But my grades have been okay. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Chloe.” She tapped her fingers on her desk as if she was thinking. “And I’m not even sure that I should suggest this, but I think I would be wrong not to at least mention it.”

“What?”

“Well, your grades are great, Chloe, but more than that, your teachers feel your work is far above your grade level. Some of your papers would have earned A’s at college level.”

“Really?” Now I was stunned.

“Really. In fact, that’s why you’re here. I wouldn’t normally suggest this to a student, but you’re an exception. Since your band is doing so well and you seem to have your life going down this amazing track that other kids only dream of, I’d like to recommend that you graduate early, Chloe. But I fully realize this is your decision and you may not even want to.”

“How?” I asked eagerly. “How can I do that?”

“Oh, it’s not too difficult. You’ll have to take certain classes in the fall, and there are some tests to take. But I’m sure you’ll have no problem with it. That is, if you choose to do this. And it’s up to you, and your parents, of course.”

“I’d like to think about it.” I paused. “And I need to pray about it and talk to my parents and stuff.”

“I have a letter here.” She held up an official-looking envelope. “There’s a permission slip for your parents and some other things. You don’t have to make up your mind until fall.”

“Thanks.” I grinned at her. “You know, when I was walking to the office I was thinking about how I got into so much trouble during my freshman year. Do you remember?”

She laughed. “Yeah. You were something else. But I could tell, even then, that you had something pretty special going on.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re quite a girl, Chloe.”

“Thanks. But I have to give the credit to God. Without Him, I am a complete mess.”

She smiled. “I figured you’d say something like that. Well, keep up the good work and good luck with your band. My thirteen-year-old loves your CD, and she’s even taken up the guitar in hopes that she can grow up to be like you. In fact …” Mrs. King looked slightly embarrassed
now. “She’d love it if I brought home your autograph. Do you mind?”

I laughed. “Not at all.” And so I signed a piece of notepaper “To Becky, with love, Chloe Miller.”

“Thanks. I’ll be her hero tonight.”

I told my parents about Mrs. King’s idea as we were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. And for some reason I thought my mom was going to balk. Maybe it was a flashback to the old days or perhaps it’s because Laura’s mom has reacted to so many things in an overprotective way. But my mom totally surprised me by saying that she felt it was my decision and was completely comfortable with whatever I chose.

“I’m with your mom,” agreed Dad as he hung up the dish towel. “And I’m not even surprised that they’re offering this to you, Chloe. We’ve always known you were a smart girl.”

“Sometimes you were too smart for your own good,” Mom said with a sly smile. “But it looks like you’ve grown into it. By the way, honey, have I told you that I’m really proud of you?”

I had to laugh because that’s becoming one of her favorite lines of late. But then I’m not tired of hearing it either. In fact, coming from her, it means more than almost anything to me. I can’t believe how much she’s changed since she and Dad started going to church regularly. Anyway, I hugged her and told her I loved her, and we both got a little
teary eyed. I’m not even sure why we cried exactly. I guess it was over all the things we’ve been through in the past, all the times I thought she hated me or was embarrassed by me or just didn’t care. Now I know I was wrong. Thank God.

I reintroduced myself to an old friend today. I’m sure she thought that I’d completely forgotten
her. But I didn’t. Okay, here is what I remember about Kim Peterson. When I was in eighth grade and going through my little rebellious streak, and consequently losing my old friends left and right, I was on my way to orchestra one day (believe it or not, I used to play the violin—and not all that well) when Kim spoke to me.

“You know, you could be a much better musician if you took the violin more seriously,” she said as we reached the door.

“Huh?” I stopped and looked at her as if she were an alien.

“I know you probably think I’m a geek because I actually care about school and grades and orchestra and all that.”

“Aren’t you that brainy chick who has some big record for winning the mental math contest for like about twenty consecutive years?”

“Four, actually.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“But, really, Chloe, I’ve watched you play violin and you’re good, but you just don’t take it seriously. I’ll bet you never even practice.”

I nodded. “You got that right.”

“And I know that you’re having a hard time this year …”

Now this made me mad. I didn’t need little Miss Perfect telling me how to live my life right then. “It’s none of your business,” I snapped at her.

“Fine.” She held her head up high, and I could tell that I’d offended her, but I still didn’t care. “I just wanted to let you know that I think you could be a good musician if you worked harder.”

And believe it or not, those words of hers stuck with me. But instead of practicing my violin (and honestly I never thought I’d have a chance of bumping her out of first chair because I was certain that she practiced for at least six hours each day), I decided to take up the guitar. And thinking about what she’d said about music, I decided to take my guitar seriously, and I actually began practicing for several hours a day too. Of course, I never told her any of this back then. But in some ways, I’ve always felt that Kim Peterson had a little to do with my success in music.

Anyway, when I saw her heading in the direction of the music department, I called out to her and she stopped.

“Hey, Kim, do you remember me?”

She kind of rolled her eyes like she thought I was a half-wit. “Yes, Chloe, everyone in town knows who you are. The famous leader of the Christian rock band Redemption.”

“Yeah, whatever. So, how are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess. Are you actually enrolled in school now or just popping in to sign autographs?”

I had to laugh at her attitude. It was obvious that this chick wasn’t anything like some of the other kids who practically grovel and bow, acting as if I should rule the world just because I have a recording contract.

“I’m here until the end of the school year,” I told her. “Mostly so that Laura Mitchell can graduate with her class.”

“Lucky Laura.” Her voice sound exasperated as she pushed a black strand of silky hair from her eyes. Then she just stood there for a moment and studied me, with what seemed a very calculated interest, before she started walking toward the music department again. And although uninvited, I walked along with her. Finally, we were just outside the orchestra room, but I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.

“Looks like you’re still playing violin,” I said as I nodded down to her well-worn leather case.

“Yeah, unlike you, I haven’t had any great offers to start leading a rock band yet.”

I shrugged. “Hey, as I recall you were pretty good on your violin.”

She almost smiled now.

“In fact,” I said suddenly remembering something. “There’s a song I’ve been working on that I really think needs a violin backup. Do you have any interest in jamming with us this weekend?”

“Jamming?”

“You know, just playing for fun. To see how it sounds.”

She seemed to consider this. “Maybe.”

“Well, we practice for most of the day on Saturday. Give me a call if you’re interested.”

She nodded and started to go into the orchestra room.

“And Kim,” I called out.

She turned and looked at me with an expression that was a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

“I just wanted to apologize for that time, back in middle school, when I acted like a jerk when you were trying to encourage me about music.”

Now she gave me the blankest expression, as if she didn’t even remember the incident, and maybe she didn’t. Then she just shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.” She turned and went into orchestra.

Now, if I hadn’t known Kim (or at least observed her) for a number of years, I might’ve actually thought she was being a total snob just then. But I really think that she purposely keeps to herself sometimes, probably as a protective device. Especially with people she doesn’t know or trust that well. Like me. I think it’s partially because she’s Asian (Korean, as I recall) and because she’s adopted. But I could be imagining all this. It may be that her greatest
challenge in life is the fact that she’s just really, really smart. So much so that she has been teased mercilessly over the years.

In fact, she and I used to be in the TAG program together (Talented and Gifted). But it wasn’t long before I realized that being in TAG was like wearing a great big target that said “pick on me, I’m smart,” and so, to much parental displeasure, I dropped out. Poor Kim didn’t figure this out, or maybe her parents wouldn’t let her quit, but she remained in TAG and consequently suffered the abuse that comes with membership.

Now, as senseless as this may sound, I feel somewhat responsible for her abuse all these years later. Don’t even ask me why. It’s not that I ever did much more than shut her down that day she tried to encourage me. But I do regret it. And maybe it’s a God-thing, but I do hope that she’ll join us to jam on Saturday. And I wasn’t making that up. I really have been wondering what some string backup would sound like with this new song I’m working on.

No, I’m not going to invite her to join Redemption as the fourth member of our band. I think we sound just right as we are. But I may invite her to be my friend. If she’s interested, that is.

Much to our surprise, Kim Peterson did show up to jam with us today. And after a while, she really loosened up and showed us her stuff.

“Man,” said Allie. “You are really good, Kim.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“It makes me wish that more of our songs would work with a violin,” I said.

Kim laughed now. “Nah, you guys have a great sound already. Sometimes when I listen to your CD, I almost forget that it’s Christian music.”

I frowned. “Really?”

“Hey, I mean it as a compliment. The truth is you won’t catch me listening to much Christian music. Mostly it’s too preachy and weird. It kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“If you don’t listen to it, how do you know that?” asked Laura.

“My mom listens to it all the time,” said Kim as she put her violin back in its case. “Ugh. I get so sick of it.”

I nodded. “Well, maybe she listens to the wrong kind of music. Maybe if she heard Iron Cross or—”

“No way,” said Kim. “My mom is definitely not into any kind of rock whatsoever, Christian or otherwise.”

“So, do you plan to do anything with your music?” I asked as she closed up her case.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Mr. Covell, in orchestra, says I could probably get a music scholarship. But my parents don’t think a profession in music offers much financial stability for my future.”

Laura laughed. “Tell us about it. You should’ve heard my mom before we signed our contract with Omega.”

“My mom was just as bad,” I offered. “But they’ve started to sing a different tune.”

“Yeah,” said Kim. “But what happened to you guys is kind of like winning the lottery. Most musicians spend their whole lives without even a tiny bit of the success that you’re having.” Then she smiled. “And now I can say I jammed with you.”

“And if we ever need a good violinist,” I told her as we walked her to the front door, “we’ll know just who to call.”

“I won’t be holding my breath.” But she smiled again and I felt that perhaps we’d made it through some kind of barrier with her.

I closed the door, then turned to Allie and Laura. “For some reason God has really put Kim
on my heart. I plan to be praying for her a lot.”

“She’s a cool girl,” said Allie. “I guess I just never took the time to get to know her before.”

“She hasn’t been the easiest person to get to know,” said Laura. “I think she’s got a couple of close friends, but she pretty much holds everyone off at arm’s length.”

“Probably because she’s afraid,” I said.

“Of what?”

“You know, of getting hurt. I even hurt her myself one time, back in middle school.”

“Are you saying that she could be more easily hurt because she’s Asian?” asked Laura, her dark eyes challenging me.

“Well, what do you think? I mean, I know you’re a minority at school, but at least there are quite a few African-American kids, and you’ve never had a problem making friends.”

“Yeah,” added Allie. “In fact, you weren’t exactly friendly to us when we first tried to become friends with you.”

“That’s right,” I reminded her. “And there aren’t that many Asian kids at our school. Kim’s in a lot more of a minority than you, Laura.”

She nodded. “Okay, you might be right, at least about our school, but I’m not so sure about the bigger picture. I think Asians, in general, face less discrimination than African-Americans.
Maybe even less than Hispanics.”