Copyright © 2018-2024 DouglasDD. All Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER 5
ROOMATES
One look at his new roommate confirmed William’s worst fears. The kid was a little faggot who probably had fat fingers and didn’t know “Chopsticks” from “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”.
William glared down at the little kid, not knowing what to say. All his frustrations about what his roommate would be like for the next four weeks shot to the surface and he finally spit out a loud, “FUCK!”
Austin tapped his key and opened the door to his room. Standing in front of him was a teenager who obviously was not happy. Austin looked up at him and winced when the teen shouted out, “FUCK!” Austin had no doubt that he was what the teen was unhappy with.
Austin was not surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof. After all, he was just a little kid who played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” going up against a big-time student with a big-time dad. Of course he could play the piece, and the fact that the great Mozart wrote it added some luster to it.
“Um, hi, I’m Austin, your roommate,” Austin said meekly. He knew he sounded lame, but even saying something dumb seemed better than starting to cry, which he was close to doing.
“Fuck, you really are a little dweeb, you know that?” William didn’t wait for an answer and raged on. “I see where you put your suitcases, but just to make it official, that side is yours, and the side with the window is mine. If you are embarrassed about changing clothes in front of somebody, we can get a screen to divide the room, but I’ll be pissed if you want one because they are a pain in the ass to deal with.”
“I’m good,” Austin squeaked.
Christian Morton heard William’s raised voice as he approached the room. He had hoped William would wait at least an hour or two before being an asshole, but it looked like he was digging right in. He entered the room to see William glowering at Austin who looked like he was trying his best not to break out into tears.
“Damn, William, couldn’t you have been nice to the kid for at least five minutes?” Christian growled.
William turned his glare onto Christian. “Look at him, Chrissy. Do you want a little dweeb like him for a roommate?” He looked back to Austin. “Are you going to cry onto the keyboard at your first solo next week when you can’t get the notes right to ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
“Go out into the hall, Austin,” Christian ordered. Austin quickly obeyed. Christian then grabbed William by his collar and looked down on him in the same way William had looked down at Austin. “I swear to God, William Delacroix, that I will do everything I can to get your ass kicked out of this camp if you don’t start treating Austin right. Quit acting like the asshole you are and start treating your roommate with respect.”
William looked up at Christian and didn’t back down. “I’ll treat the little baby with respect when he earns it, which ain’t gonna happen because he’s a fucking scholarship dweeb. And I’m gonna remind you just once that my grandfather is on the Board of Directors for this dump and if you don’t let go of me you’ll be the one whose ass gets kicked out of here.”
Christian released William but didn’t release his stare. “I don’t know what your problem is, Billy, but I’m gonna do everything I can to help Austin. I happen to like the little shit. He’s a nice kid even if he can’t play the piano for shit.” Christian may not like how William had been treating Austin, but he’d heard quite a few rumors (all started by William) about Austin’s lack of talent at the keyboard. “I like him, that’s all I need to know.”
Before walking out of the door, Christian stopped and had his last word. “Oh, and Billy, don’t call me Chrissy.
Christian put his arm around the shaking little redhead. “Let’s go to the registrar and see about getting you moved,” he said gently. He noticed Austin’s t-shirt for the first time. Part of a piano keyboard spread across Austin’s chest. Underneath it was written, “The best players are on the bench.”
“I like the shirt, Austin. Have you been wearing it all day?”
“Yeah, but I had my hoodie over it until it started getting warm out. I threw it on my bed while William was yelling at me.” When Austin broke out into a little smile and asked, “Or should I call him Billy?” Christian relaxed a notch. Maybe there was more to the little shrimp than he thought.
The trip to the registrar’s office ended up being futile. Mrs. Loomis, the school registrar, told Christian and Austin she had no intention of allowing Austin to move to another room.
“First of all, the camp is full up,” she said,” so two boys would have to be willing to make changes. Second, the camp doesn’t officially start until tomorrow afternoon. I’ve noticed through the years that most roommates who get off to rough starts learn to at least tolerate each other, but more often end up becoming friends. And third, William Delacroix is one of our star pupils, academically and musically. You were placed with him intentionally because we feel he has a lot to teach you. His musical background, as I’m sure you know, is unmatched by anybody at this school. At fourteen he plays the piano like he is ten years older.”
Mrs. Loomis was a kindly lady who was liked and respected by both the students and staff of the school, but she could be a bit naïve and more than once had hidden her head in the sand when trouble was brewing. What amazed many on the school’s staff was that quite often when she stayed the course in a troublesome situation, things ended up turning out for the best. But, when things didn’t work, cleaning up the mess was why administrators got paid the big bucks.
“Sorry, I wasn’t able to help you Austin. But I think things will work out fine. William is liked and respected by the staff.”
“But not by the students,” Christian mumbled.
“What was that you said Christian?”
“Nothing, Mrs. Loomis. I was just thinking out loud.”
As the boys turned to walk away, Mrs. Loomis stopped them. “I love the t-shirt, Austin. I think it fits very well with what the camp is about and with what you are going to learn here, both from your teachers and from your roommate.”
Christian led a disappointed Austin to the Delacroix Music Building. “Sorry that didn’t work, Austin, but I want you to keep me up to date. There’s no way they can keep you with that pecker head for four weeks if he keeps acting like that. We just need to keep track of everything.”
They walked into the music building. It was a solid, red brick structure and the newest building on campus, built from the donations and fund raising of Eugene Delacroix and the Delacroix Foundation.
Austin’s eyes lit up when he saw the shiny ebony Steinway on the stage of the auditorium. He could feel his fingers start to itch as his thoughts focused on sitting on the bench and pushing down at least one key. “Can people touch it?” he asked Christian who couldn’t fail to notice the excitement on Austin’s face.
“Touch the piano, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“You can if it is unlocked, which is rarely. Otherwise, your fingers follow you upstairs to the practice rooms.” Christian could see the light leave Austin. Shit, the kid has had enough problems and disappointment for his first day, or for any day, he thought. I hope the thing is unlocked. He pulled up on the piano lid and it proved to be unlocked.
“It looks like you’re in luck. Okay, kiddo, play something really short, like a few notes of ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ or something. Just don’t pound on the keys, okay?”
“Will I get in trouble?”
“The rules say if the lid is unlocked and there are no signs then it is okay to play the piano if you are an upperclassman or are being supervised by one. Well, as far as the camp is concerned, as a student guide and sponsor I think I qualify, and if I don’t I’ll plead ignorance. I might be helping wash dishes in the cafeteria for a few days, but it will be worth it. You’ve had a tough enough day, so go ahead and touch it.”
“You’re really, really nice Christian. I’m glad you’re my sponsor.”
“Well, I can think of somebody else who might not be quite as happy, since I’m supposed to be meeting with him. But, this is his second year here, so he’ll live if I’m a little late.”
“Can I warm up some?”
“Sorry kiddo. Just play a few notes of whatever it is you know.”
Austin thought about being snarky and playing what Christian thought he was going to hear. But he heard the voice of his big brother in his head. “Don’t hold back, kiddo. Show ‘em what you got right from the start.” He decided to play one of the works he had learned for his pre-camp assignment.
He sat on the bench and adjusted it some to raise himself a little higher. He wished he could have brought the bench he used at Josh’s house for his lessons and for his recitals. He was used to warming up before playing, especially when he was sitting at a strange piano.
When Austin stretched his arms and wriggled his fingers, Christian noticed his hands for the first time. What he saw were not the short stubby fingers William had accused him of having. Instead, he saw two beautiful hands with fingers that had been created for playing the piano.
The poor kid has no idea what kind of treasure he has, Christian thought. But whoever it was that got him that scholarship had a clue. I wonder what our teachers can do for him in four weeks?
As soon as Austin’s fingers touched the keyboard and depressed the keys, Christian realized that once again he had underestimated Austin Richards. He wasn’t sure what he was listening to, but he was sure it wasn’t “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” What he heard was an obviously well-trained pianist playing a great piece of music by one of the great composers.
Christian knew that Austin was more than just a nice kid who was totally out of place at the Bainbridge Summer Music Camp. Austin was someone who was exactly where he belonged and was soon to surprise everybody at the camp.
Austin stopped after a few bars. Christian had to hear more and almost begged Austin to keep playing.
“What are you playing?”
“Third movement, Mozart Sonata Ten,” Austin said as he started from the exact point where he’d left off.
“That is beautiful. Not just the music, but your playing. I am, like, totally amazed. Please, play it to the end.”
While William could be an asshole in that he put himself ahead of others, he wasn’t a total asshole. A total asshole wouldn’t have any guilt feelings about putting himself over others since doing so was his right. But William now found himself feeling bad about how he treated others at times, even when he was sure the other person deserved being treated like shit.
William was sure that his new roomie really deserved it. In the sense that he was most likely an untalented scholarship kid, William felt his roommate deserved his wrath.
On the other hand, he thought the little redhead was a cute little kid who would look even better if he had a decent haircut and kept his mop combed. A little kid who was probably a nice person didn’t deserve getting the treatment he’d just received. William thought it might have been better if he’d felt sorry for him, since the kid was obviously going to be totally lost and very unhappy at camp.
Maybe I should be ready to help him after everybody laughs at him when he plays his sad little homework pieces on Sunday afternoon, William thought. Maybe it would place him in a good light as a friendly, caring person.
On the other hand, William thought that Christian Morton deserved everything he could give him. And he was upset over Christian having the gall to grab his shirt. William was certain there was no way he would ever forgive that pecker head for treating him like he was a nobody.
William left the room. He was going to see Mrs. Loomis and hope she had good news, that good news being that she approved of Austin making a room change.
“Austin Richards will not be moving,” Mrs. Loomis told William the moment he entered her office. She had been around for a long time and often knew what a student was thinking before the student did.
“Why not? He needs a roommate closer to his age and one who plays the piano as bad as he does.” William tried hard not to whine as he addressed the registrar. He wanted to sound like he was seriously concerned with the welfare of Austin Richards. “He’s going to need a lot of help after we play our study pieces tomorrow.”
“Tell me, William, just how do you know he’s not really good? Mr. Shepherd does not award scholarships to just anyone. They have to show a great deal of aptitude to qualify for this camp, let alone to receive a scholarship.”
“Everybody makes mistakes,” William said haughtily.
“And everyone can be a friend and help someone who needs help instead of shoving him away. Now, I have a great deal of work to do, so why don’t you look for that roommate of yours and try to be a friend and a good roommate.” Although she had hinted otherwise to Christian and Austin earlier, she didn’t care much for William Delacroix, whom she considered a cold-hearted snob (aka, an asshole).
William knew that Christian was going to take Austin to the music building, so he decided to go there to learn if his roommate was as bad as he suspected. On the way he ran into Mr. Boardman, one of his two piano teachers.
“On your way to practice William?” Mr. Boardman asked.
“Yes, but first I want to see if my roomie is there. I guess he was going to show his sponsor what he could do and I kinda would like to know.”
“Who is your roomie?”
“Austin Richards,” William told the teacher, figuring he would have no idea who a little dweeb like Austin was.
“Oh, nice. I hear the young boy is quite talented.” William tried hard not to barf. “Anyway, I think I forgot to lock the Steinway after I did some playing of my own this morning, so I’m going to the auditorium to check.”
They entered the foyer and could hear music coming through an open door to the auditorium. “Hmm, someone is doing a beautiful job of playing Mozart,” Boardman commented.
William nodded. Whoever was playing was quite good, even if he just hit a wrong note. Hitting a wrong key didn’t seem to phase him as he didn’t miss a beat.
Mr. Boardman walked into the auditorium and took a seat in the back row. He recognized Christian but had no idea who the little redhead playing the Mozart was. He looked very much like the description he’d been given of William’s roommate, Austin Richards.
Whoever the pianist was, Boardman ranked his playing as right up there with William’s. He was disappointed when the sonata came to an end. Much to the annoyance of William, Boardman applauded. He then stood up and walked down the aisle to the stage.
“Very nice, young man. I am Mr. Boardman and I teach piano here. You must be a new camper since I don’t recognize you,” he told Austin.
Austin stood up as an act of respect. “I’m Austin Richards. I hope it’s okay I was playing. Christian said I could because he was my sponsor.”
“You’re just fine. The piano was unlocked and your sponsor was with you. I must say that you played that Mozart wonderfully.”
“I missed a couple of notes,” Austin apologized.
“There isn’t a one of us who hasn’t. But what amazed me was your touch and how you put your feelings into your playing. How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
“Very mature playing for a twelve-year-old.”
William now made his way down to the first row. He truly wanted to kick Austin’s ass for making him look bad. The fucking little dweeb not only knew how to play, he was actually impressing Mr. Boardman, which was not easy to do. He hated Austin even more now.
“Are you playing that tomorrow?” Boardman asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please, play me one of your other pieces.”
Christian grinned at Austin. As a string player, Christian didn’t know Mr. Boardman very well, but he knew of his reputation as a teacher who set high expectations and Austin seemed to be on the instructor’s good side. Austin decided to play the Chopin waltz, since he had taught himself that work to impress his roommate.
“I learned this to show my roommate I can play the piano,” Austin announced without looking at his three-member audience. It was almost as if he was talking to himself. “It’s Chopin’s Waltz Number 14.” Boardman knew the work, of course, and was surprised that the little boy sitting up on the stage in front of him had decided to tackle what could be a difficult piece to play.
His audience of three consisted of his camp sponsor, Christian, whom he had already grown to like a lot, one of the school’s piano teachers who seemed to like him, and his roommate, William, who probably hated him. Austin remembered the words on one of his other piano t-shirts: “When you play, never mind who listens to you.”
Austin’s fingers hit the keyboard and the notes rolled out of him. He played through the speedy piece in complete control, hitting only two wrong notes. Those wrong notes didn’t bother John Boardman because he could hear the boy’s passion coming out of his magic fingers as they hurried along the keyboard. He was pleased to see that the wrong notes didn’t affect Austin’s playing.
The way Boardman saw it, William Delacroix was technically a better pianist than Austin, but all too often his playing was a dazzling technical display with little thought or emotion behind it. In that sense he was very much like his father. Austin Richards was much different stylistically. He knew what he was playing and played it brilliantly, but he was also willing to put his heart into every note. In that sense he was very much like William’s grandfather.
Boardman then corrected an earlier thought he’d had. His instincts and experience told him that it was not a a little boy sitting at the keyboard, it was a young man.
When Austin finished, Christian stood and applauded while William sat and sulked. Boardman asked Austin what the third piece he picked was.
“Debussy, ‘The Golliwog’s Cakewalk’,” he replied.
William jumped up and shouted, “That’s one of mine and I learned it to show what it was like when a composer wrote something great for kids instead of playing the stupid stuff like I knew Austin was going to play.”
Mr. Boardman looked at William with a sly smile. “And now you’re going to play it for what reason?”
William didn’t answer. Instead he walked up the steps to the stage and sat next to Austin on the bench. Once again, he showed the difference between himself and a real asshole, he apologized. “I’m sorry I was mean to you when we met, Austin,” William said sincerely. “I don’t apologize much because I’m usually right, but this time I was wrong. You aren’t a dweeb who can’t play the piano, that’s for sure.”
“I accept your apology. My mom says it’s better to be nice than right. That way you don’t have to apologize as much.”
“I wonder if I can be right and nice at the same time.” He surprised Austin by running his fingers across the keyboard on Austin’s shirt, sending a little shiver through him. “I like your shirt by the way. The best players are on the bench and you deserve to sit here.” William looked over to Mr. Boardman. “The reason I’m going to play ‘The Golliwog’s Cakewalk’ is to show my roommate that I belong on the bench, too.”
Austin rose from the bench and joined Christian and Mr. Boardman in the front row. As soon as he was seated William played a flawless rendition of the Debussy work. Boardman thought he detected a bit of extra flair under William’s normally cold playing. Austin, who was less attuned to the finer points than the teacher, was impressed by his roommate’s playing.
“Are you going to play it now?” William asked.
Austin returned to the piano and traded places with William. Instead of going down to the front row, William sat on the wooden floor of the stage to the left of the piano.
“I’ll save mine for tomorrow’s homework recital.” He flashed the impish smile that William and Christian had both noted before. “I’m going to play this for William, just to show him that sometimes you can be right and nice at the same time.”
William dropped down to the floor laughing when he heard Austin start to play. “Oh, fuck, roomie, you’re amazing,” was all he could get out before his laughter consumed him.
The piece Austin was playing was his own improvisation of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” that he had worked out at home with his brother’s help.
Next: Clashes