The Girl with the Piano Hands

April 6, 2011
I walked into the quiet class room, with my book bag on my one shoulder, my hand holding the strap. “Hello?” I asked. After a few moments of silence I sat down, they couldn’t yell at me for attending detention, could they?
I sat down in an abandoned class room seat and waited, I started tapped some notes of a song with my fingers, surely a teacher would show up soon and tell me what to do, because I didn’t have a clue.
This was my first time in detention; this whole thing was completely new to me. It’s not that I never did anything detention worthy, it’s just that I never got caught, but I wasn’t exactly a rebel.
In fact, I wasn’t even sure what I was, I had often pondered that concept, but I just wasn’t sure. I tried to think of myself as the girl that is oddly cool, even though she doesn’t do anything to be that way, I highly doubted that.
Almost fifteen minutes passed and the teacher still didn’t show up. I pulled out the class reading novel and started reading ahead; I didn’t exactly have much else to do. Don’t get me wrong, I really did enjoy reading, but I liked reading on my own terms and conditions, none of this class reading list nonsense. I continued to mime notes with my other hand.
“Hello?” someone asked.
I quickly looked up. A head was poking in through the doorway. The new guy, my face flushed, he was kind of attractive.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled a general smile, “Um, so is this detention?”
I put my book down flat to hold my page, and shrugged, “Yeah, I am pretty sure, this is where the teacher told me to meet her, too bad she failed to show up.”
As he listened he leaned against the doorway in a casual position, he chuckled. “Well, if that is the case I guess I will join you.” He sat in a desk to my left, I felt obliged to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to say, I could feel my cheeks blooming into roses.
I mimed notes on my desk, he noticed, “You play?”
I gave him a perplexed look, “what do you mean?”
He smiled and motioned to my active fingers, he was always smiling, “Piano, do you play piano?”
I stopped moving my hands, “Oh, well, um, not officially, that is, I’ve never had lessons, but I know a few songs, I guess.”
His smiled got wider, “isn’t that the best way?” he studied me and broadened his grin, “My first day and I’ve already met a girl with magical, musical, piano hands. What is your name again?”
“Anne Marie.” I mumbled quietly, I felt like my mouth was full of mud. I looked at his features, dark eyes, nice thick, dark brown hair, slightly tan skin; they were a contrast to my pale skin, green eyes, fine, wavy blonde hair, and now my rosy cheeks.
“Anne Marie…” he repeated “That’s an old name, a name lost in time, a beautiful one none the less. Not too many people are named that any more.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, suspended in time. “My names Gabe.”
“As in Gabriel?” I asked.
His smile got a little smaller and he looked down at the floor, “yeah…” he admitted.
“That is an old name too.”
He shrugged.
“That is the name of a Guardian Angel; it goes back to the bible.”
He looked at me like he didn’t get what I was trying to get at.
“I think that’s a really cool name.”
He laughed, “Do you know how many times I have been called, Gabrielle?”
I looked down for a moment, “Well, those people aren’t’ sophisticated enough to realize what a cool name it is.”
He laughed, and looked into my eyes, “There’s something magical, and classic about you, some sort of quirky charm.” He pondered something, “Anne Marie, the girl with the piano hands,” he paused, “I like the sound of that.”
I blushed even more. He smiled even more, if either of those things were humanly possible.
I could feel my heart beating, I smoothed my white sundress out of nervousness, no guy had ever paid so much attention to me before.
“So…” he asked, “How do you feel about art?”
That’s when I knew he was perfect.

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