Allegra by Shelley Hrdlitschka

Author:Shelley Hrdlitschka
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUV031040, JUV026000, JUV031020
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2013-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

I stay in the sound room after music theory on Thursday, replaying my composition over and over. It’s just a mindless kind of activity. I’m not inspired to change anything or add to it; I just keep clicking Playback. It’s lunch hour, and I have nowhere else to go.

I hear the door open behind me, and I swing around. The four of them are standing there: Talia, Molly, Sophie and Spencer.

“I think you owe us an explanation,” Talia says. She folds her arms across her chest.

“I told you, I wasn’t feeling well. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Right, but you haven’t said why you didn’t say something before you left.”

Sweat breaks out on my palms. I feel like a cornered animal, trapped in the sound room.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

I can only shrug and stare at my feet. A wave of dizziness passes over me.

“Is something the matter here?” I look up and see Mr. Rocchelli standing behind our small group. He’s craning his neck to see into the room. Our eyes meet briefly before I look down again.

There’s a long pause, and finally Spencer says, “No, nothing’s wrong. We were just having a chat with Allegra.”

“Let’s go,” Talia says.

I hear them move away, and then the door to the portable opens and closes.

My heart is beating fast now, and dizziness overwhelms me. I bend over and put my head between my knees.

“Allegra, what is it?” Mr. Rocchelli has put his hand on my back. I can only shake my head. He leaves, but moments later he’s back in the room. “Here’s some water.”

I reach out and take the glass from him. My throat is dry, and I gulp the water down.

“Do you want more?” he asks.

Finally I can sit up again, but I don’t look at him. I’m too embarrassed. “No, thanks.”

He eases himself into the other chair in the cramped little room and leans toward me. “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head again. I’m struggling to fight back tears. It’s all so humiliating.

We sit in silence for another moment. Then his chair creaks as he gets to his feet. “I’m a good listener,” he says. “Anytime you want to talk.”

I nod, still staring at my feet.

He stands there. His foot taps the floor a couple of times and then he leaves the sound room. A realization washes over me: it has taken me less than a month to totally screw up my fresh start at a new school. Combine that with the situation at home and my anxiety flaring up, and, well, things couldn’t get much worse.

I get up, shut the door and then click Playback on the computer. For the remainder of the lunch hour, I listen to my composition over and over again.

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